There are only two kinds of people in the world

I was watching Vir Das: Fool Volume on Netflix the other night, hilarious, and in the middle of all the jokes, he drops this line:

“There are only two kinds of people in the world, assholes, and people who deal with assholes.”

I laughed, then paused, then rewound, then just sat there staring at the screen like... that’s uncomfortably accurate.

If I’m being honest, I’ve been the first kind. I used to be the asshole. Not because I wanted to hurt anyone or be toxic or whatever, but I thought being blunt, quick, and always “right” meant I was being smart. I thought I was being efficient, but looking back, I was just being difficult, impatient, sharp in all the wrong ways.

But life has a way of softening your edges. It throws people in your path who don’t react, don’t fight, don’t get rattled. People who don’t play the game. They just smile, say what needs to be said, and get on with it, while you’re still fuming in the corner. That’s when I realized the real power isn’t in being loud or fast. It’s in knowing how to deal with people who are, you know...

Over time, I changed. I started learning how to handle the first kind instead of being one. I became more patient, more grounded, less reactive, and honestly, life got a bit easier, less drama, better relationships, fewer mental spirals at night.

But, and this is important, every once in a while, someone shows up who’s not just your regular everyday asshole, they’re a moronic asshole, and when that happens, I feel the old me creeping in. The version of me that doesn’t want to breathe and count to ten. The one who wants to go straight to war. So yeah, I slip, I lose it, I go back to square one.

And maybe that’s just how it is. Maybe we don’t permanently become the second kind of person. Maybe we just try to spend more time there than we used to, because at the end of the day, growth isn’t linear. You don’t magically become a better person and stay there forever. You evolve, you relapse, you reflect, and you try again.

So yeah, maybe Vir Das is right, but maybe it’s not black and white. Maybe most of us are just trying to spend less time being the asshole and more time figuring out how to deal with them, even when one of them is us.

The Iceman: A GOAT Without Multiple Titles

When people talk about the greatest Formula 1 drivers of all time, names like Senna, Fangio, Lauda, Prost, Schumacher, Hamilton, and Vettel always come up. And fair enough, their numbers speak for themselves. But for me, there’s another name that always deserves a seat at that table, even if his stats don’t scream “GOAT.”

That name is Kimi Räikkönen, the Iceman. Cool, calm, ridiculously fast, and criminally underrated.

On pure driving talent, Kimi could go toe-to-toe with any world champion. His car control, his feel for the road, and his ability to pull out unbelievable performances with minimal fuss made him one of a kind. And yes, he did win a title in 2007, but honestly, he deserved more.

Wrong Time, Wrong Team

A big part of why Kimi didn’t rack up more championships comes down to timing. He was at McLaren from 2002 to 2006, a period when the team had speed but couldn’t keep the car reliable. He could’ve easily been champion in 2003 or 2005 if the car hadn’t let him down so often. The raw pace was there. The wins were there. The titles slipped away.

Then came Ferrari. He won the championship in 2007 (still one of the tightest and most dramatic title wins ever), but the car began to decline afterward. By 2009, Ferrari wasn’t in the fight anymore.

Compare that to Schumacher, who helped build Ferrari into a winning machine, or Hamilton, who moved to Mercedes right before their era of dominance. Kimi never got that perfectly timed golden era. He always seemed one step behind the ideal team-car combo.

Not a Political Player, And That Cost Him

Kimi wasn’t interested in playing the political games that often come with being a lead driver in F1.
He didn’t fight to build a team around himself, didn’t engage in mind games, didn’t chase media love or internal favoritism. He just wanted to drive, and honestly, I love him for that.

But the truth is, F1 isn’t just about who’s fastest. It’s about influence. Schumacher, Hamilton, Vettel, they all knew how to influence a team, a strategy, a season. Kimi stayed out of it, and in this sport, that can cost you.

Passionate, But Not Obsessed

Let’s not ignore the mental side. After 2007, it felt like Kimi had achieved what he set out to do, and he never really chased more titles with the same hunger. He even left F1 entirely for a couple of years (2010–2011) to go rallying and have fun elsewhere.

That’s not a knock, it’s just Kimi. He raced because he loved racing. He didn’t care about records or becoming the face of a generation. He was a driver in the purest sense. But in a sport where obsession and legacy often go hand-in-hand, that put him on a different path.

The Sport Changed, Kimi Didn't

Kimi thrived in the era where driving was all about raw pace, tire feel, and instinct. But modern F1 became more complex, with energy recovery systems, fuel saving, team radio micromanagement, and endless tire strategy.

Drivers like Hamilton and Vettel embraced this. Kimi adapted, sure, but he never enjoyed that side of the sport. He wanted to race, not manage energy flows or be a co-engineer. And while he stayed competitive into his 40s, the F1 world slowly moved away from what he loved most.

Still a Legend, Just Not on Paper

Look, numbers matter in F1. But they don’t tell the whole story. Kimi Räikkönen was a world champion, a 21-time Grand Prix winner, and held the record for most race starts. But beyond all that, he was a rare character in a sport full of PR-polished personalities. Quiet. Honest. Deadpan. Fast.

In an era of media training and team politics, Kimi showed up, did his job, and walked away, often literally, mid-interview. And that’s why fans loved him. That’s why I loved him.

Final Thoughts

The Iceman didn’t need multiple titles to prove his greatness. He raced with heart, stayed true to himself, and gave us some of the most memorable moments in F1 history, without ever caring about the spotlight. That kind of authenticity is rare.

So yeah, maybe he’s not the most decorated. But in my book? He’s one of the greatest, no question.