Enough With Pi Day, You Massive Nerds

Measure as many circles as you want, but I never need to hear about it again.
Enough With Pi Day, You Massive Nerds

To the nerds: you’ve officially won. The richest men in the world all know what IRC is. They’re making blockbuster movie and tv series about tangential-at-best superheroes like Moon Knight. My mom is sending me Baby Yoda pictures. Hell, even in sports, every NFL team worth its salt now hires the adult version of Martin Prince to do analytics from the sideline.

I accept these things. STEM has taken over, and I wish it the best as I sit in the wasteland, trying to shield my eyes from the dust with my crinkled Bachelor of Fine Arts degree. Yet, even as I toil in the fields in order to pay my royal tithe to the App Kings, every year on March 14, I must have one final indignity shoved down my throat.

Martin Prince from the Simpsons

The Simpsons

But Ms. Krabappel, wouldn't it make more sense to attempt a 2 point conversion, given my calculations?

Enough. Enough tweets, enough reddit posts of a crust pi symbol baked onto a cobbler. Even among made-up social media holidays, Pi day fills me with a unique sense of dread. March 14th heralds the arrival of an insufferable parade of “My Good Sirs”, like an internet SantaCon that replaces red and white suits with Doctor Who Funko Pops. You and your replica lightsaber that costs more than my television, I ask you simply to leave me alone.

I understand how important Pi is. I understand that it was necessary for us to figure out how big the moon is or whatever. I get that it’s something to memorize for people who don’t want to bring a Rubik’s cube out to solve at parties. But as someone who still has anxiety dreams about failing math class, I consider its further celebration both a victory lap and a direct attack.

I submit, poindexter. The world is yours. I say uncle. You can wear a Batman shirt to meetings now. It’s fine. You’re too big, and too far away from lockers, to be shoved inside them. The threat is over. All I request is that you remove your foot from my throat by forcing me to acknowledge the most trivial of numerical coincidences. And if one of you ever mentions Pi to me again, I’m going to ask, with nothing but chaos in mind, “why don’t we just round it down to 3?”

Top Image: Pixabay

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