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I Think I'm Such Hot Shit

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360 Tour: Inside The RNC

The Onion invites you to explore our view from the floor of the 2016 Republican National Convention in Cleveland.

Good Guy With Gun, Bad Guy With Gun Both Excited To Unload Firearm In Crowd Outside Arena

CLEVELAND—As each of them looked around at the people gathered outside Quicken Loans Arena and fantasized about unholstering their weapon and taking aim directly at others, both a good guy with a gun and a bad guy with a gun attending the Republican National Convention reportedly worked themselves into a heightened state of excitement Thursday at the thought of unloading their firearm into the crowd.

Bob Dole Picked Off By Large Hawk Circling Arena Parking Lot

CLEVELAND—Describing how the bird of prey suddenly dived down from the sky at high velocity, sources confirmed Thursday that former GOP presidential nominee Bob Dole was picked off by a large red-tailed hawk circling above the Quicken Loans Arena parking lot.
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I Think I'm Such Hot Shit

Boy, what is up with me? I strut around like I'm God's gift to the world or something. I think I'm so fascinating, I'm convinced everybody's just dying to listen to me ramble on about myself for hours on end. It's getting more obvious to me every day: I think I'm such hot shit!

When I look back on my life so far, I realize I've never accomplished anything terribly meaningful. I'm okay-looking but not stunning, I earn a modest living, and I certainly don't expect anyone to remember me 20 years after I die. But you wouldn't know that from the way I tell it! Yup, I pretty much think the sun shines out of my asshole.

A few months ago, I bought a new car, a bright-red 2000 Pontiac Firebird. And, of course, for weeks after I got it, I made a big, fat, hairy deal about it at work, making sure everybody saw me in it when I arrived each morning. "Ooh, look at me in my new car! Aren't I cool?" I would practically scream as I fought to get the most visible parking space in the company lot. Sure, a Firebird is a decent sportscar. But it's not like it's a Ferrari or anything. What an annoying showoff I am. And without all that much to show off about.

Oh, and I'm always cracking jokes, too. I think I'm so fucking funny. I think I'm a regular Jerry Friggin' Seinfeld. It doesn't matter who's talking or what the context is, I'll always butt in with one of my lame quips. Or, if you try to tell a funny story, I'll get jealous and chime in with some stupid pun, just to draw the attention back to me. Because I always need to be the star. What a big baby.

I've come up with a few theories as to why all of this is. One is that I'm an only child, and my parents spoiled me and cooed over every stupid thing I did no matter how dumb it was, so I grew up thinking the whole world would coo over me, too. Another is that I'm insecure about my many sexual inadequacies, so I try to compensate for them by being as socially dominant and overbearing as possible.

Whatever the reason, one thing's painfully clear: I need to be put in my place. Wouldn't it be fantastic if some fed-up co-worker of mine took me aside and informed me that everyone around the office is sick and tired of me and would love it if I stopped being such a self-centered, loud-mouth, know-it-all prick?

On the other hand, you can't just tell a stuck-in-his-ways 31-year-old, "Please promptly rewire your entire personality so that you're no longer an incredible asshole." No, telling me off wouldn't work. And firing me under a phony pretense wouldn't either. Knowing me, it'd just lead me to file some sort of formal grievance against the company or, better yet, some bullshit discrimination lawsuit.

So I guess I don't know what to suggest for a solution. It's looking like I'll die thinking I'm hot shit, not having the slightest clue what a cocksucker I am. I tell you, people like me never learn.

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