Do you watch those adds for 23 and Me and think, Gee, I should really do this because it would be fascinating to learn more about me?

Same here! I’m so interested in my DNA because I know I’m special. My ancestors are probably special too. My grandparents were all Jews from Eastern Europe but my DNA will probably show that I’m descended from Queen Nefertiti and The Romanov family. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that Albert Einstein is my 11th cousin!

I’ve often wondered how I got to be me. It can’t just be some shit about my crazy parents and my early childhood trauma. The story of Me is so much more complicated and goes so far back! It’s not about my parents’ divorce or my mom’s psychiatric profile! The wonder of me started millions of years ago in the swampy brine of our prehistoric planet. That’s where the real answers are.

23 and Me can show me my traits, a whole list of them, because I have never really met myself and thus need to see my traits printed out. Here’s what I can learn from a swab of my saliva:

So fascinating! I’ve often wondered about my earwax type, or rather my genetic propensity toward a certain earwax type. Not to mention my photic sneeze reflex. I don’t think I have red hair, but I want to be sure. And I’d like to know where I stand on my toe length ratio. Because then, I don’t know, I’ll just feel more familiar with my feet.

I want to find out when the depression got into my genetic code. Hundreds of years ago or what? And why do I have so many fillings and crowns on my teeth? What if my sensitivity to smell is inherited?!?!? Then, when I walk into a house and smell a gas leak, I can shout “I smell gas and my ancestors did too!”

Also, what about my-nearsightedness? I know my parents were near-sighted but it must be a long and fascinating tale that didn’t begin with us. There’s just so much I’m curious about!

Being me has always been kind of meh. “Who the fuck are you” I have asked my self bitterly, with no clear answer. I’m not just a bunch of misfiring neurons, godammit. I am amazing! With a long long history of amazingness.

I have wasted so much time reading the classics, reading shit about philosophy, psychology, art, culture, politics, without learning anything about Me and how I came to have freckles when I was a kid.

What a dope I am. Don’t be like me, be You! 23 and Me is running a special for Mother’s Day. Find out why you’re so amazing RIGHT NOW, at 20% off.

Ha, I thought. What then? That’ll fuck him up!

My husband pointed out that the acquaintance would just say, “Let’s talk after the holidays.”

Then he asked me what good it would do to get this guy to admit the truth.

Let’s pause here.

I have some questions.

Do you like to hear the truth?
Are you annoyed when you know someone is not being straight with you?
Do you practice denial in your daily life?
Do you respect other people’s right to practice denial?
Do you try to avoid being frank about unpleasant things?
And of course: Can you handle the truth?

I can’t handle the untruth. One of my most obnoxious traits is that I go around trying to get people to admit stuff.

There’s a song by Jane’s Addiction called “Ted, Just Admit it“that refers to Ted Bundy, the serial killer who wouldn’t admit to his crimes until just before he was executed.

I think of the title all the time, when someone is expecting me to accept some bullshit, however insignificant. JUST ADMIT IT TED, I feel like yelling. In fact, I think I have yelled it a couple times.

No one likes a friend who acts like a cross examining prosecutor but that doesn’t stop me.

Why can’t everybody just admit everything?

Is Oedipus an allegory about the price of knowing the truth? What about the story of Adam and Eve? Why are there so many myths that reinforce the idea that ignorance is bliss?

The truth might not set you free but it will make me feel better. I just want to hear it and get it over with.

Admit that you’re tired of this confession, which is territory I have already covered, sort of.

Admit that you don’t care about bad faith, as defined in existentialism.

Admit your deepest secret, at least to yourself, and see how liberating it is.

Admit everything, except in a court of law or a 12 step meeting or if your boss finds out you haven’t been filing those things but instead you just threw them in a box somewhere because you were busy fucking around online. Then you should just keep your mouth shut.

Wouldn’t you know, Grandpa wants to cancel the debate scheduled for Friday night!   He needs to go to Washington to pretend he’s a leader.

NO, GRANDPA! It’s not time for your nap! You can’t back out of the debate just because the economy is bad. What the fuck does he take us for? Are we idiots?!   Are we in Inglewood?! Grandpa is also talking about postponing the vice-presidential debate, according to CNN.

These people are desperate, and they’re hoping to somehow steal this election just like George W did. I’m at the point where nothing seems too bizarre or evil, including the President threatening that the whole world will end unless congress passes his $700 billion deal.

Fuck these crazy bastards. Go here and watch the tape of Mrs. P getting blessed by a Witch Doctor. Be afraid. Then, go here and you may decide, as I have, that Tigger is poor Bristol’s baby, not Mrs. P’s. There is more evidence than any sentient being can possibly reject as ‘just rumors.’

*UPDATE:   And look! I got my images to upload.   No one can mess with me, godammit,   not even wordpress.