According to statistics, I am among the top 7% of educated people in the United States.
That’s ridiculous.
While driving home from work today, I was listening to the radio and the gentleman speaking was setting up a story. A very nice tropical jungle scene. And he said the following: “Now just close your eyes and imagine….”
AND I DID.
For those of you who don’t get that – let me type slowly – I… was… D-R-I-V-I-N-G!
Had this been the only occasion of something like this happening it probably wouldn’t warrant me saying a word about it. But, sadly, it is not. Not long ago (this afternoon before my drive home … I’m not kidding) as I sat in my car and gave my pre-drive sigh … knowing the hour long commute back to BOB had nothing to offer (at the time I didn’t know I’d have a radio perform mind-control on me) – I looked at the nice smelly thing I had in my car.
‘Nice smelly thing’, is, I believe, the technical term for one of those air deodorizers. In this case, it was an air ‘odor’-izer because I bought it several months ago with the car, so I never had any odor in the car to ‘de’-odorize if you follow me.
So, I’m looking at this thing, realizing that it seemed to be lasting an exceptionally long time, but not really producing much in the way of actual odor. So, being a person educated to a point that places me in the top 7% of Americans, I pulled this thing out of the vent and twiddled with it for a bit – moving the knob back and forth that controls the degree of odor that emanates from the thing. After a couple minutes I had an inspiration … perhaps, just perhaps, I hadn’t opened it.
Curiously, I was correct in this assumption. For FIVE MONTHS I’ve had this thing in my car wondering why it didn’t emit odor. Driving back and forth every other week to take doctoral level classes – classes that would, should I ever finish the degree, place me in the top 1-2% of educated people in the United States, mind you -- and I had not opened the thing.
This should cause you some alarm – or at the very least a modicum of concern. For I can vote – and on occasion, have done so. When I deploy later this year, the US Government will not only give me a weapon – maybe 2 – with live ammunition, but also put me in charge of other human beings. If that still doesn’t cause you concern, please note, I have procreated. And very likely passed on whatever recessive gene it is that causes me to do these things.
And before you give me the benefit of an entirely too generous doubt, let me explain today wasn’t just a bad day.
No.
Sadly. No.
When I was 15 or so I had a motorcycle – a 100cc Suzuki which I painstakingly took apart in my parents’ basement. Not being particularly inclined mechanically, I carefully put each part on a piece of paper and labeled it so I would, theoretically, know how to put it back together. While doing this, I wondered what the inside of the engine looked like – from the inside.
Now, I must pause here to stress to you the time frame in which this next thought passed through my head. This thought passed through me from pre-thought to “that was stupid…” in fractions of fractions of a single second. A micrometer of some sort - perhaps a flux capacitor or even an Eludium Q-36 Interplanetary Space Modulator (See Looney Tunes, Marvin the Martian) would be needed to record just how fast this thought passed through my head. It was that fleeting.
With all due hesitation, I tell you, as I sat there looking at this engine, I noticed a spray can of “clear” paint and thought… Yes. For a blip in the time-space continuum, I was Wile E. Coyote, Super Genius, thinking I could spray paint the engine clear and have a peek inside without having to even empty the oil.
I’d like to make really, super clear what a small amount of time this was…but I fear whatever prohibitively small time parcel I can come up with will be meaningless to you now.
And if that's not enough to worry you – or more specifically – worry my children who have likely inherited this predisposition. In the early ‘90s, the Shadow and I lived in upstate New York where we had a house that is now a parking lot. While working on said house I took off a light switch plate to reveal some bare wires. I said to my lovely bride, “be careful not to do this (touch the wires) when you turn off the switch.”
It’s important to realize that I have some French-Canadian blood in me and the urge to use my hands while communicating is beyond my control. As I was warning my good wife, I was showing her what not to do – thereby, of course, ACTUALLY grabbing both (very live) wires on either side of the switch.
Whatever few and small faults the Shadow may have, she heeded my advice and never did touch those wires as the resultant piece of French-Canadian bacon that was her husband twitched on the floor.
You’ll note at the beginning of this post I said I was among the top 7% of educated Americans. I did not say among the top 7% of the smartest Americans.
It's an important distinction.
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