Wie ben ik? (a modern man)

Ik dacht vandaag weer eens aan George Carlin. In de show “Life is worth meaning” in 2005 gebruikte hij een leuke opening:

I’m a modern man.
A man for the millennium.
Digital and smoke free.

A diversified.
Multi-cultural.
Post-modern deconstructionist.
Politically, anatomically
and ecologically incorrect.

I’ve been up-linked
and downloaded.
I’ve been inputted
and outsourced.
I know the upside
of downsizing.
I know the
downside of upgrading.

I’m a high-tech low life.
A cutting edge,
state of the art.
Bi-coastal multi-tasker.
And I can give you a
gigabyte in a nanosecond.

I’m new wave.
But I’m old school.
And my inner child
is outward bound.
I’m a hot-wired.
Heat seeking,
warm-hearted cool customer.
Voice-activated
and biodegradable.

I interface from a database.
My database is in cyberspace.
So I’m interactive.
I’m hyperactive
and from time to time.
I’m radioactive.

Behind the eight ball,
ahead of the curve.
Riding the wave,
dodging the bullet,
pushing the envelope.

I’m on point, on task,
on message and off drugs.
I got no need
for coke and speed.
I got no urge
to binge and purge.

I’m in the moment.
On the edge,
over the top
but under the radar.

A high concept, low profile,
medium range
ballistic missionary.
A streetwise smart bomb.
A top gun bottom feeder.
I wear power ties.
I tell power lies.
I take power naps.
I run victory laps.

I’m a totally
ongoing big foot,
slam-dunk rainmaker
with a proactive outreach.

A raging workaholic.
A working rageaholic.
Out of rehab and in denial.

I got a personal trainer,
a personal shopper,
a personal assistant
and a personal agenda.

You can’t shut me up.
You can’t dumb me down.
Because I’m tireless
and I’m wireless.
I’m a alpha male
on beta blockers.

I’m a non-believer
and an overachiever.
Laid back but fashion forward.
Up front, down home,
low rent.
High maintenance.
Super size, long lasting,
high definition, fast-acting,
oven-ready and built to last.

I’m a hands-on. Footloose.
Knee jerk head case.
Prematurely post-traumatic,
and I have a love child
who sends me hate mail.

But I’m feeling.
I’m caring.
I’m healing.
I’m sharing.
A supportive, bonding,
nurturing primary caregiver.

My output is down,
but my income is up.
I take a short position
on the long bond.
And my revenue stream
has its own cash flow.

I read junk mail.
I eat junk food.
I buy junk bonds.
I watch trash sports.
I’m gender specific,
capital intensive,
user friendly
and lactose intolerant.

I like rough sex.
I like tough love.
I use the F word in my email.
And the software
in my hard drive
is hardcore, no soft porn.

I bought a microwave
at a mini mall.
I bought a minivan
at a megastore.
I eat fast food
in the slow lane.
I’m toll free. Bite size.
Ready to wear and
I come in all sizes.

A fully equipped,
factory authorized,
hospital tested,
clinically proven,
scientifically formulated
medical miracle.

I’ve been prewashed, precooked, preheated, prescreened, preapproved, prepackaged, post-dated, freeze dried. Double wrapped, vacuum packed
and I have an unlimited
broadband capacity.

I’m a rude dude.
But I’m the real deal.
Lean and mean.
Cocked, locked
and ready to rock.
Rough, tough
and hard to bluff.

I take it slow.
I go with the flow.
I ride with the tide.
I got glide in my stride.
Driving and moving.
Sailing and spinning.
Jiving and grooving.
Wailing and winning.

I don’t snooze.
So I don’t lose.
I keep the pedal to the metal
and the rubber on the road.
I party hearty.
And lunch time is crunch time.

I’m hanging in.
There ain’t no doubt.
And I’m hanging tough.
Over and out.