MENSA called. They said you're dumb.

My wife gave me a MENSA day-by-day calendar to take to work. Each day there is a little puzzle, presumably of MENSA-level difficulty, that you must attempt to solve. Most of the time the puzzles are less than challenging. I feel like someone has handed me a plastic bat and is lobbing whiffle balls sloooowly at me. When I hit one, they jump and clap and tell me how great I am. I suspect that MENSA has played a cruel joke on us.

From within their lounges heavy with pipe smoke, they rubbed their chins thoughtfully. "We need money," declared one. There was the hushed sound of courderoy jackets rubbing upholstery as various members squirmed in their deep chairs and rubbed more fitfully at their chins in response to the assertion. "If we create a product that allows us to ridicule the everyman while simultaneously making him feel intelligent I believe we can achieve our monetary goals while implicitly maintaining our inherent superiority." Nods and mumbles of agreement through pipe stems filled the room.

I suspect the day-by-day MENSA Puzzle Calendar is the fruit of this plan. While I do, in fact, feel intelligent when I solve the day's puzzle in only a few seconds, there's always this nagging feeling that someone at MENSA is playing a cruel joke on me. And laughing.