Clem Boykins, 55

Porta-Potty Cleaner/Visionary

In the previous chapters we've touched on the Smartypants Prohibition Act (SPA), the comprehensive federal law that made "smart" technology a capital crime. There were also less severe punishments for such infractions as "being a know-it-all," "acting like you're better than us" and "thinking your shit don't stink."

The unlikely inspiration for the SPA was a letter to the editor of The Weekly Grumbler: The Magazine for Malcontents written by Clem Boykins. It was an angry and resentful rant against the "smartypanstes" who "think there soooooooo smart" but "ain't got no lick a commun sents nohow!!!!!!! "

It clearly struck a chord with the shellshocked public, going bacterial (without the internet, nothing goes viral anymore, except for actual viruses) and in a matter of weeks his screed was considered by many to be The Declaration of Independence of post-Robot Apocalypse America, and Clem is now seen as a modern-day Thomas Jefferson. In terms of literary merit, it pales in comparison to our Founding Father's masterwork, but it surely exceeds him in terms of exclamation points and typos. When our resident grammarian Lucas tried to read it, he literally had a seizure.

It was kind of funny.

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Welcome, Mr. Boykins. Thank you for speaking to us today.

Is that supposed to be a joke, son? Are you making fun of me? I'm not going to sit here and be mocked!

No one is mocking you, Mr. Boykins.

Well, you better not be! Because I've got no problem pulling the plug on this interview right now!

Understood.

Good. So what do you want to know?

Let's start with your now-famous letter to the editor. What were you thinking when you wrote it?

I dunno.

Excuse me?

Truth is, I don't remember writing it. You see, son, I sometimes have memory loss 'cause of this medical condition I got.

Huntington's disease? Brain tumor? CTE?

Black-out drinking.

I see.

OK, now you're mocking me! That was a mock!

Not at all. I just find it interesting. You wrote this extraordinary letter that would change the course of history and you had no idea you had written anything!

That's right. Not until a friend a mine showed it to me in the paper.

Really?

Actually, Rocco's probably less of a friend than a — whattaya call it? — loan shark.

Is that why you your leg is in a cast?

None of your business, son. What? Are you writing a book?

I am.

Oh. Then yes, that's how I got the cast.

Were you surprised to see the name Clem Boykins in The Grumbler?

Was I ever! I thought, "Wow! There's another Clem Boykins out there! What of the chances of that?"[Laughs] And judging from the letter he wrote, we seen eye to eye on everything! [Laughs] But eventually I figured out it was me.

Did you find it worrying that you had no memory of writing that letter?

Ha! Are you kidding? It was like waking up in the morning and discovering that someone else had done your homework for you!

That brings us to the topic of education. How was school for you?

Not much to tell. Got kicked out in ninth grade.

For what?

Inappropriately touching the teacher.

I thought I read somewhere that you were homeschooled by your Mom?

You media people! Always getting your facts wrong!

Good. Because that would be weird.

She was my step-mom.

Oh, boy.

And besides, she was the same age as me.

So, long, creepy story short: You weren't much of a student.

Yup. But there's more to life than being book-smart.

So you're street smart?

Whoa! Don't be putting words in my mouth, son! Lookit. Whenever I try to hire a prostitute either she turns out to be a he, or if she actually is a she, she's an undercover cop. Not only that, but I'm always picking fights with people I shouldn'ta, like biker gangs and professional hockey players and mannequins.

Mannequins?

Not all of 'em. Just the ones that cop an attitude. With their hand on their hip, looking right past you like you don't even exist! You know the ones I mean, right?

I guess.

My point is that I ain't street smart. If anything, I'm whatever the opposite of street smart is!

Street stupid?

You say "stupid" like it's a bad thing.

Isn't it?

Hell to the no, son! I'd much rather be stupid than smart!

Because...?

OK. Did you know that if you lick a metal pole when it's below freezing outside your tongue will get stuck to it?

Yeah. Of course.

Well, so do I. But somehow, a few times every winter I lick a metal pole anyway.

That is unbelievable.

Believe it, son. Now let me ask you a question. How did doing something stupid like getting my tongue stuck to a metal pole cause the Robot Apocalypse?

Um... it didn't.

That's right. I may have torn off my taste buds so many times that they stopped growing back. I may not be able to tell the difference between Chef Boyardee Ravioli and a goat turd—

In fairness, neither can anyone else.

—but I didn't cause the Robot Apocalypse, did I?

No, you did not.

Damn right I didn't! First off, I got me a — whattaya call it? — an alibaba.

Alibi?

That's what I said, son. I was in my RV watching one of them cooking shows on TV with my girlfriend.

Um... when you say "girlfriend"... you don't mean your step—

No, it's nothing like that! Although, actually, Cheryl's probably less of a girlfriend than a — whattaya call it? — arresting officer. My point is that it was the smartypantses who damn near caused the death of the whole damn human race! I mean, you ever heard of dumb people making super-smart machines that think for themselves? 'Course not! You know why?

Because you can't?

Well... yeah. But even if we coulda we wouldn'ta.

And why not?

Look, son, I might not be the sharpest bulb in the deck, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's never to trust anybody smarter'n me.

You must not trust very many people.

Damn right! Lookit: When the stock market crashes, who causes it? Smart people! But who winds up losing their jobs? Dumb people! Even though we don't even use the stock market in the first place! Who invented global warming? Smart people! Who has to spell out the word help in sandbags on the roof after yet another hurricane? Dumb people! Who invented the internet? Smart people! Who winds up on a list of sex offenders because they don't realize until it's too late that YoungBalls.com is not the official website of Little League? Dumb people! And the worst part is that we never get a say. When smart people decided to make enough atom bombs to blow up the world, they didn't ask for our permission. When they decided that they were going to make arty-fishy intelligence, they didn't let us vote. 'Cause I promise you that if they put it on the ballot — Should we make robots so much smarter than us that they could wipe us out in seconds? — I definitely would'a voted against that. If I voted, I mean.

You don't vote?

Why would I? It's just a big scam.

OK.

But the smartypantses did have a vote and they decided to let the robots run wild. Let me tell you, son, you gotta be really smart to be that dumb!

And that's why we have the SPA?

That's right. The smartypantses had their chance and they blew it, big time! Now it's time for the stupid people to take the wheel.

And they certainly have. But now that there are reports of zombies, don't you think you should enlist some, as you say, "smartypantses" to help deal with this?

Hell to the no! What's the saying? Fool me once, go fuck yourself, you son of a bitch! You think you're better than me? Well, you're not!

All right. And finally, I have to ask about the rumor that you might run for President.

Thinking about it. I haven't made up my mind.

When do you think you will?

I'll let you know after my next blackout.