who the hell cares?  really?

mcfill-in-the-blank, why do you care that some people don't feel the same about MENSA as you do?  why do you care if some think it's stupid?  do you think they extend that opinion to the members as individuals? to you?

why do you care if some think the tests are hogwash?  in your mind, does that invalidate you accomplishments?

why do you care if some could be in it, choose not to, and then broadcast it (veractiy of their statement not withstanding)?  does their lack of interest in an organization you choose to join reflect in any way on you as an individual?

why, with your superior intellect, would you give a flying rat's ass what other people think about you or any group of which you are a member?  your whining comes off as a desperate attempt to justify your choices, and indirectly seems to validate the opinions of others.

perhaps a little more tact and reserve and civility in your subsequent posts and your points would go a lot farther.

Hey McUzi,

I was a member of Mensa for 2 years.  I got in based upon the strenght of my SAT scores.  I got the newsletter etc., but frankly, the vast majority of the org in downstate New York were beyond nutty although they were all very interesting to talk to.  there was one guy who climbed the Himalayas, another women who was actually Hungarian royalty.  One thing I never did that I would have loved to do was go to the European party they throw in some Austrian fortress.  Fortress something--hoffen.  But frankly, for a younger guy, mensa doesnt do to much around New York.

Well, while we are talkign about coping mechanisms, i have my own theory. Genital Envy.

Our Buddy her apparently feels he is sub standard in the "most important place". THerefore, his coping mechanism is to make everyone else think he is super intelligent so he feels important. Therefore raising his self esteem and making him feel better about himself.


Of course, i am just joking around here. But it would make perfect sense.....

Stop questioning the "smart" man.

Or else he'll call you a "dumbass" or something even more smart.

Can't you tell he's your "intellectual superior"?

I think "smart" people call it a "coping mechanism". [rolleyes]



Yep, that's what they call it.

McUzi,

I was the kid who had 10 times the number of correct answers, changed my speech, etc.  However, not knowing (or pretending not to know)is no crime, and any such person should not be shunned.  Some people who have a high IQ are STUPID.  Some people who don't speak as if they were Ph.D. in English are only IGNORANT.  There is a big difference.  IBTL

blah,,,blah,,,blah...mensa...blah...blah...superior...blah...sat....blah...coping mechanism...blah...blah...precursor ro "making money". ..blah,blahbidyblah..you morons ...

this is a joke right?? this cant be real. this has got to be a joke, no way can anyone take themselves this serious, but yet be so delusional. ill be over here in the corner laughing until this is done. thank you for amusing me.

5'5 weighing 125#??? WTF is this..
In the picture you look about 6'2 230 [;D]

Or maybe he is just gifted and makes no apologies.  We live in a world where there are "dumb-asses" and people who "get it".  That world is not a zero-sum gain.  You may get it on one level and be a dumb-ass on  another.  The kid is still in school and drawing conclusions from his teachings.  Nothing wrong with that.  Why bust his balls for speaking his mind?  So he belongs to a club, big deal.  If he could articulate why it is important to him maybe you would, "get it".  Because you do not get it then the only option is to be placed in the  "dumb-ass" column.  Age and maturity will temper that view.  The first time he has to supervise "dumb-asses" and motivate  them to be successful will be the true test.

Or how about this one:



I also noticed that people that join MENSA are there because they need a place to "be themselves" sounds kinda like they're a bunch of misfits and rejects, maybe shunned because of an superiotity complex.  

I also work with a lot of very very intelligent people.  None of them need to carry on in the manner that he has here.  Usually, when someone gets to the point of cursing like he is and calling us mere mortals, "dumb motherfuckers, dumb asses and morons" it means that his intellect is frustrated and his only recourse is to attack, rather than to clarify and make a statement of intelligence and reason.  

Why is MENSA on AR15.com anyway?   How did the original thread begin and whats the purpose here?  

McUzi, maybe you can inform us what you do for a living.  It might put your lack of communication skills in perspective.

... not sure where this came from but I liked it:


Intelligence appears to be the thing that enables a person to get along without education.
Education (&/or “training”) enables a person to get along without the use of intelligence

Imagination is more important than education.
(Albert Einstein)

Educated people get their ideas from someone else.
Intelligent people create their own ideas.

Educated people see the world as it is and ask why?
Intelligent & Imaginative people see things that do not “yet” exist and ask, why not?

I allowed my membership to lapse upon attending a (as in one) meeting. I was surprised that so many "smart" folks allowed themselves to get suckered in. How fun can it be, a hotel conference room full of schmucks talking about Thoreau's motivation, and past NY Times (Grey Lady to us smart mofos) puzzles? No kidding, these were actual conversations. Couldn't leave fast enough, after scanning for approachable wimmens.

A sidenote. Don't believe the stories about the wildest sex being with psycho chicks. Give me that rare bird, the good looking brainiac chick.

MENSA meetings don't sound like a good place to meet women. If they're anything like the CS classes I had in college, the pickin's are slim.

Kill me, I've responded to one of McUzi's threads.
Nice pic with the beers, by the way. Dude.

On the intelligent women. I've known some psycho types, and some intelligent types, some a bit of each. More good memories with the smarty pants ones, to include my current flame.

None met at any sort of self aggrandizing function.

The SCA is a much better place for finding good looking honeys.  Really... mmmmmmmm all the groovy ones like to dress as peasant girls.  For some reason I dig that.
--------

No, I've never joined MENSA.  It's much easier being a drunk.  But hey, I can keep those morons laughing down at the tavern.

All kidding aside... McUzi, You may just be one of the most gifted people I've ever met.  Then again, you might just be the most unstable.  That seems to be the way of things.  Hope to see you at the next BRC.  I'd like to talk .50's with you some more.

You may join whatever club you wish.  Those who do not wish to join, well, they shouldn't.  If they would rather just insult you because you belong to a group, then lets hear what they have to say about 'gunowners' or 'ar-15.com'.  We all belong to groups, even those self proclaimed 'lone wolves'.  

If they want to insult you because you are proud of your intelligence, then you should just let the insecure little people have their fun.  Hey, it makes them feel good.

Uhm.... and all you dumb people suck [:D].

One day, I'm going to get a life.  Not yet though, not yet.

from the Mensa workout.......

10. If a circle is one, how many is an octagon?

their answer and explanation....

Circle has one line, octagon has eight

Since when is a circle a line?

I know stuff like this isn't the point of Mensa, but it just goes to show how being "smart" is dependent on how it is measured.

Hey McUzi, when did you stop beating your wife?

From Mensa International's website:

"What is Mensa?


Mensa was founded in England in 1946 by Roland Berrill, a barrister, and Dr. Lance Ware, a scientist and lawyer. They had the idea of forming a society for bright people, the only qualification for membership of which was a high IQ. The original aims were, as they are today, to create a society that is non-political and free from all racial or religious distinctions. The society welcomes people from every walk of life whose IQ is in the top 2% of the population, with the objective of enjoying each other's company and participating in a wide range of social and cultural activities."

I amply qualify for membership in Mensa, but

A)  I am repulsed by globalistic, utopian drivel such as the above,

B)  As someone else stated earlier, I would much prefer to have conversations with one hundred educated (either through schooling or good old fashioned experience) "dumbasses", than with one pompous,intellectually "superior" Mensa convert, and

C)  I find that applying my intelligence to the everyday challenges of raising children, working a full time job in law enforcement, being a weekend warrior for Uncle Sam, attending college classes, and participating in my chosen recreational activities (shooting, languages) not only satisfies (if not exceeds!) my intellectual capacities and cravings, but also leaves me short on time to devote to something as silly as a bunch of "smart" people meeting simply to meet with other "smart" people.

Just my $.02 . . .

LOL

So long the days of milkshakes and mistakes. I sit now, drinking Vodka stunted by a salted lemonade and remember how withered are the long past tides of our discreet joy which had been intensified by the Bacardi Rum and overstuffed bags of Cotton Candy that we called our dinner that wonderful night. She looked so beautiful in that pale periwinkle dress, off the rack it was, yet stunning no less. She wore it with a confidence as if she had shopped for hours for a bargain through the cavernous halls of Bloomingdales or Nieman-Marcus only to have it custom tailored at a quaint boutique in Beverly Hills. It was 1967. We had just come across the ridge of a banking cliff, at a dividing line somewhere between the abyss of the northern horizon starlight and the serene sandy edges of Malibu. In those days, Malibu seemed to be the bordering end of Western civilization. I called to her, but the ocean winds, heavy with the spray of salt, captured my voice and swept it beyond the hills.

I called again, "Let me know when I've reached the edge". In more ways than one, I already had.

I backed up the '64 Imperial until I could see her pale skin flush in pink by the cool red-orange light of the taillights combined with the garish white lights of the reverse lamps. As the back of the car bounced lightly on the terrain, casting the dominating red light upon those angelic blue eyes, her brilliance reflected in a way that suggested she had been possessed by a vengeful demon. Her grin, that red glow on her dress, her hands clenched in deviousness the likes of I had never seen. It was bloodthirst after the kill, a lust for malice. And I welcomed it like newfound passion.

"Stop, you're set" she said, half between a whisper and a scream, not unlike what legendary Valkyries must have cried just before they pounced upon their victims.

I leaped from the car and ran to open that long deck lid. The smell of morbidity pierced the both of us; he had been two long days in that trunk, all the way from Memphis. I took off my fedora and threw it back into the car, as there was no use losing it in those high winds, and no point in leaving clues behind. I wrapped my scarf around my nose to fend off the stench, and reached deep into that long trunk to pull him out one disgusting piece at a time. First his arms. Then his legs. Then the bag that held his head, for I could no more look at the guy's putrid face now than when he was alive.

Just after tossing his torso into the waters, I reached for his clothing to follow it all, when the beauty of a woman's mind showed its colorful intelligence.

"Wait!" she cried, still in her shrill whisper.
"Take his wallet out of his jacket!"

I almost forgot; we would have been doomed. I obeyed her every command like a perfect patsy. We tossed everything over the sandy cliff, slammed the trunk lid on the permeating essence of his vile existence, and hopped back into the car like two giddy schoolchildren that had just pulled a silly prank on Halloween. Our giddiness turned into contagious giggles, then into voracious laughter, culminating into a primal howling.

After getting control of ourselves, we slipped back to the dusty path of the Pacific Coast Highway, and calmly began our trek through California to a then developing town called Las Vegas, to discover what fate would bring. We now had money. We now had freedom.

The drive was quiet, except for the occasional and uncontrollable outburst of laughter from either of us, at various times. Then she fell off into a deep sleep, with a content bliss similar to a cat that had just eaten a full meal; even if it was one of her own kittens.

As I drove, I couldn't shake the need for knowing more about the man we had just set into a watery eternity. I pulled the wallet out from under the seat where I had carefully hidden it from view. It was thick, like the kind old men carry around to keep a gallery of grand-kin photos, scrap paper of phone numbers from pals many years dead, old receipts, and membership cards to nightclubs no longer in business. The leather corners were well worn and it was sticky with blood. I flipped through several of the odd notes, antiquated business cards, and other ID, finding one particularly interesting;

his MENSA membership card.






The above content has been registered with Writers Guild of America West, Inc.
August 30, 2002.

Let's make wagers on how long is it going to take Professor McMENSA to figure out that nobody else gives a shit about his club memberships?

I can already see the big ar15.com topic 20 years into the future. "Why you guys are jealous because I'm in The Hair Club for Men", by McBaldy.

What the hell is a "McUzi" anyhow?

And why do I have a sneaking suspicion that its a kid who works at McDonalds and wishes he owned an uzi?[rolleyes]

Paul,

You are cheaper than most too.  Minimum + $2.50?  In california?  No wonder the liberals complain about business owners. [:D]

I don't dare take the MENSA exam.
If the government saw the scores, they'd spirit me off to their super secret bio weapon training facility underneath the Pentagon where they would use the power of my mind to repel incoming ICBM's and light parts of D.C. during high demand periods.

OK, OK.......so you're a MENSA member.....big f*ckin' deal; get over it already, would ya? [rolleyes]

"And why do I have a sneaking suspicion that its a kid who works at McDonalds and wishes he owned an uzi?"

Dunno how to quote from a previous post - sorry I don't post much - but look at the picture that was posted earlier.  Is that the "M" of the "Golden Arches" on his shirt?