It’s true. My career in education was a short one.

I was going to run a caption contest for the picture of Arizona Governor Jan Brewer planting a part of her anatomy in the airspace of Obama’s face, but then I realized that such a contest would be a pointless exercise. Why? Because, of course, there is one (and only one) right answer.

"Smell my finger!"

Yesterday morning I was listening to a little Christian radio on the way to work and they were all abuzz about this tarmac incident. Huh? What? Oh, yeah, I do occasionally listen to Christian radio. There are a couple of stations in the morning where they can sometimes be interesting enough to hold my interest. I pride myself on being open minded.

I hate commercials. I call them persuasion attempts. And we are literally hit with thousands of them every single day. Your consciousness can’t suffer an onslaught like that without taking some damage. So I have trained myself to resist. It does require no small degree of mindfulness. If I’m listening to the radio in the car and a commercial starts, my finger wails on the SCAN button and doesn’t stop until it finds something halfway interesting that is not a commercial. I end up never lingering on a station for, at most, more than a few minutes. Sometimes I end up on a Christian station (around here there are plenty) and hear something interesting.

So, like I was saying, the guy on the radio was abuzz about this Obama and Brewer incident. It went down a little something like this:

See? Obama is disinterested in immigration. Brewer invited him to the border and … he didn’t go. Obama doesn’t care about what is happening at the border.

–Some radio guy (paraphrased from memory)

My problem? That is patently false logic. And there’s been a lot of that going around these days. I’m no expert on logic, it wasn’t taught at my high school, just like it probably wasn’t taught at your high school, either. Instead my high school liked to focus on things like making lamps out of a block of wood, automotive repair, balancing a checkbook, baking chocolate chip cookies and sewing your own apron for the kitchen. You know, all of the important stuff you need to know for living an inspired life.

The logic espoused by the guy on the radio is essentially this. Issue an invitation to someone regarding XYZ. If they don’t immediately do as you request that proves they are against XYZ.

It sounds great on the radio and I’m sure the loyal listeners are nodding along saying, “Yeah, that’s right!” But it’s totally false logic. It might be true that Obama is disinterested about immigration, but his failure to accept an invitation is not the same as proof that it is true.

This is the same sort of damn logic that the birthers employed. “I say you are XYZ. You then have to prove you’re not otherwise it must be true.” I know they don’t teach logic in most high schools but, even so, it’s hard to understand how grown functioning adults believe in such utter falseness. It truly boggles the mind.

And, I think, it’s sad that most of us are whizzing through our lives, never really paying attention, never thinking critically, accepting what we are told, because we’re too busy running to the store to buy the next incremental version of some small electronic device that was made by exploited people. Which reminds me of a discussion I had with some folks yesterday.

It’s been a big question in the news lately: Should Americans care about the working conditions and plights of the people who make the iPhone? (I have blogged about Foxconn, the company in China that produces iPhones and other gadgets.) Workers at Foxconn recently won concessions from the company after threatening mass suicide. That is an interesting negotiating tactic. And an effective one for people who are desperate and mistreated enough. For some reason, all of the sudden, now the issue is big news for it’s 15 minutes of rotation before we all become disinterested and move on to something else.

One person was saying, “I like a lot of what Obama said in his State of the Union speech. It might only be lip service but at least he’s talking about bringing jobs back into our country.”

The blowhard douchebag in the room rebutted, though, saying: “If Apple had Americans make the iPhone then the price point would be higher. Americans don’t like to pay a lot of money.” The dude is a huge Apple fanboy. The rest of his reasoning was implied: “Therefore, it doesn’t matter what happens to people in some other country as long as Americans get the stupid shit they want at a cheap price.”

Speaking of cheap, that’s what seems to pass for impeccable American logic these days. It’s almost like logic is something that should be taught in our schools.

I just reread this post and it sure meanders. I apologize. That’s just how my brain happens to work. Quite illogical.

“Don’t be evil” is the informal corporate motto (or slogan) of Google, originally suggested by Google employees Paul Buchheit and Amit Patel at a meeting. Buchheit, the creator of Gmail, said he “wanted something that, once you put it in there, would be hard to take out,” adding that the slogan was “also a bit of a jab at a lot of the other companies, especially our competitors, who at the time, in our opinion, were kind of exploiting the users to some extent.” While the official corporate philosophy of Google does not contain the words “Don’t be evil”, they were included in the prospectus (aka “S-1″) of Google’s 2004 IPO (a letter from Google’s founders, later called the “‘Don’t Be Evil’ manifesto”): “Don’t be evil. We believe strongly that in the long term, we will be better served — as shareholders and in all other ways — by a company that does good things for the world even if we forgo some short term gains.” The sixth point of the 10-point corporate philosophy of Google says “You can make money without doing evil.” The motto is sometimes incorrectly stated as Do no evil.

“Don’t be evil” is said to recognize that large corporations often maximize short-term profits with actions that may not be in the best interests of the public. Supposedly, by instilling a Don’t Be Evil culture, the corporation establishes a baseline for honest decision-making that disassociates Google from any and all cheating. This in turn can enhance the trust and image of the corporation, which may outweigh short-term gains from violating the Don’t Be Evil principles.

While many companies have ethical codes to govern their conduct, Google claims to have made “Don’t Be Evil” a central pillar of their identity, and part of their self-proclaimed core values.

Criticism of Google often includes a reference to “Don’t be evil”.

Source: Wikipedia

What Wikipedia won’t – can’t – tell you is that this famous informal corporate motto was actually intended as a cruel mind fuck. It’s true, even though a Google search won’t provide a shred of evidence. Suspicious? I think so!

Their actual motto is a little more mundane. (And greedy.) It reads: If you can do a thing then you should.

The sky’s the limit!

It’s easy to be flippant and make altruistic sounding phrases part of your business when you small and just starting out. But what happens when you get big? Really big? Like a “one followed by a hundred zeros” big? It must just becomes slightly more difficult to leave the big money on the table, eh?

Google has increased is size slightly since the heady days of yesteryear after being founded by two nerdy “super virgins.” (That status is no longer maintained since money changes everything.)

We all know that Google updated their privacy policies recently. The change may seem complicated which is why I’m here to help. I ran the revised policy through the translator. This is what I got back: “We’re going to do what we want.”

Think of it! The possibilities for improving our lives are endless:

• You apply for a job. You’re surprised that the prospective employee refused your resume? They’re using Google’s new Life Transcribed feature. They’ve got a printout of everything you’ve ever said since you were three years old and received your first iPad as a present. Oops. You didn’t actually want to be employed in this modern society, did you?
• It is the model of convenience as your ex’s cell phone beeps with Google’s Stalker Alert Email Notifications. Google just let them know that you’re in a bar around the corner. Get ready to say hello to an old friend. The motto for this service? “You don’t have to thank us.”
• Insurance companies will get unprecedented access to more information about you, which they will then promptly use to deem you an increased “risk” to justify rate increases. You spend $100 a month on Farmville? Actuary tables say that makes you four times as likely to get into a fender bender. Don’t like it? Too bad. It’s the law and our data can’t be wrong.
• Google’s Secure Workplace product will alert employers to “suspicious” activity on the part of their employees. What did your employee say in email? Chat? On their so-called “secret” blog? Employees have rights, of course, which is why they’ll have to “opt-in” (hahahaha!) as a condition of employment. No opt-in? No job! That preserves the rights of everyone. After all, you have no right to complain if you agreed to it voluntarily. You have the right to be unemployed. You have the right to be homeless. (Soon to be taxed.) You have the right to go hungry. You have the right to die of scurvy, an old-time mariner disease about to make a thrilling resurgence. Take that, vitamin C!
• The divorce rate will skyrocket after Google introduces their new Till Data Do Us Part service, which will allow curious spouses to get email alerts of web history searches. Finally, you’ll get to know that your partner has been looking for. This won’t help the institution of marriage very much.
• Can you even begin to imagine how thankful you’ll feel when you are vacationing and Google’s Location Services notifies you that, based on your current GPS coordinates, there is no way in hell you’ll be able to physically make it in time for that forgotten meeting in the next hour? That is useful information! It’s too late and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it now, but Google will be there to let you know. Google Pedestrian will automatically show you the best route to take that will increase your odds of being run over by a car. Or Google Maps showing the best way to get trapped in the snow on a secluded mountain road.

Yes, endless possibilities for improving our lives. And, of course, imagine all of those services (and more) with context-based advertisements to enrich our lives.

What other bountiful benefits can you imagine from the cornucopia known as Google? How will your life be enriched?

A couple of weeks ago Yahoo! got a new CEO. He can earn up to $26 million in 2012 in cash, stock and bonuses.

This is an FYI: I’m available to do the job for less. Ah, shit. I can probably take as little at $500k and fuck the stock options and bonuses. I bring a wide array of skills to the table and I work lean and mean.

And I can use words like: synergy, win-win, “I got this,” blazin’, meggy, modernization, crowdsourcing, “low-hanging fruit” and social media. Oh, also: array and “lean and mean.”

I also have lots of ideas. Here’s a freebie to give you a wee taste: Don’t spend $26 million a year on a new hire.

Yahoo!, I await. Have your people call my people and we’ll do lunch.

Click to enlarge

Congratulations, everybody! We’re officially half-way through the Sweet 16. I guess that explains why I’m draggin’ and feel dead on my feet.

Yeah, a pun about dying. You know this shit is fun.

Last week was a squeaker with Electrocution giving Hypothermia the cold shoulder. I’d say it was shocking, but that would be one pun too many.

This week features a gonzo marquee match-up. Therefore our advertising rates have tripled. This is the one most of you have been waiting for. Even the bookies in Las Vegas are refusing to issue odds – and that’s sacrilege! Yep, sitting this one out is a clear sign this will be a fierce contest. Or maybe they just had too much meat at the city-wide 24-hour all-you-can-eat buffet?

Bear Attack vs Airplane Crash. Wow. It doesn’t get any better than this. Which is worse? Being a crunchy amuse bouche snack attack tartare for a playful ursus americanus? Or riding that roller coaster all the way down, helpless, completely out of control, often with plenty of time (measured in minutes) to know full well what is heading your way? (Usually the ground but sometimes the ocean.)

Yes, I think this one should be good. For bonus points try to think about getting rich on pornography or cheating on your wife during the act of voting. I hear tell that makes it much more fun!

If I designed that sign I wouldn't have split "apologize" and I would have put a space in "thank you." That's why I'm worth the big bucks.

Ah. What a dilemma. What to get the employee who has nothing?

It was mid-2011 and my wife’s employer had already announced there wouldn’t be any Christmas bonuses. A few key people were laid off and replaced with fresher and more inexpensive ones. (Good management is hard to miss.)

And yet, when Christmas rolled around, management had one more surprise up their sleeve. Yes, Virginia, there is a Christmas bonus, although, in this case, interpretation of the word “bonus” can be a wee bit tricky.

It was a little something that made my $50 Walmart gift card look like a gift from the Gods.

Can you even guess what her “bonus” might be? Close your eyes and try to imagine it before reading further.

My wife’s Christmas bonus was a book. On the front it proudly proclaimed that it would help you save thousands of dollars.

Yes, it was a coupon book.

The back of the book even contained one of my favorite phrases of all time. “It’s a win-win for all.” Isn’t it sad when your employer has a low opinion of themselves? I mean, don’t try to shield us from the glory of your magnificence or anything. It’s a gift. Be sure to tell us how you shine with awesomeness!

Even I had never heard of such a thing. I was impressed. They had managed to make a $50 gift card to Walmart actually looks good. I knew that took no small amount of skill.

I leafed through the book. It offered discounts on hearing aids, the gym, a sewing and quilting center, Segways (I shit you not), dog grooming, a local motel (when you want to get away from it all), a bucket of “range balls” at the golf course, window tinting, a fucking tanning salon, and, of course, a few restaurants.

I was impressed. They knew us better than I had ever guessed. They knew us enough to offer very little that we actually desired. Well played!

Out of curiosity, I grabbed a coupon for a restaurant we actually liked and checked out the fine print. It offered a whopping $5 off. Holy shit! Five whole dollars? Wowie! By Grabthar’s Hammer – wow, what a savings!

Nay, they opted to stay away from traditional savings like, “Buy one dinner and get another of equal or less value – FREE.” Something like that would be dangerously close to having actual value. Or even the eminently lame, “Buy one meal and get the second half price.” Which, in my neck of the woods, we call a 25% discount. It still works dramatically on the weak-minded.

Let us break down this coupon, shall we? As always, they seem confused by the word “any.”

• $5 off any purchase (but only on purchases of $25 or more). Thank God they added “or more.” Otherwise our options for savings would be extremely limited. It’s hard to spend exactly $25.
• Good only on Monday through Thursday. Oh yes, our Christmas bonus shouldn’t include the days we normally like to go out. We are only worthy enough for the “off” days.
• Good only “4 p.m. to close.” Good gravy, they even want to dictate the hours we can eat. Control freaks.
• Not valid on alcoholic beverages. Shit. There goes my reason to live.
• Not valid on to-go orders. I honestly can’t figure this one out. Why in the name of Zeus’ butthole would they actually want to increase the length of time I’ll be in their business? They must have a death wish.
• Coupon cannot be combined with any other offer. Now they’re just repeating shit they’ve heard elsewhere. Fools.
• And, for the finale, there’s an expiration date one year hence. Better get on enjoying your gift. Don’t delay or it’s worth nothing, sucka!

Now, for the record, I wish to officially state I am expanding my New Year’s resolutions to a total of two. Like my hero, Don Quixote, I am on a quest. My quest is to find another Christmas present that comes with as many restrictions at this coupon book.

Be of good cheer! If I complete this quest you’ll all be getting a gift from yours truly. Wish me luck!

Close-up view of Pete's colon. Tagline: Just when you thought a colon would stop at 41 pounds of processed meat...

What happened in Vegas didn’t stay in Vegas. It got pooped out in my home town…

I know this guy. And no, just this once, that isn’t code for talking about myself. Let us call him Pete.

He wakes up in the morning, rolls out of bed, and deems himself ready to take on the day. He doesn’t shower or comb his hair. I imagine he dresses himself in the dark. He slips his Crocs on his Fred Flinstone bare feet and slinks (as quietly as he is able) out of his bedroom at four in the morning lest he disturb his wife and be forced to interact with her.

I like wrinkles as much as the next man. I often refer to them as “the new cool.” But, as part of an entire ensemble, wrinkles can be the coup de grâce to put the proper finish on a very distinct look. Unkempt, unclean, unshaven and under-dressed.

That look that is so effective, people have asked me, “Does that guy bathe himself?” And that’s the look he cultivates for the world of business.

Two other things about this guy: He loves to eat and he loves a good value. (A word I now loathe to the Nth degree.)

If you ask him for his opinion on restaurants, he’ll tell you about the quantity of food they serve and neglect to say anything about other considerations. Things like, “Did it taste good?”

He’s a true connoisseur.

Maybe he has a background at McDonald’s. If you pay close attention, you’ll notice that their flagship product is called the Big Mac. It is decidedly not called the Good Mac. You might have never noticed this, and I’m here to tell you, this is completely by design. In the world of consumption it is better to be big than good.

Oh, the Mac, babe, has such beef, dear
And it’s plenty for many noshy bites
It’s a good time for the fake tast – dinner
At McDonald’s, it’s Mac tonight!

So this businessman had to go to Las Vegas. When he got back, I asked him how it was, and, did he have any fun? He doesn’t drink or gamble (what a waste) but I thought maybe he’d mention something about roller coasters or fighting the Borg or indoor skydiving or the arcade or going inside the world’s largest bottle of Coca-Cola or even seeing one-trillion M&M’s all in the same place. (They’ll even fill a swimming pool with them and let you take a dip.) Yes, there’s a LOT to do in Las Vegas.

He responded by telling me about the 24-hour all-you-can-eat buffet.

A buffet!!!

His hotel offered this deal on the buffet. For only $50 it was all you could eat for a 24-hour window. And it was good at various locations around town. The clock started ticking with the initial purchase, he said, and he went on to explain his strategy. (Doesn’t every good meal require a plan of attack?)

The trick, he said was to go around nine o’clock at night for a “late dinner.” Then you could have breakfast the next morning, lunch, and another dinner before time expired. That’s a whopping four meals if you have stratergized correctly. And that doesn’t include second breakfast (Hobbit style!) and a couple of quick trips for snacks.

But wait, that’s not all.

At the buffet he ate nothing but meat. He regaled me with tales of prime rib, chicken, ribs, pork, bacon, roasted turkey and on and on and on. Naively I asked, “Did you ever go back for seconds?” Oh yes, he exclaimed! He knocked back as much as he could.

I could swear he looked more leathery upon his return.

After telling me all about how much he had eaten, it occurred to me. He hadn’t said a single word about how good any of it was.

Weirdly enough, his visit was actually documented in Wikipedia:

Meanwhile, after seeing a television advertisement about “The Frying Dutchman”‘s all you can eat offer, Homer insists that Marge come dine with him, so he arranges for Laura to babysit Bart and Lisa in his and Marge’s absence. After being served by the Sea Captain, Homer eats an excessive amount of food and is thrown out. He sues the restaurant for deceptive advertisement. Lionel Hutz is employed by him to represent him in court, and the Sea Captain and Homer eventually agree that Homer shall be displayed in the restaurant as “Bottomless Pete: Nature’s Cruelest Mistake.”

Source: Wikipedia

Then he began talking about the value.

This is when I checked out of the conversation and my brain began to run hog wild.

First, I invented a new diet. It’s called the All Meat Raw Foods Diet. I guarantee that it will kill you within seven days or your money back!

Next, I realized that Las Vegas was partially on to something here. The 24-hour all-you-can-eat buffet is a good start, but there’s so much more they could do. It’s not like Las Vegas to do something half-assed. (Even though that half-ass would belong to a naked skank.)

What they really need to do is expand the network of participating locations around the strip so that no visitor will ever have to waddle more than half a block to the nearest trough. Next, they need to offer a yearly pass. 24-hours is child’s play. $50 times 365 days is $18,250. They could offer a ten percent “volume” discount and mark it down to $16,425. Now that’s a bargain truly worthy of Las Vegas.

The yearly all-you-can-eat buffet would make Las Vegas the equivalent of the largest land-locked luxury cruise ship in the world – only without the horny captain running around killing passengers. (It has been reported that Captain Schettino’s dinner companion on the night of the crash was on the first lifeboat off the ship and with all of her belongings, implying that she was given advance notice before the abandon ship call went out to other passengers.)

Then I thought about nutrition. I’m no dietary expert but a diet that consists of “eat five pounds of meat per sitting” can’t make much sense, can it? Just how far can the “at least they’re not carbs” thing be taken? Seriously!

And, almost finally, some thoughts about value. Obviously the “value” is directly proportional to the variables “price” and “quantity eaten.” To get more value, one must eat more meat!

Remember: Do not be diverted by anything “not meat.” Your tummy must have a single-minded determination to function at optimum efficiency for this challenge! Always remember: You are an American!!!

I worked it out a little something like this:

• Price: $50. Meat consumed in 24 hours: 1/2 pound. Result: You fucking suck! That’s a unit price of $100 per pound! Go back home you goddamned vegetarian!
• Price: $50. Meat consumed in 24 hours: 1 pound. Result: I guarantee you that meat wasn’t delicious enough for $50 a pound. Not that taste matters. Fail.
• Price: $50. Meat consumed in 24 hours: 5 pounds. Result: Now we’re getting somewhere. Five pounds is respectable, but that’s still paying $10 a pound. Bear down (figure of speech) and try harder.
• Price: $50. Meat consumed in 24 hours: 10 pounds. Result: You probably use a Slim Jim as a toothpick. You’re a-okay in my book. $5 per pound is an awesome value.
• Price: $50. Meat consumed in 24 hours: 20 pounds. Result: Congratulations! Gun nuts can now legally hunt you(as long as they have the correct license. Otherwise it is considered “poaching.” At only $2.50 per pound, you have successfully found and obtained the only “sure thing” in the den of iniquity known as Las Vegas. Homer Simpson himself bows down to you.

Oh, yeah. My final thought? I know, I know. I almost forgot. Thanks for reminding me. Remember, you asked for this…

Pete came back from Las Vegas with 42 pounds of extra “baggage” in his lower intestine. That’s baggage dumped into my fine city’s sewer treatment system. That’s a lot of added load. Personally I think Las Vegas owes my town a check to offset those operating costs.

And that’s how we do a poop post here in the Abyss! In yo face!

Choose to drive on public roads and you have to trust in her ability to multitask.

I love finding new internet things. I never cease to be amazed.

The Nigerian scams that try to trick you into sending money to collect a big prize? Internet to the rescue. A new form of entertainment is born called “scambaiting” where would-be victims turn the tables on the evil motherfuckers.

Scam baiting is a form of Internet vigilantism, where the vigilante poses as a potential victim to the scammer in order to waste their time and resources, gather information that will be of use to authorities, and publicly expose the scammer. It is, in essence, a form of social engineering that may have an altruistic motive or may be motivated by malice. It is primarily used to thwart the Advance-fee fraud scam and can be done out of a sense of civic duty, as a form of amusement, or both.

Source: Wikipedia

OMG! LOLZ! Sometimes I fucking love you, internets. Brilliant!

At the office, we get asshole marketing calls all the freakin’ time. Most turn out to be search engines and credit card processing companies. One of the latter is really bad. They get their jollies off by calling us every day. They act nice up front but as soon as you ask them for the umpteenth time to be taken off their call list, they get really nasty. They’ll snarl and hang up on you.

I get it. I hate my job, too.

The idiocy of this is mind-bogging, though. You think they’d like to make their operation more efficient by trimming their lists of people who hate their guts. Instead they call us every single day. Maybe this is a method of attempted provoking of suicide. Good thing I don’t keep a gun in my desk.

Internets to the rescue.

I googled their phone number and found one of those “who called us” pages. Suddenly the irritating becomes hilarious. One commenter said, “They threatened to kill my employee.”

I guess that would be a sale that got away, eh? Hahaha!

And then came the comments about people who, driven to the brink of madness, decided to fight back. They feigned interest in the product, scheduled appointments, and then, when someone had the audacity to actually show up, they pointed and laughed at them. It almost gives me hope for the human race. So good!

This post is, of course, about none of that stuff. This post is about The Reverse Untrendy. Nice segue, eh?

Before writing a single word, I worked on the important part first. I went to Flickr and did a search for the word “trendy.” Sometimes the results from that sort of thing will provide a little boost of inspiration and add a bit of unexpected spice to my writing. It can take me places I didn’t originally intend to go.

Not so much this time, but it did eventually lead me to the image above, which I liked so much it gets included whether it really fits or not. It’s my blog. I make the rules. (Where else can I say that in this life?) So eat it.

Naturally this all led to the discovery of another one of those internet things. This time, it’s people taking pictures of people talking on phones while driving and posting them to the net. Wow, how much fun is that? For me it was love at first byte.

Sometimes it even goes beyond that. It can get a little proactive, I guess. Like writing on someone’s back window, “U cell phone drivers – Get a Life!” and posting a picture of that to the internet, too.

I deem that to be healthy vigilantism. And to think I used to settle for hockin’ a loogie and walking away. So much wasted opportunity.

Now I can’t help but wonder what else I’m missing. What other bits of internet goodness are out there just waiting for me to discover them? The journey awaits!

My topic seems lame and boring after all that setup (which it is) but here goes.

This week I caught myself doing the exact opposite of what I wanted. I realized what was going on and immediately dubbed it The Reverse Untrendy. Here’s how it works.

I could give a flying damn about what anyone thinks. I proactively put effort into being the opposite of trendy. That’s how I roll. I even have memories as far back as high school of accusing my friend on the football team of doing things for the sole purpose of being trendy. Things like his cowboy hat with the feather band (that often needed blocking), his sunglasses, the certain kind of jeans he had to wear, etc. We chose to disagree about such things. The point is, I’ve obviously been feeling this way for a long time. Trendiness offends me.

How far can you take this?

Sometimes I end up parked next to the boss in the parking lot. He always backs in. And not very well, either. Sometimes he ends up on the curb. He just shrugs and leaves it sloppy, like he does with everything in his life.

I prefer to back in, too. One of my shit duties is taking packages to the post office after the post office is closed because rules and deadlines don’t apply to the boss. And I prefer to load the packages from the driver’s side of the car so I can unload them the same way. So it makes sense for me to back in, too, so I can easily get to the driver’s side.

If I do this, though, both of our cars end up side by side and both backed in.

I was about to do this the other day, when a thought crossed my brain. I pulled away, turned my car around, and pulled in front first, even though this is the exact opposite of what I wanted.

Even though I normally don’t give a holy damn what people think, this time I suddenly cared. I didn’t want anyone to think I was emulating that asshole. Someone might think I was aping him out of some feeling of respect. And I can’t have that.

Doing the opposite of what you want just so people won’t think something untrue about you? I call that The Reverse Untrendy. At my current level of development, that’s what makes the most sense for me. I’d rather die than having anyone thinking I look up to that asshole.

Can you figure out a way to apply The Reverse Untrendy to your own life? Give it a try and let me know how it goes! I’m here to help.

When that freak little magical being showed up and offered to grant me one wish, I did what anyone would do. I became suspicious and kicked him in the nards. No one can really grant wishes, right? So he/she/it must have been a liar.

In the past, I always stated with supreme confidence that if I was granted one wish it would be the ability to read the thoughts of other people. I always followed that up with a bold prediction: With that particular power, and within 30 days, I would become Supreme Ruler and Potentate of the Taker Planet. (Earth would be renamed by my decree.)

Yes, that power would make me just that invincible.

Sure, invisibility is always a strong contender for the one wish thingy, but in the end, I’m a heavy breather and I think it would be a waste of a power. Besides, what can you really hope to gain from watching strangers have lots of sex?

Recently, though, a new idea has been brewing. Just in case I ever get offered a wish, I need to be prepared, so I give this a lot of thought. If and when the time comes you need to be ready.

If you asked me today, without a doubt, my answer would be this. “I want video cameras implanted in my eyeballs.”

Seriously.

Oh, the shit these eyes have seen. Just for fun and jollies I’d like to be able replay the things that happen in front of my eyes. And maybe, just maybe, for once the world won’t think I’m totally batshit* crazy.

I’m just a (partially) normal guy, sadly going about his daily life, trying to find the will to fight for the urge to survive. Yet the things these eyes see on a daily basis would be rejected by Hollywood as “unrealistic” and “too far-fetched.”

If I had the video eyes then I could prove it. And that would be even better than knowledge is power or the voyeuristic sex watching thing. (Just to make sure there’s no misunderstanding I’m talking about invisibility. Don’t make this dirty.)

Here’s the smallest possible example I can think of that happened recently. I got off work. I drove in my car. It’s about one block to the stop sign and one more block to the traffic light. I hadn’t even gone that far before the wacky shit happened and I wished I was a DVR.

A car was approaching from the other direction and swerving erratically. I barely had time to think, “Yeah, I’m a drunk driver magnet,” before it happened. Even though I was only a few car lengths away, the car swerved to the side of the road then turned right in front of me. The fucker was lost and had decided to execute a U-turn, other drivers be damned.

Of course, the idiot didn’t have enough room and ended up at a complete stop and pointed right at the sidewalk. I, of course, decided there was no way in Hell that I would slow down. Stranger and I were on a collision course, sink or swim. We’d either both survive or end up roommates for all eternity in the fiery pits. I was rather calm and detached about the whole thing. I really didn’t have much preference about which way it went.

It was only the fact of my genetically superior intellect (and reflexes) that allowed us to survive. Without slowing down I adjusted my trajectory just enough to whizz by as the idiot struggled to comprehend, “U-turn no worky.”

And that’s when I realized, once again, that I wanted my sockets blasted clean to make way for Geordi’s visor. Dammit.

*Batshit. The gold standard of crazy. Accept no substitutes.

It was a fine beautiful day in the Colonies as Thomas Jefferson strode purposefully to his neighbor’s house, a fine upstanding gentleman by the name of George Washington.

Stopping at the gate, Thomas chuckled as he often did at the signs George had posted. “Trespassers will be musketed” and “We don’t lamp for the Constable.” He let himself in the gate and found his friend near the porch, apparently taking a break from afternoon chores.

“Hey, ho, George,” Thomas said. “How goes the marijuana farm?”

George paused to wipe sweat from his brow. “Not too bad. It should be a good crop.”

“Say, have you thought about how you’re going to explain that particular peccadillo for the history books?”

“My plan is to say I did it for the hemp.”

Both men shared a hearty laugh.

“So, Tommy, how goes things with that slave girl?”

“Never better,” Thomas said with a wink.

With the preliminary idle chatter out of the way, it was time for the men to get down to business. “What can I do for you today, Tom?” asked George.

Thomas nodded at the porch and the partially assembled rocking chair. “I find myself in need of one of your chairs, preferably whittled by your own hands out of cherry wood.”

George thoughtfully stroked his chin. “I see,” he said at last. “The usual?”

“Yes. A measure of butter from my own larder, and ‘churned’ by yours truly. And yes, those are air quotes.” They shared another laugh.

George stuck out his hand and Thomas fiercely clasped it in his bear grip.

“Done!”

“Done!”

Just then there was a commotion. “Wait!” cried Benjamin Franklin rushing urgently up the walk.

“What the devil is it now, Ben,” asked George impatiently with exasperation. “This isn’t more of that flatulence nonsense, is it?”

“No, no, heavens no. This is important. I just invented money!”

George and Thomas both paused. This did sound like something important. They allowed a few minutes for Ben to catch his breath, who then launched into his spiel.

“You just completed a trade,” he explained, “and that’s great. If you both happen to want what the other person has.” The men shared a quizzical look.

“What if,” Ben asked, “you each didn’t have something the other wanted? What then?”

“What then?” repeated George. “Then we wouldn’t trade, you damn fool!”

“But what if there was a way you still could? What if you could do business without having exactly what was needed at this particular moment in time?”

The men had never imagined such a thing, but they listened as Ben explained how a currency system might work.

“And, here’s the rub,” he continued. “Once I get you guys to believe in the value of money, you’ll willingly give up your chairs, and yes, your butter, Tom, in exchange for little bits of paper that I shall have printed at once! Of course, I’ll keep a portion for myself, a trifle of a fee for my part in the bargain, for arranging this convenience on your behalf.”

And thus the concept of a financial instrument had come to pass. (And, for historical accuracy, let us imagine that, perhaps, Benjamin may not have been the very first person to come up with the idea.) And with this wonderful invention a method suddenly existed for third-parties who added absolutely nothing of value to become rich in the style they so desperately wanted to become accustomed to.

Without financial instruments where would bankers be? In the poor house, I dare say!

And, if you’ll allow me to extrapolate just a bit further in honor of today’s SOPA protests, imagine the fatcat financiers who run Hollywood and the RIAA. What do these dudes bring to the table? Money. Do they write songs? Author compelling stories? Know how to work a microphone or a camera? Nope. Just like bankers they add little of value to the system while profiting from those who can actually create. And, besides from being wealthy beyond avarice and (presumably) power-hungry assholes, they are also greedy. They want more. To me, that’s the story of SOPA.

Money is that which makes it all possible.

Addendum: Yes, this is what a post without Wikipedia looks like. Be afraid. Be very afraid.