Random self-aggrandizing karate master analogy of the day

Thought from a day spent sick in bed with something that is not malaria (I got tested! It was negative! I'm using exclamation points because it is utterly shocking to me that I wasn't diagnosed with malaria at our local clinic despite the negative test--they tend to ignore trivial evidence like these so-called "blood tests", and usually default to that diagnosis for anyone who comes in with a body temperature a breath above normal, regardless of the other symptoms: "Hmmm...your x-rays show that your mild wrist pain is probably a fracture...but I'm going to go with 'malaria' on this one." Also I am happy that I do not have malaria, which is another reason. For the exclamation points.). Anyway, thought:

There are a lot of mosquitoes here. Like, a lot a lot. I don't particularly like mosquitoes, so I have been known to playfully snap at those that come buzzing within my range. I get a lot of practice. Like, A LOT a lot. At this point, I am basically the Mr. Miyagi of mosquito catching (I will also begrudgingly accept the title "Mr. Han of mosquito catching" from all you new-school, Jackie-Chan-loving types, but I won't be happy about it). I don't even need those wimpy chopsticks, I catch those suckers with just my index finger and thumb. Which is really gross once you get mosquito guts all over your hand, but Hollywood tells me that this ability to kill small flying insects is somehow extremely significant in my development as a human being and as a master fighting machine. With this new status, I have immediately set Mac to work on mindlessly repetitive home improvement projects in hopes that his newfound muscle memory will give him the skill and confidence to overcome his fears in a tournament-style showdown, culminating in a dramatic battle against the leader of the evil frog dojo. More on this story as it unfolds.