Congratulations Confederacy of Actual Dunces!

“For too long the stupid have been dismissed as dumb or whatever by other people!” you’ll shout, pounding your fist on the piece of wood resting atop concrete cinderblocks that passes for a table. “No more!”

Your comrades will mumble to one another in vague approval.

“I like biscuits,” one will announce.

“Ed Hardy shirts,” another will utter.

“Special sauce,” a third will concur.

“Okay!” you’ll shout, pounding the “table” again. This time you’ll strike it right in its middle, shattering the plywood and sending all the crackers you and your friends had carefully stacked on the table tumbling to the ground.

“Fuckin’ blacks!” you’ll shout at the ceiling.

Your friends will again mumble their concurrence. You’ll pick up your guns and march out into the street, where you’ll begin shooting around at random. The police will arrive within ten minutes of the disturbance emerging and suppress it rapidly, killing all but a handful of your friends and capturing you to stand trial for what will be known in the years to come as “the Retard Rebellion of 2012.”

Congratulations Confederacy of Actual Dunces!