I am probably the coolest dude of all time. It’s like The Most Interesting Man in the World had sex with Chuck Norris and created me, which shouldn’t even be possible. The actual laws of physics are warped by the sheer magnitude of the awesomeness we’re talking about here. Virtually everything I do is cool as shit: I’m constantly setting records in categories that don’t even exist yet, and I’ve had to invent a new form of math to measure the number of times I’ve been laid. There too many awesome things about me to relay during your lifetime, so I’ll go over just a few of them right now.

My Body is Vastly Superior to Yours

Women name their breasts after me, and strangers go out of their way to give me their parking spots at the mall on Black Friday. I am gorgeous. I make Brad Pitt look like Steve Buscemi. I once made a woman climax just by winking at her. And I never fart. Ever. But if I did they would smell like fresh apple pie. Everything about me is bad ass. My mustache has caused riots. And under my mustache is another mustache. And under that mustache are the launch codes for America’s nukes. I also have a third mustache in an undisclosed location in case of emergency.

I secrete gold out of my pores. The pheromones I release affect people for miles. They’re like chemical weapons, they cause car accidents and destroy marriages. I can see infrared light. When I take a shit angels form a choir and sound trumpets to the heaven. And I just sold my sperm on eBay for $900,000.

My Skills are Crazy Good

I can do so many things so much better than everyone else that it’s been speculated that I am in fact a genie. But there’s nothing magical about all of this. It’s science. I actually have four PhD’s; the proper way to refer to me is Supreme Doctor Marmaro. I can perform brain surgery in the dark, and I found the Higgs boson particle with an accelerator I constructed in my backyard out of tin foil and duct tape.

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I also planted the evidence for dinosaurs. That’s right, they never existed. I put fake bones in the geological strata and you all fell for it.

I can recite the Gettysburg Address in Morse code from memory, and when I play the guitar, everyone within a five mile radius instantly orgasms. I can communicate with whales. I make my own clothes, and they never wrinkle. My brain is quite possibly so advanced that it creates cold fusion. Several large meteors have been deflected from a collision course with the Earth solely by my profound thoughts emanating out in to space.

I can smell fear, I can play the cello with my feet, I bowl with my elbows, and I’ve figured out how to summon a herd of deer with my TiVo remote. I know, I know, it’s unbelievable. Yes, you can suck my dick, just get in line. And look, eventually everything on this planet will want to fuck me—women, men, children, cats, buffalo, squid, trees, every living thing. You might want to make your reservation now.

Everyone Loves Me

It might seem like I’m just too cool for school, but beneath my smooth, collected exterior is a self-conscious human being like everyone else. And beneath that is a genius playboy prodigy. Naturally, people are attracted to such a phenomenally outstanding person. Women name their breasts after me, and strangers go out of their way to give me their parking spots at the mall on Black Friday. Cops pull me over for drunk driving the wrong way down the freeway and ask for my autograph before letting me go with a warning.

Everywhere I go, parades break out and people start taking their clothes off. I would have won the presidential election because so many people wrote me in on the ballot, but since I’m from the future and I haven’t technically been born on American soil yet, I’m not eligible. When I walk in to Walmart the manager follows me around giving me back rubs and asking me if I want free stuff. Dr. Phil asks me for advice. Birds don’t even shit on my car, which never runs out of gas. My charisma alone would make it fairly easy to take over the world. But I don’t, because I’m just that good of a person.

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Seriously, I’m an All-Around Amazing Person

I once saved the pope from drowning. When I wake up in the morning my hair already looks fantastic. My car is made entirely out of recycled bath mats and soda cans. You know how you’ll sometimes lose a sock in the dryer? I took it. To give to an orphan or something. This greatness comes from some unknown source; the power is just using my body as a vessel.

I once laughed so hard all of my neighbors peed themselves, and I can take a woman’s clothes off with my mind. Clearly there are some quantum forces at work here. When I drop toast, it lands buttered side up. I’ve won the lottery three times, and I’ve never bought a ticket. I can make the change disappear out of people’s pockets and replace it with marshmallows from two states away. I once wrestled a fully-grown grizzly bear for 23 minutes. And won. Baby universes are formed at the heart of supermassive black holes, and when I sneeze. I’m utterly astounding.

I’m punk rock as fuck is what I’m trying to say. I’m the best. And we’ve merely scratched the surface of my badassitude. Seriously, this was just the tip of the iceberg; we haven’t yet developed the words to describe how truly awesome I am. But it’s a start.

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