The problem with being the great and powerful Mook is that it has some ups, but is definitely set up for big downers. The great thing about Mookism is that when things go well, my ego is fed, heartily. When my critics react to me and any shortcomings, I chalk it up to how much I and my opinions matter, and therefore my ego is fed- again heartily. Now, if I could only convince others that I am a world superpower all by myself (and the aid of the Colonel- Rentacop of the Year, 2009)
This last Saturday, we were preparing to have a get together with another couple for a nice dinner at our place. My wife was busy in the kitchen trying her hand at a nice creole-themed feast. I on the other hand was busy cleaning up in the living room while doing laundry. I took one look at the desk area where this very computer I am typing on sits. The Colonel is back behind the tower, along with a lot of wires, dust, random papers that needed to be sorted through, and bits and pieces of god only knows it needs to be vacuumed up.
I shut down the computer. Then I unplugged the tower from everything and moved it and all the wires out of the way so that I could do a little dusting and then vacuum the carpet. Seems simple enough and goes by quickly. Then I take all the wires, plug them back in where they go and replace the tower to its normal position. I commence to turn on the computer. It starts up, makes some funny beeping noises like a warning and then shuts itself down. I try again with the same result. I bother my wife, the closest person to a tech guru of the household, and she tries the same thing, jiggles a few wires after an inspection, and we try again. Same results.
It turns out that I am the only person in the western hemisphere who can kill a computer without actually doing anything wrong. I am beginning to think someone has set the Mook up for a dismal failure. Either to stick it to my fragile ego, or to cause me to stimulate the economy by hiring a tech support guy to standby just in case I want to use the computer. This way, he can fix it after each keystroke or movement of the mouse I make.
So, great, we have no access to the computer over the weekend. This is both good and bad. It is good in that I can spend more time reading an actual book a little more often. Also both my wife and I are not wasting time messing around on Facebook or whatever site we choose to visit. (Editor's note: visiting this site and my blog family however are important sites not seen as time wasters. Thank you readers for visiting. Please check out the gift shop before you leave). So we spent some time playing card games, and also a board game with the kids. This is good time spent when everyone is home alone. HOWEVER, not having access to the computer is bad in that it takes away my excuses to avoid actual productive work during the daytime when I'm left home alone during the week.
Now, being the all powerful Mook that I am, this problem was going to require some real genius work on my behalf. So, Monday morning comes rolling around. I get home from work and the wife leaves. I had two plans of action, as a man always does. The first plan was to jiggle wire connections, stare at the box contemplatively, and push buttons. Plan B was to take a screwdriver to the tower, open it up and stare at the innards as though I have some sort of clue as to what I'm looking at inside.
I jiggled, I flipped a switch, I pushed a button. Nothing. I flipped the switch back, pushed the power button again, and VOILA! Computer is on. Had to check with tech support (aka my wife) as to why the keyboard wasn't working. Got that going, found everything was okay with our files. I informed her then of what Plan B was. I think the schism that occurred in her brain almost caused her to wreck. I was assured that had I opened the box, I would be in for a lobotomy via my rear end and her foot. Not her words, but that was the message I heard. Good thing Plan A worked, because I would've been clueless anyways, and and just more than slightly physically re-arranged afterwards.
So, it turns out I don't need a personal standby tech support guy to help me out. I just have to commence jiggling wires, pushing buttons and staring at the electronic stuff until it does what I want it to do. Like the men who stare at goats and kill them, I obviously have the mental powers to stare at electronics and fix them. It's when I touch them that they die. The Force must be really strong in me. Not sure how strong. Probably equivalent to the amount of strength in a small pony at least (thank you Eddie Izzard for this line).
So, if you have anything that needs to be stared (or is it scared when having to look at my face?) into working right, bring it on over. I'll act as though I know what I'm doing. Kind of like a guy who is trying to be manly in front of some poor helpless woman stranded by a P.O.S. car, thinking he'll get a date out of the deal or something. But don't bring a car by. I have not honed the Force well enough to fix objects that big. I've been doing that for years without any luck. so far, Mookism has a better shot at killing a car than fixing one. So technically I'm still more powerful than they are, but just in one way.
Oh, and in case you were wondering. My wife did a fantastic job on the dinner that night. I don't know about the guests, but I could certainly get full on that stuff every night and add some more weight onto my little frame. It's probably best that I don't though. I might get used to it, then having to give it up after ballooning to 400lbs or more, I might go through withdrawals and THAT would be bad. I would kill more than computers to say the least. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go pour myself a 4th cup of coffee.