• Mr Bigleys

My Quest For A Personality



With the 2021 World Grand Re-Opening upon us, millions of American’s across the interwebs are scrambling as they come to the realization that face-to-face contact with other human beings is going to, once again, be a necessity to life. With over a year of minimal human contact, what are we expected to do?


It’s a question I’ve been asking myself since the release of the vaccine. I’ve debated surpassing the jab in hopes that our overlords wouldn’t allow the unvaccinated to show face in public. But following the announcement that those who don’t get the vaccine just have to wear masks, that plan was quickly ruined. There was no denying reality; No more procrastinating. It was time I finally establish a personality, but how?


See, a personality is something that takes years of developing, tweaking, and quite frankly, stealing. With today’s technology, it feels as though much of a modern personality revolves around whatever imaginary world we curate via our social media pages.


While this trend was already a pandemic of its own, the COVID epidemic and shutdowns that followed have only exasperated the concerning behavior. As human interaction has dwindled, we’ve begun absorbing into ourselves. This, in turn, has caused personalities to devolve from a deeply complex and intangible concept to something that people specialize in; As if it’s a career choice.


It’s no secret that being well-rounded is a thing of the past. Yet, in a time where we all like to think of ourselves as unique individuals, there sure are a lot of people who aspire to have their entire essence definable in under 3-5 words. Fortunately for your boy, this lack of character development, quick-fix route is exactly what I was looking for.


As a personality free agent, the field was mine for the choosing. I could be anything I wanted, except interesting. With that in mind, I’ve taken these past couple of months to try out a few of these one-dimensional personalities to see which fits me best. Here, I share my experiences with you:

1…Cosplaying Country


For years, I had the false mindset that being country meant you were either from the south and/or a very rural, farm-based area. I assumed being country included long workdays, rodeos, and dirt roads. At the very least, I figured an array of things would disqualify me from consideration of being a country boy: My office job, living within 15 minutes of a WholeFood’s, recently transitioning to a black transracial…



None of this was true, however. There were examples all around me - in my suburban setting - that would say quite the contrary. Thousands, perhaps even millions of white American’s clock out of their office jobs every day, convinced they’re country.


You don’t need dirt roads and hard, labor-intensive workdays to be a good ole’ boy; I reckon you just need a Luke Combs album and a leased Silverado. In SoDoSoPa, hitting curbs is enough to be considered “off-roading.”



Seeing as though I was fixin’ for a personality of my own, I gave it a try. But after months of never using my Silverado’s truck bed and terrible gas mileage, something didn’t feel right. Sho’ nuff, I was like a pot calling the kettle black. As someone who don’t believe in cultural appropriation all that much, here I was appropriating my own kind. The country cosplaying community may be fun, but when it comes to doing country work, we’re about as useless as a screen door on a submarine. I mean, you take me out the temperature-controlled climate of 72 degrees, and I’ll start sweating harder than a hooker in church. For goodness sakes, my parent’s paid a lawn service to cut our half-acre of grass growing up.


In the end, it made me reconsider a lot of things. I traded in my transracial roots for cosplaying country. It was as if I was given two nickels for a dime and thought I was rich. This wasn’t who I was...Beside’s, do you know how expensive lumber has become since the pandemic? Burning crosses every weekend begins to add up…


2…Becoming My Dog


Similar to others during the lockdown, I, too, adopted a dog. What can I say? I was sad and lonely. You know when people say their kids gave them meaning in life? I did that, but in a much more responsible way. Fortunately for the human gene pool, I tried using a dog instead of a human being to see if I could shake that nagging feeling of wanting to off myself.


I was able to learn the ropes of canine culture by visiting my local dog park regularly. It only took me a few visits in to realize there were some unspoken rules: Upon entering the park, it’s required that a person leaves both eye contact and social skills at the gate. Instead, this deplorable community - which I’m a part of - prefers adopting the fantasy personality that they've created for their dogs to make as their own.


I took what I learned from the dog park and applied it to my real life. Then I thought, “Why stop at just the dog park? Instead of enjoying the presence of my puppy inside the confines of my own home, why not bring him everywhere?”


I felt as though I had unlocked a secret cheat code to life: By becoming the guy who never just leaves his fucking dog at home, I can distract those around me from my lack of attractive qualities. This, in turn, allows me to avoid working on myself by speaking to others indirectly, in the third person, as my dog.


For example, just a few weeks ago, my dog greeted a pretty woman walking her puppy:


Me: “Oh’s did the Charlie’s meets a new fwiend? Who’s your new fwiend?”


Girl: “My name is Cindy, her name is Nala."


Me: “Did the good boy ask the Cindy’s if she would like to have sex with daddy?”


Girl: “What?”


Me: “Maybe the Charlie’s can doggystyle Nala while daddy doggies Cindy. Is that something the Cindy’s would be interested in?”


Unfortunately, this facade of a personality is nothing more than a short-term patch-up job. Although a dog may be able to singlehandedly drag your corpse of a personality into having sexual intercourse, you’ll come to find that women begin to feel uncomfortable when you say things mid-sex like, “Who’s a bad girl? You’s a bad girls aren’t you? Yes you are. Yes you are!”


I thought we were just talking dirty, but the police report states otherwise. It also didn’t help that I rubbed her nose in the period blood she left on my sheets and sent, what I thought, was a funny picture to my friends of her cowering in the corner as I lectured her.


3…Being Rich


This one didn’t last long. My friends said they knew all along. Apparently I’m what they refer to as being a “closeted poor.”

…or, wait…was it “closeted gay” that they used?…I should probably get that cleared up…I’ll get back to you on this one...


4…Being a Foodie

With my failures beginning to stack up like pancakes, I knew I had to find a new angle. During this time, I created a Tinder profile to get a feel for what women were seeking. It didn’t take long for a trend to appear: I found that most of the likes I was receiving were from women who were self-described “foodies.” I know this because it’s never not in their bio.



I won’t describe these voluptuous gals as being “fat” because fat-shaming isn’t something we do here, but I will say many do come with 5-6 pre-morbidities included. That, or they round out their personalities (not a fat joke) with “boating enthusiast” and/or being a “world traveler.” All thinly veiled terms for what’s better known as being a “mooch,” of course…which is fine…As a closeted poor with many wealthy friends myself, I, too, am a moocher. I understand enjoying the “finer things in life” without ever putting in time for things like a prosperous “career.”

Still, the theory of basing a personality on a means of survival is genius. The least I have to work to achieve a personality, the more I’m for it. Once considered a necessary human behavior, eating has since been adopted as an entire sense of self. These are people who simply enjoy consuming food…that’s it…rebranded, repackaged, and sold to you in a cute term for overindulgence; “foodie.” So why not try, quite possibly, the laziest, most first-world personality ever created?


Initially, things started out great for me. I was eating everything and everywhere; Top-notch restaurants with meals to die for. I’m talking the cream of the crop, which I ate too. But it all took a sideways turn when I found myself becoming something that I hate: A Yelp reviewer, but even more disgustingly, a 3-star Yelp reviewer...



When I first adopted the foodie lifestyle, I thought it would only consist of eating, but I found there’s much more to it. In order to consider yourself an elite foodie, the responsibility of reviewing these restaurants for the betterment of the community bears on you. Next thing I knew, I was taking off two stars for forgetting my extra side and grading fast food spots on the same scale as a Michelin-rated restaurant.


Overall, it just became too much work. After achieving an elite level of Yelping, I felt that there was no more to prove. My time of substituting linguine and carrot cake for a personality was over.

5…Becoming Joe Rogan


Not dissimilar to how black people are born with a genetic predisposition exposing them to a higher risk of developing diabetes - I, as a white twenty-something, heterosexual male with a frail sense of manhood, have been set up to take the word of Joe Rogan as absolute gospel. That’s not a shot at Rogan, of course. Anyone with a large enough reach will have a certain portion of their audience who take their every last word as the absolute truth. This certain portion of people is me...



If you’ve read some of my previous articles, you’ll know I consider Joe my bro-shaman. But with the pandemic hitting and people listening to more and more podcasts to replace - what used to be - human interactions, stealing takes from a six-hour JRE podcast and rebranding them as my own opinions are beginning to become harder to get away with.


With everyone listening to the same podcasts now, conversations with other guys have transformed from my own personal Joe Rogan Show, to participating in a Bachelor-Esque recap show for men.


For that reason, I had to ditch adopting Joe Rogan as my personality…Well, at least until I get blackout drunk. Then we can both discuss the hard-on’s we have for David Goggin’s, elk meat, and how sick it was when him and Musk blew kush klouds on episode 1169.



6…Adopting Politics As My Personality


Similar to millions of American’s all across this great nation, I, too, tried my hand at becoming a political pundit (as previously discussed):



During the past 4-5 years, we’ve been blessed with an opportunity to hear groundbreaking speeches by generational thought leaders. These, of course, include the likes of Donald Trump, Hillary Clinton, and Joe Biden. With what feels like a second renaissance era upon us, how could we not be swayed by such an inspiring assemblage of minds and personalities?


The tough decision was picking which way I would lean. The people who adopt political stances as their entire existence know that once you associate with one side, you can never speak to the other side again....because anyone who understands anything about persuasion recognizes that in order to change the minds of others, one must avoid any contact with those who disagree altogether. Take Tinder as an example:



When it came time to choose my side, I decided to throw a press conference, similar to a D1 football prospect choosing their university:



Being the blue-eyed, blonde hair heterosexual male that I am, it made the most sense to choose MAGA:



In particular, I aspired to follow in the footsteps of a staunch republican Twitter profile I kept coming across on trending political topics:



She brought something to the table that I had never previously considered. Not only was this woman a republican, she was a SURVIVOR OF TERRORISM.


Wow,” I thought, “Imagine the social boost I would get if I could do that somehow - Survive terrorism.”


In the following weeks, I did everything I could to take part as a victim in a terrorist attack. For months I strategically placed myself in situations that I saw as the best opportunity to be blown up, or at the very least, have a limb cut off. Unfortunately, suspicions rose after I kept asking the Imam (Muslim priest) conspicuous questions like “So, when and where we doing our first display of fireworks?”


Ends up, society looks down on people who hang around Mosques and Halal markets, attempting to high five passerby’s while saying things like, “Up high. Down low. The CIA’s response to 9/11 was too slow.”



Is that what it's called?....Hm....Are you....Huh...Yeah, I mean...Well, nonetheless, participating in a terrorist attack as a victim is a game of luck, and I simply don’t have that kind of time…or money to fight the Mosque’s restraining order, but that’s neither here nor there.

7…Using The Position Of The Stars


With things starting to look bleak, and a feeling that I’d never develop a real personality beginning to creep in, it was time to take a drastic turn.


There was a period in my life when I viewed astrology as a fake science. I’ve always felt that basing your attitude and personality off a daily horoscope was better classified as a medical diagnosis: Being bipolar with a sprinkle of schiz. But that was before I struggled to find my own personality.


Just because I have personal shortcomings that I, hypothetically, should be working through to become a better person over the long haul, doesn’t mean I still shouldn’t be able to act erratically with absolute impunity only to place blame on the fact that I’m a Pisces, right?


I quickly scrambled to find a horoscope that broadly described some feelings that every person has experienced at some point in their life. After coming across a weekly Elle horoscope, my jaw hit the floor:



I looked back to see what I was doing around the time that the article pointed to:



YES! OF COURSE! It’s time that I - a white, arguably heterosexual male - solve racism once and for all. With racial tension at an all-time high, I think we can agree a white needs to take the helms. Fear not, your white knight has arrived.


NO! NO! YOU KNOW I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT!


After months of searching for a personality, I’ve finally found my calling. The barrier of entry was much higher in the past, but in today’s world, there are typically only two qualifiers: (1) Being a sociopath. Check. (2) Being the smartest hypocrite in the room. CHECK.


So without further ado, I’m proud to announce my official personality adjective to which I would like to be referred to as….


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8...A Social Media Activist


With my personality set, I drove over to my sister's house to celebrate. Upon arrival, my brother-in-law insisted on showing me their new $1400 Sonos surround sound speaker system. We threw on the first movie that popped up on Netflix to test them out:



It was mind-blowing: The sound system, not the movie. I mean, the movie was fine - sort of depressing, in my opinion - but the surround sound made it feel as though I was there in the middle of the bombings. I damn near added "Survivor of Terrorism" to my Twitter bio, it felt so real.


To show other's this incredible set of speakers, I posted a video to my IG. To my surprise, the messages I received had nothing to do with the Sonos; They were all supportive messages thanking me for getting the message out about Syria.

Immediately, I knew. I had done nothing but post a video bragging about $1400 speakers, yet the only thing anyone could focus on was my accidental activism. I was hooked. If Elle's horoscope wasn't evidence enough, it was now crystal clear this was meant for me. With the help of my lucky stars, I had finally found my calling -- A personality that doesn't require me to leave the comfort of my own home. I was, officially, a Twitter activist.


With the Syrian crisis now solved, I'd like to announce my next focus: I will not be leaving my house until we, as a society, step up and #EndRacism. And by the looks of racism's lengthy history, it doesn't look like I'll be leaving anytime soon. Thank God.


Until then, here's a thread I made, keyed in on eliminating racism:




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