Planning Ahead

Shit.

Having perused the websites of various philanthropic organizations that give smart people money to go to grad school, I have realized that I am not nearly as smart and wonderful as my mother had previously told me I am.

Who knew.

The people who win these scholarships have biographies that read like this:

Elected to Phi Beta Kappa on the day of his conception, Charles Radborn displayed his genius early on by making all the other kids feel stupid. At age two, he was named one of the nation's "Top 30 Under 3" for sacrificing his pet fish in order to perform the world's first fish-to-sister heart transplant. The technique he pioneered during that operation is known as "The Radborn Guppy Method."

His pre-school thesis--the subject of which has since been classified--earned him honorary degrees from both Harvard and MIT, which, along with his fuzzy blankie and his stuffed bear, Boo-bah, are now among his most prized possessions. What's that? Oh. Sorry. Charlie doesn't actually have a fuzzy blankie or a Boo-bah. Those were just someone's lame attempts to humanize him. In actuality, he abhors the soft materials used in most children's toys and, instead, derives his comfort from thinking of the various aromatic compounds used in the synthesis of a molecular diode.

Currently just seven years old, Mr. Radborn is fluent. There is no need to specify in which languages. In his spare time, he enjoys correcting other people's grammar, singing Christmas songs in Klingon, and drawing fractals.

So.

Because the biggest innovation I came up with before age seven involved wearing my underwear on the outside, I am beginning to think I may need another method of raising money for grad school.

Hence, the Google Ads below.