I’m kind of depressed. The reason being, I was perusing Dave Hong’s home page, and it was hilarious. Especially his spiel on the people in his life. Oh and also his reasons why Andover is “better” than Bellarmine (<- note the correct spelling, Triple T). Anyway, it was hilarious, and that made me sad. Basically I realized that all the unhappiness in my life can be traced to Dave Hong.
You see, I just realized that I’m just not as funny as Dave Hong. Dave Hong is probably a comic geinus. You know, brilliance doesn’t come often, but my bold claim is that Dave Hong is comedically brilliant. Note the aforementioned people spiels. Also his submitted top ten lists for the AC/DC. Brilliant! Pie for sale! Dave, how do you come up with it? What inspiration!
Anyway, that made me sad, because, you know, no matter how hard I try, I simply will never be as funny as Dave Hong. And oh how I try. But quite simply I fail. I guess I’m jealous. In fact, I can trace my jealousy to the first time I saw Dave Hong. We were at the KCU Welcome Night, freshman year. You know, it was cool, good food, good atmosphere and all that. I was sitting at a table with Eddie Ahn, Dave Choi, and I think this girl from KCU Cathy. In any case, we were having a pleasant enough conversation.
But it didn’t compare to the conversation that was being had at the next table. It was hard to see what was going on, but as far as I could tell, there was a guy there surrounded by approximately 214 Korean girls. I don’t know where they all came from, as I’ve never seen so many Korean girls at Stanford before or since. Maybe they commuted from various universities throughout the West for the chance to sit at a table with Dave Hong. That’s my guess.
Anyway, this guy had them rolling on the floor in laughter. It would be pretty quiet, and you could hear a single voice. Then I guess the voice would tell the punchline, and there would be an eruption of female laughter. The tables would shake, glasses would shatter, and dogs throughout North America would bark. It was crazy stuff, I tell you. I just remember thinking, “Wow, that guy is the Hit Of The Party.”
And he was. So, you know, it made our pleasant enough conversation seem retarded in comparison. It actually was pretty retarded. You know, we were all talking to each other, but all of our heads were turned 90 degrees as we tried to get a glimpse of the Hit Of The Party through the throngs of females. We probably weren’t even coherent with each other. It didn’t matter, since we weren’t listening, anyway. We were all trying to look at the Hit Of The Party.
So that was my first glimpse of Dave Hong. So like any normal Homo Sapiens would do, I made it my goal at Stanford to be as much like Dave as possible. But how do you imitate genius? Oh if there were only a formula for brilliancy like that which is Dave Hong! Alas, there is not. But I tried to figure it out. What is it? He’s pretty random, Ok, I can do random. So I tried that. But it didn’t work. Whereas his randomness had females swooning, my randomness got at best quizzical looks (cf. Lorraine Shih); at worst threats of castration (Henry Hsu). So that didn’t work.
In fact, no matter how hard I try, I can’t do it. THere’s nothing in particular that makes one Dave Hong, it’s the combination. The randomness, the ugly shirts, the bad hair, the bad breath, the remarkable lack of manners in IV large group, etc. It simply can’t be done.
So my Stanford career has been one of frustration. I want to be like Dave Hong but I can’t. So basically all my unhappiness has been a result of Dave Hong. Every action I make can be attributed to Dave Hong. I hate you, Dave.
So here I am, sitting at a computer, trying deperately to be as funny as Dave Hong. But I can’t do it. The best I can do is be uncomfortable. So we went to the Museum of Intolerance and I say to Eli, hey wouldn’t it be funny if we got a ceremonial cirumcision knife for ….. (one of our “untouched” friends). Ha ha. Wait, that’s not funny. That’s uncomfortable. Great, I did it again. Thanks a lot, Dave.