Self-Depreciating Satire

Why YOU Should Be Thankful For ME

I won’t hide bubble wrap under the carpet again

During Thanksgiving, most parents, kids, siblings, and extended family who aren’t wanted by the FBI take a moment to display humility and remember the positive impact that others had in their lives.

I’m not most people. Instead, here are the reasons YOU should be thankful for ME.

Be thankful

I didn’t mug you when you walked home from Waffle House late at night and were still tipsy. I could have, but I didn’t.

With my middle-aged dad bod, I will never break your Cross Fit record or beat you in a charity 5k.

When you tell a funny anecdote at a cocktail party, I will try to one-up your story in an irritating and obvious way. After the party, you and your partner can agree that Mark was the worst human being ever to open his mouth.

Mark will also refer to himself in the third person like a big weirdo, further allowing you to cement your superiority.

I will never steal your boyfriend, girlfriend, wife, husband, significant other, or pickleball partner. I have less game than Lebron James in an underwater coal mine on Uranus.

I won’t try to convince your happily married but sheltered co-worker in Accounts Receivable that PowerPoint rebranded as Tinder. Or that he should immediately download it on his work computer. ¹

I will never fire you. I’m self-employed, and nepotism is the only reason I got that job.

Remember when your fly was down for the entire PTO meeting at your kid’s elementary school? I could have told hundreds of people about that embarrassing moment. I only mentioned it to the four frienemies that already despise you.

I will never cancel your toddler.

I will never mail you a crappy birthday gift. I won’t send you any gifts, cards, or flowers to demonstrate you are a year older. Without me acknowledging your birthday, you get to stay 29 forever.

I will never use the Power Gauntlet of Destiny — or whatever Thanos calls it — to eliminate half of the human beings in the Marvel Universe. I will tell you how 34 of the 35 Marvel movies are flaming piles of garbage, so you and your friends have someone to complain about. ²

I will never embarrass you by wearing the same designer outfit as you to a movie premiere. My blindingly pale legs will be rocking cargo shorts from the back of my closet. Release the hounds!

Not convinced?

I won’t make you jealous with my Guy Fiere-like cooking skills. The only flavor-town I’m a mayor of is drive-thru Little Ceasars pizza.

I won’t hide bubble wrap under the carpet in the lunch room so that you scream like an out-of-tune piccolo while dropping your tuna salad. Again.

I won’t make you feel inadequate with exaggerated stories of my sexual prowess. I have none. It should be pretty clear by now why.

[note to self: replace with the original joke about sexual prowess after my wife finishes proofreading.]

My generosity

I’ll leave you a good tip if you are working in a restaurant. Why? Because I’m two years away from being the richest man on earth.

When I am filthy, skanky rich, I’ll make sure my billionaire playboy antics are harmless fun instead of a particular owner of Twitter.

When I lose all my money in a make-up-for-goats Ponzi scheme, you can confidentially declare you are more intelligent than a former billionaire.

You will never have to worry that my novel will keep your book from the New York Times best-seller list. My lyrical powers stop at fart jokes and “Meh” listicles.

I will never beat you in golf, score on you in basketball, or stay right-side-up in hockey. If you put me on the other flag football team, your own can be confident of intramural victory.

I will never take the last of your dental floss.

I will never make you question your life choices because of my own life choices.

These are just a few reasons why my adult ineptitude benefits you directly.

When you reflect on everything you are thankful for this year, remember all the things that I could never do to make your life worse.

You’re welcome.

Footnotes

¹ Again. When I played this prank the first time, Sheldon responded, “Ok, Mark, will do.” Another co-worker came sprinting out of her office to stop him.

² I loved the original Thor, minus 20 minutes of the giant useless cyclops robot.

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Thank you Hollie Petit, Ph.D. and Toni Greathouse