From The Desk Of Mack: The Biggest Misconception About Me
Hello, interpals. Mack here, taking a brief interlude from cataloging all of the cryptozoological species I’ve shot while they trespassed on my property to respond to exactly one of your questions in as much time as it takes my bola snare turret to reload itself. (Coming up with thoughtful, spiritually-cleansing answers to your desperate inquiries takes time, and these Pegasus wings aren’t going to illustrate themselves into my taxonomy notebook.)
Twitter user @MarshaMelloh asks: “If there is one major misconception about you, what would you like fans and listeners to know?”
MarshaMelloh, first of all, great name. I love puns almost as much as I love marshmallows, so you can imagine my excitement when I perked my head up from the handlebars of my jet ski and commanded my assistant to stop reading out questions from the edge of my pool and spell your screen name for me. When I confirmed that I had indeed heard your name correctly, I flipped my ‘ski out of the pool and snatched the question from his hands in midair so I could read it myself. Now, days later and with the last bits of exploded jet ski fiberglass finally removed from my calves, I’ve finally given your question enough thought to answer.
Marsha, when I think back on the past few decades of my life as a world-famous entertainer, scholar, industrialist, treasure hunter, and shark tamer, I realize that most of my fans share the same assumption about me, which is that my feet touch the ground on a regular basis. This couldn’t be further from the truth. My feet have not touched the ground since 1987, when I unlocked the power of levitation.
“But Mack,” you might be saying, “I own all of your films on multiple formats, and have watched them more times than mathematics was ever meant to quantify. Your feet touch the ground in virtually all of them.” That’s where you’re wrong, friend. You see, long ago, when I discovered this great power, I also gained the wisdom that humanity was not ready to see the natural laws of the universe shattered so confidently. So I trained in secret, perfecting a technique that allowed me to hover a few millimeters above the earth, a distance nearly imperceptible to the naked eye. Go back to your Mack Collection and give my films another watch. Notice anything different? You sure did—you noticed me flying. I’ve been hovering like a harrier jet for the past 31 years. I don’t even touch my yeti-leather furniture, or the seat of my cold fusion rocket cycle. Heck, my back hasn’t touched a mattress since Uncle Buck. My powerful psychic energy keeps me aloft like a Zeppelin while I sleep.
“Wow,” you’re probably saying, after rewatching the introductory segment of an episode of Wish Kid and realizing your mistake, “your formidable magick is on subtle but clear display. How did you learn this power, and is it possible to learn myself?” Unfortunately, I cannot divulge how I came upon this incredible ability for fear that it would fall into the wrong hands, specifically Seth Green’s. But I can say that the power lies within each and every one of you—you need only but reach within yourself, and also pay a subterranean warlock $500,000 in soul rubies.
Well friends, I can hear the howling of a gremlin caught in a bola snare, which means it’s time to wrap things up. Keep sending me your questions on Twitter @IncredibleCulk with the hashtag #AskMack, or leave them here in the comments. Once they dislodge the jet ski handlebars from my assistant’s skull and he regains the power of speech, there’s an excellent chance that the next piece of water sports equipment I crash into him will be to respond to you.
This answer was shouted down a windowless stone hallway in a wing of my estate that I forgot even existed. Echoes memorized and transcribed by Tom Reimann.
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