Gotta respect a financial consultant firm who’d have this ‘Challenge Question‘ on their web-site. Now I could just bury my $100 of course; at the rate the dollar is sinking relative to the Euro and especially the Israeli Shekel, I might even forget where I put my shovel. Still, get-rich dreams interrupt my sleep. Like last night, for example:
I dreamed I clicked on an ad, trying to earn a few Ad-sense farthings for Mel Famy, who recently announced his participation.I chose Despotic Solutions.Com. Their blurb: “We’ll tell ya what to do!” flashed in demonic .gif format and fury. ‘Yeah,’ I thought, ‘me needs to know vot to do, so hey, it’s a perfect match.’
I signed up for the whole package, including ‘Desktop Despot ©’, which auto-loads on boot-up a full analysis of all the world’s stock markets and commodity prices. ‘What’s another ten minutes waiting for Windows to get settled in when you’re a gantze mocher?’ I asked myself. A quick choice of User-Name ([jsolberg 999] and password (‘bigshot_007’ is available!) and I was ...‘Almost finished!’ Sure I was, ‘cept for writing a quick master’s thesis (!)
The Question in the post’s title above was followed by the ‘simple instructions’. “Feel free to use the entire dialogue box for your answer, which will be judged by our panel of ‘Qualifiers’. Good Luck, jsolberg999!’
Ok, of course I’d heard of the Riddle of the Spinks. I mean, ain’t he the guy who bit off the Egyptian Statute of Liberty’s nose? Nah, too easy. Ditto for the tired old ‘guy on crutches’ cliche answer. Nope, this Question called for a no-holds-beared Answer, one which I expected would demonstrate my right to belong to the exclusive Despotic Solutions™ in-crowd.
Hope dies quickly in the digital realm. Less than five minutes after submitting the piece (below) I received a brusque e-mail informing me that “We at Despots value our reputation for advising only the most worthy clients in today’s competitive investment environment. Blah, blah, baloney, blah…” They didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me flat out that my Answer sucked. Hell, I woulda been happier with a simple ‘WTF? Oh well, at least I was artistically challenged to remember an incident I’d forgotten. Who needs ‘Deskpot Destop’, whatevah, anyway? Now to try to uninstall the piece of cyber-schlock. And dear reader, you judge me worthy (or not) to invest my nest-egg with.. damn, I forgot the name already.
All I saw was a brown blur heading off lickety-split towards the oleander fence-row.
I shut off the mower and gathered up what was left of the teddy-bear from under the bushes. “Oy, Angelita’s gonna kill me!”
was all I could think. Until I thought about it some more. Hmm.. not to worry:
1) The child is barely three, and likely hasn’t the eye-hand coordination to aim and fire the Glock through the bars of the playpen, even if she gets a clear shot at me through the bedroom curtains. And furthermore:
2) Surely she must realize her partial culpability in leaving the dumb stuffed animal out there hidden in the tall grass. Plus, my trump card:
3) I’d assembled a mostly-intact torso, if that’s what you call a legless teddy-bear, and a good handfull of ‘schnibbles’, we used to call ’em, body parts, a femur, stitchable dermal remnants, whatever. Reminded me of ‘Headless body found in Topless Bar!’ from the Nat’l Enquirer. Still, I wasn’t an amateur taxidermist for nothing. I’d fix the damn doll-baby before Angie got back from day-care. The lawn can wait another week or two.
Laying out the sutures, the cat-gut thread, the curved needles, I suddenly remembered Polanski, lying there on the mattress in ‘The Tenant’, asking “If they cut off my leg, it’s ‘me and my leg‘; but if they cut off my head, is it ‘Me and my head’, or ‘Me and my body’?”
The question was never directly answered in the film, and anyway, I had worse problems. There was only enough material for one leg. Now Symmetry, a topic I hadn’t yet addressed with young Angelita, kinda dictated that the single leg be re-attached to the lower middle of the torso. An hour later and I admired my reconstruction project.
Flawless to the point where yet another vignette flashed on my screen:
I myself am walking proof that modern medicine, represented by the ancient inscrutable Dr. Xu in my case, can reattach a finger lost in a gruesome construction accident; the fault of a stoned ex-employee suffering from terminal Reefer Madness. Disgusted, I’d pulled the detached finger out from between the panels of the garage door whose springs he’d removed without bothering to inform anyone. I ran/walked, spurting blood on the sidewalk, the five blocks to the Lancaster General Hospital, carrying my hapless finger in the palm of my upraised hand, like the Statue of Liberty. ‘Give me your tired, your weary, your four-fingered luckless schmucks…”
Happy ending, otherwise I wouldn’t have brought it up: Dr Xu actually enjoyed an opportunity to re-prove his talents even at age 82. My only complication since then has been distinguishing between a shekel and a 2-shekel coin in my left pants-pocket on a cold morning. I can live with that. Most days it’s a non-issue.
Well oops, we forgot about poor little Angelita. She took it well, considering. My long-suffering wife did her best to contain a/an LOL, faced with the sight of her daughter playing with a no-longer gender-neutral Bear. “Die Bubba mit da grosse schvantze” we’ll call ‘him’, quietly and in private, at least until the girl gets to the birds, bees, and bears age. By that time I expect to have profited from my on-line investment, and shall buy her a new ‘full-featured’ teddy bear.
There ya go, Depostics: ‘ 4 in the AM, 2 at eleven, and three by the afternoon’. How’d I do?
Wu: Sorry to hear they didn’t buy it….I don’t know, I just wrote ‘My daily alcohol intake’
, and was registered in ten seconds.
Me: Damn. I always try too hard. Now
what am I gonna do with my hundred bucks?
Wu: Um, stay away from ‘Plastics’.
Too hard to stitch.