How in the world do you expect to be on top of things when you're obviously at the bottom of the dogpile? You quit your job. You broke up with a fantastic person who made you happy. You told your parents that you've decided to be left handed and change your name to that of an obscure Star Trek planet. You're eating one meal a day and you drool at the sight of squirrels running across your lawn. You're not a world conquerer, you're a lap dog, waiting for your master to come home.

Who's going to take you seriously with a resumé that starts off with, "Lastly, I'd like to thank all the bullies in school who promised me a knuckle sandwich. I ate well and I've taken your advice to heart. The important stuff about my work history is on a paper I lost three years ago."

Clearly you've flipped your lid. What's worse is that you're proud of it, like it's going to earn you credibility. No one wants to be dominated, on a global scale, by someone who can tie their shoelaces in the shape of a clown. And don't try to tell me it's all part of your "master plan." I saw you shaking those pencil shavings in that tin cup a block away from your house, trying to convince your neighbors that you were your evil blind twin in desperate need for donations to improve your eyesight. Yeah, you got two hundred dollars for you trouble, but that's not the point.

The point is that you've got to come up with a better plan. For every dollar you spend to survive, you're missing out on the bigger picture. The world isn't in perilous danger from someone who thinks Ernest Borgnine is the reincarnation of Christ. Those strange looks you get, when you shout that from your rooftop, aren't flattering. People are beginning to wonder if putting you away at the funny farm might help them sleep better.

At the rate you're going, you will be the King of Fools and Foibles, your court policed by men taunting you with white jackets that have really long sleeves. Drawing stick figures on an Etch-A-Sketch does not make you a graphic designer. And writing your name on the beach doesn't make you a writer.

If world domination is your goal, consider that you are a fool for even trying. There are more of us than there are of you.

One man cannot rule the world, but he can sure make a mess of it.

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