This exchange happened between my sister, Crash, and me a few days ago. You see, about 20,000 years ago I did what I thought was a really nice thing and surprised my sister in North Carolina for her birthday. Her birthday usually coincides with my Spring Break, so I figured I would give her the best gift of all – me. She seemed quite happy about it at the time, but little did I know that I was setting her up for an annual hopefulness that seems to have gradually turned into full-blown paranoia. Every year at this time, she asks if I’m going to surprise her again. And, of course I say “no” because, even if I was, I’m certainly not going to tell her. This year, as you can tell, the hopefulness has turned into fear, and I’m trying not to take it personally.
I mean we all know the difference between “half-ass” cleaning and the cleaning you do when you are afraid you are going to get murdered by a serial killer and your home is going to be featured on C.S.I. But my sister should know by now that I would be perfectly satisfied with no-ass cleaning because that’s exactly the kind of house I live in on a regular basis.
The other day, there was a story in the news about a woman who got injured because her friend decided to keep his ammunition in his oven, and she decided to preheat it to make some waffles. Now, there are a few things wrong about this story, but my biggest question is: why do you need to pre-heat the oven to make waffles? I mean, I’m not a kitchen person, but I’m pretty sure you don’t bake waffles.
You might ask what that all has to do with this post, but I think that you will agree with me that keeping your bullets in the oven is a perfect example of, half-ass, “Oh crap, I have a visitor, what am I going to do with this armful of armament, I know, I’ll put it in the oven” kind of cleaning. Never predicting that, when you left the room to go take a whiz, your neighbor would suddenly take it upon herself to make some kind of mutant form of waffles that must be put in the oven instead of in the waffle iron that was sitting on your counter.
What I’m getting at, Crash, is you can totally put your ammunition in the oven if you want. Because: A.) I don’t cook, so I think we are all safe on that account, 2.) I don’t clean, so I’m never going to find it in there, and III.) I’m not coming to visit this week, so I really don’t care where you decide to store your ammo.
Although I do feel obligated to mention, Sis, that someone who earned the nickname “Crash” because of her less than graceful performances in the past, should probably not be around live ammunition on a regular basis.
Oh, and I am coming to visit. No, I’m not. Yes, I am. No, I’m not…
Don’t you love having a sister? Happy Birthday.
This is the one occupation I have narrowed it down to that will get respect in 20 years for the special skills that it demands which cannot be replicated by computers – or by people who have spent an hour doing research on the internet.
Saturday Night Live recently aired a skit in which the actors were from the “You Can Do Anything” generation. As Bill Hader stated, “thanks to technology and everyone being huge pussies about everything, it doesn’t matter if you have skills, training, or years of experience: You can do it.”
We are the monster the internet has created – a world of “experts” in everything from desktop publishing to video production. We can diagnose illnesses, compose symphonies, and whip up 5 course meals that you would find in 20 star restaurants. We’re all great at everything.
Since it’s hard to get famous for doing something that everyone else is doing (and quite a few are actually good at), I have been reconsidering my writing aspirations. I mean, if I want enough strangers at my funeral willing to perform a flash mob routine in my honor (since my friends and family will probably decline), then I’ve got to do something a little more noteworthy that requires a little less effort on my part to define myself as uniquely qualified.
The trick is to find something that is not so far beyond my intellect it would be impossible for me to do, yet not so easy that it has diagrams and videos posted on ehow.com.
I have to admit, I got the animal insemination idea after doing yet another one of my dubious Google searches. I was looking for chicken sexer, because I had once heard of that job, and thought it might be a possible candidate for my list. Upon further research, however, I feel confident that chicken sexing will also one day be done over the internet, using Skype, so I can’t really include that one on the list. Unless genetic engineering precludes that, making the whole process obsolete anyway.
Animal insemination, though, would be difficult to do through a computer.
I briefly considered garbage collection, but now that our garbage collectors don’t even have to get out of the truck anymore, I have a feeling there will not be a lot of open positions.
A few other occupations that I’m on the fence about are:
Golf ball diver
This one would be impossible to do over a computer. However, will there be anything but virtual golfing available as a sport in a few years? Are people actually going to be getting off their tuckuses to do anything outside? I think not. Sorry, Mr. Golf Ball Diver. You better start looking for another job.
Well, I think the Directing of the Funeral could be done over the computer. Heck, the whole ceremony will probably be done online by then. I’m not really sure about the embalming process. So, that’s a possibility.
Crime Scene Investigator
This would be difficult to do over the internet. However, since I consider myself an expert in this already due to my addiction to C.S.I., I suspect that there are already a few other couch potatoes I would have to vie with for a position.
Crap. I just thought of cloning. What’s going to happen to the poor animal inseminators, then, when that hits it big?
I Change My Answer to Embalmer
After all, they’ve been around since King Tut.
I shall be the famous Embalmer. And people will dance at my funeral, as is fitting for a world-renowned, not everyone can be good at this, Embalming Expert.
Or, I could just go into wrestling.
“The Embalmer” vs. “The Inseminator”
You’d pay for that, right?photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/phauly/35555985/”>phauly</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/”>cc</a>