Menso, Redux

A while back, as you may (or may not) recall, I went on a bit of a tirade about geniuses, and how incredibly annoying they are. Particularly when they insist on telling you about their geniusness.

I mentioned this to a friend of mine, and, between sips of his beer, he casually wondered that since I am basically an arrogant and annoying swine, does that therefore make me a genius.

An Arrogant Genius

The question, I must admit, took be a bit by surprise, and after hitting him in the back of the head with an empty, I thought it deserved a bit of exploration.

Could the Monkey be a genius?

One Smart Monkey

Yeah, I hear you laughing. And I admit, it is kind of funny. But still, it does bear investigation.

After tossing my buddy a small towel to help staunch the flow of blood from his new wound, we ambled over to the computer to try and answer the question by taking one of the many online IQ tests currently available.

Now, a quick disclaimer is in order. I don’t put a huge amount of stock in these tests. Aside from being only somewhat accurate in their assessment of education, they do tend to be both culturally and socio-economically biased. After all, there is nothing in any of them that measures intuitive intelligence, or practical knowledge, or the ability to apply theory to reality.

Okay, enough of that. You want the meat. It’s coming, Pilot, it’s coming. Just hang tight.

The test itself was little more than standardized boilerplate. You know, the typical SAT nonsense such as deciding whether ebullient compares closer to orgiastic or sullen if dyspeptic compares to lacrimose, or the ever present wondering about patterns and which would fit next.

I sat down and answered each question, rewarding myself after each one with some beer, as if I were some chicken getting a pellet for pecking at the correct button after a little buzzer sounded. There were 50 questions in all, so I had my friend wobble over to the fridge twice to ensure I had sufficient reward. All work and no play can make the Monkey quite irritable.

Mmmm ... Pellet!

By the time the test was near the end, however, I was getting a little distracted. Suffering from a subdural hematoma, my friend was beginning to babble incoherently about sunshine and wombats, making it difficult for me to concentrate. It was obvious I would need to use a series of finger jabs and pivot kicks to make sure he didn’t pass out before his brain swelling subsided, and I didn't have a lot of time. This was my friend, after all, and as much fun as it would be to see him in a coma, I felt sorry for the bastard.

Swollen Brain

Fortunately, I ran through the last few questions, about how many houses 30 people could paint in a month and whether kangaroos belonged in a circle jerk with a collection of ruminants.

The result (admit it, that’s what you were all waiting for) is that the Monkey has an IQ of 137. According to the site, that puts me in the “superior intelligence” cohort, but not a genius.

The Monkey Is Not A Genius

So, now you have concrete proof that those tests are worthless. In real life I am not a genius, nor even of “superior” intelligence. Hell, I'm lucky that I remember how to tie my shoes. My arrogance and annoying prickness is not because of any elevated smarts: I am an arrogant and annoying prick because I am an arrogant and annoying prick. Any similarity to uber-nerds, hyper-geeks, eggheads, poindexters, and other assorted brainiacs is purely coincidental.

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