Reflective Rigmarole

Perhaps it is the weather, but I’m feeling rather reflective and so I thought I’d try something new in my blog today.

In the late 1920’s, Hungarian author Frigyes Karinthy, introduced the concept that each of us, (and not just Kevin Bacon), are six degrees of separation from every other person on the planet.  This idea has since been explored by mathematicians, embraced by society and has recently evolved into a drinking game... so it must be true.

I find things easier to understand if I can ‘see’ them, so I like to conceptualize Karinthy’s theory as a parking lot.  If you are parked only six spaces from your dream car wouldn’t you walk over to have a closer look; to peek inside the windows and have your sister take a picture of you with your cell phone standing in front of it?  Is a grainy cell phone photo acceptable as our only contact to our own personal six-steps to greatness or should we be waiting for the owner to come out so we can ask for details about financing and then request a ride to the dealership?  

Aside from dressing up and showing off our Paris Hiltonish pink-parts, she-banging out off-key music like William Hung or happily giving birth to nineteen kids and counting... how can we, as individuals being parked only six steps away from the our own brand of George Jefferson greatness, get our own  little slice of hard-earned east side pie?  What to do, what to do?

I think the first step is to just decide in what direction we start counting because simply by nature of having everyone in the universe at our sixth fingertip, our possibilities are endless.   Is it being so famous as to be on the Perez Hilton hit-list or smart enough to regularly keep company with Stephen Hawking?  Is it being fit enough to be a Budweiser girl or rich (and philanthropic) enough to join Bill Gate’s 99% club?   Is it becoming inventive enough to join the ranks of Rudolph Diesel or Thomas Crapper?  

Does the six steps to everyone stop once we reach our first goal or do they start all over again and how do we know when we are standing face-to-face with the first person (or parked next to the first car) in the que that leads to the sixth?    

In other words, in six steps or less we are each connected to our own version of someone who has the potential to help us reach our ideal. Alternatively, each of us are that 6th  person for someone a few steps away in the other direction.  Kermit was right... it is a small world after all and I’m not just saying that because Jim Henson very well may be my fourth cousin, twice removed.

What's that smell?

I’ve recently had occasion to wear a cape.   As I wore my cape, I, like many of us, imagined what it might be like to actually be a super-hero complete with shiny over- the- trouser underpants and in possession of special mega-human powers.  Running through the predictable standard super-powers, you know the ones; invisibility, flying, mind-reading etc.  it occurred to me that if I had my druthers, my particular strength would be one of subtle surprise that would easily fit into everyday life.   I would be able to instantly find my enemy’s weakness and morph my attack to exactly fit the individual and the circumstances... a perfect union of power and justice.  Like the universally known untraceable fart, I too would be called Silent But Deadly; a un-provable, potent crusader.

I would require no magic words, wands or well-intentioned side kicks.  I would have no single nemesis, nor would I drive a tricked-out car or be summoned to fight crime by a light beacon in the sky.  I would simply ‘be’.

Through the power of my mind, I would be able to change the pre-set radio stations in cars from Classic Rock to Old Country.  I would have the power to cause others to have uncontrollable and untimely bodily functions, such as burping or stomach rumbles.   I would be able to pop shirt collars from meters away and alter the language settings on cell phones… the possibilities are truly endless.  With stealth and efficacy, my blitzes would be executed with flawless perfection and the best part would be that my 'enemies' would not even be aware that they were being targeted.  The ‘incidents’ would be chalked up to bad luck or eating too many trans fats. 

Just imagine it…  the ill tempered neighbor who hollers at children for walking too close to her lawn would wake up to find her once lush blanket of Canada Bluegrass turned to straw.  The Bell Canada genius who decided that naming the clueless auto-attendant Emily would make the system more ‘user-end friendly’, would discover during breakfast one day that his wife and children all started to talk like Emily-bots and refused to do anything he asked or the know-it-all front-row-sitting keener in science class would find herself with a nasty case of mushroom soup smelling body odor, rendering her forever unable to raise her arm in class to be called upon to answer a question.  Road-rage-tailgaters, bad-referees, loud chewers and loquacious sesquipedalian’s (people who use big words just to be ‘like that’… ironic name I think) would all get a nice dose of what’s comin’ to them courtesy of the great caped SBD (not to be confused with STD... two totally different things).

My superhero slogan would be, ‘Karma’s A Female Dog’, or at least some derivative of that...  though I*think* this slogan may have already been coined….