You might not know this, but I'm kind of a big deal.
People know me. I own many leather-bound books and my apartment smells of rich mahogany.
People seem to like me because I am sometimes polite, and I am rarely late.
I enjoy ice cream and a nice pair of slacks. Years later, a doctor will tell me that I have an I.Q. of 48, and am what some people call mentally retarded.