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I Think

Page 15


I think job hunting is an evil forced self-debasement of character. The job search involves putting together a resume, which is basically an ultra-condensed version of your life. How presumptuous for a company to consider such a thing when all the glorious details, the joyful nuances of personality that really make you who you are, are omitted? People have such short attention spans these days.


I have a fault line in my basement. Fortunately it runs through about four feet above ground, so when there's a quake along the fault line, nothing cracks open or falls down. There's just a bit of a breeze. I think we could save thousands of lives if we started fault line elevating projects, but do you think we will? Nooooo! An operation like that would cost millions, and our comfy tush politicians would rather pocket the money. I hate that.


You know, some city streets in this country are not safe. It's hard to believe, but street safety is not evenly spread throughout this country. I mean, New York City has tons of cops. The "NYPD," which are blue, are famous across the country for keeping the streets safe. Los Angeles has a police department with a reputation, too: the ever-reliable "LAPD," which can always be counted on to show up in an emergency and calm angry rioters. But take, for example, Miami. Who's ever heard of the MPD or the MIPD or whatever Miami's police department would be called if they had one? Yes, I'm pretty sure they don't even have a police force down there, because I've never heard of it. I've never been to Miami, but I know for a fact that all there is down there are drug smugglers open firing on each other on street corners pretty much all the time. I think Miami would be a bad place to live.


I'm glad I live in the northern hemisphere. Otherwise I'd never know when it's ok to eat cod. In the northern hemisphere, you can go by some handy rule about only eating cod in months with 'r' in it. Or 'y' or 'e' or something. You can't catch and eat them in the other months, because they have worms in them then. That rule doesn't work in the southerm hemisphere, with the seasons reversed and everything, so how do they know? I bet Australians and Argentinians and Antarcticans are constantly trying to eat cod, cutting into it, and saying, "Darn! I never remember when we can eat this stuff!" If I were cod, I think I would periodically migrate from one hemisphere to the other and fool everyone.


People are always down on office jobs, but I think it would be great to work in a Rubix Cubicle. You get to hang out in your own little cubicle, and except for it suddenly swiveling up on its side or even completely upside down, it would be comfortable, safe, and secure. Since the orientation of all the cubes would be constantly changing, annoying bosses and coworkers would have a hard time finding you. It becomes a game, you see, to move your cubicle around in such a way as to keep anyone with actual work away. But they're twisting their own cubicles around to try to get you, so it becomes a multiplayer game of strategy and fast reflexes. If they get to you, too bad, you have to do the work. But the reward for the best players is no work at all. As if that wouldn't be cool enough, you could have all kinds of subgames, like seeing who can get to a group meeting in the fastest time. With a set up like this, boredom at the workplace would be a thing of the past.


I think I'll open a restaurant that only serves food that is hard to eat. Then I'll spend the remainder of my days living in the apartment above it, looking through the one-way mirror that will serve as the restaurant's ceiling, and laughing at all the patrons. I'll serve peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but only with one slice of bread -- in the middle. And corn on the cob, but with two inches of the "cob" part scooped out of each end. And ice cream bars with no stick and no clean, chocolatey shell coating. And pizza with sauce and cheese on both sides of the crust. There won't be any silverware or napkins in the whole place. Also, the faucets in the bathrooms will spray water really hard in all directions. Some places have already beaten me to that idea.


The degradation of society is so fast and furious these days, small wonder there are so many people that don't know what a delicate word like "milquetoast" means. Is there anything more vulgar than the expression "sucking face"? I mean, is that all people see in the romantic art of kissing these days? "Passionately exchanging each other's very souls" is more like it. Why can't that be the common idiom? It's so much more refined and sensitive. I'd be like, "Hey baby, wanna go upstairs and passionately exchange each other's very souls?" And if I'm lucky, the reply would be, "Whoa, yeah! You give me yours first." And after eighteen years of marriage, she'd be like, "Hey, do you remember which one you've got? Is that your original soul, or is that mine?" And I'd be like, "I don't know. I think mine was the one with the scratch in the corner, but yours was the one with the bit of price tag glue still on it." And she'd be like, "Ok, just so we remember. When I die, I don't want to be stuck with the one that stuffed a half-chewed lemon doughnut down Johnny Wiederman's pants in the third grade."


Fantasy Quest, over on RinkWorks' Adventure Games Live feature (THIS IS NOT PRODUCT PLACEMENT, BECAUSE I AM SAYING SO VERY LOUDLY!), is my idea of a great game, because it portrays a utopian world. I think it's great how you can meet somebody there sitting in the middle of, say, a field, and then you can go way off all over the land four schmillion times, come back, and the guy's still sitting there in the middle of the field. Real life should be like this. I hate hunting people down when they're not where I can find them. The best part, though, is the general store. I want to run a store where I decide what people buy. "Hi," a customer would say to me, "here's ten bucks." And I'd say, "Ok, here's a vat of O-rings." And he'd say, "Darn! I was hoping for the electric lantern! Ok, here's another ten bucks." "Ok, here's four pounds of sausage meat." "Darn!" "By the way, we have a sale on banana nut muffins -- three for a dollar." "Wow, that sounds great! Here's a dollar!" "Ok, here's a roll of electrical tape." "Darn!"


I hate it when I'm driving down the road, smell burnt oil or rubber and wonder, all paranoid, if it's my car or somebody else's. I think tires and motor oil should have custom smells, so we can identify right off whether we should be concerned or not. You start smelling vanilla cream on the highway, you know you're ok, but once the cranberry hits, pull over. No more paranoia. Making these custom smells good smells provides an alternative benefit. Say you're driving by one of those eternally putrescent paper mills: instead of gagging and choking, just speed up to 120 and throw on the hand brake.


There are few more painful head injuries than trying to stand up underneath an open cupboard or freezer door. Things on hinges may give very nicely in horizontal directions, but slam them from underneath, and they are Pillars of Strength and Will Not Be Moved. Obviously this is a problem, and I think you know where I'm going with this. What a great opportunity to market cupboards and freezers with iron pegs sticking out of them! Or little glue packets that burst on contact! Or live electrical wiring! Then when someone really ticks you off, like, you know, using your lane on the highway, you can sneak into his house and ambush all the cupboard doors. After that, it's only a matter of time. Oh, and, also, I think cushioned door edges would be good too, for, you know, like, me.