Always one to pursue useless knowledge wherever he can find it in a seemingly never-ending quest to achieve the improbable and downright unlikely status of modern-day Renaissance man, Mark Bittmann has indulged his desire to never be lost in any conversation, by developing an arcane understanding of things of little consequence or import while maintaining his alleged status as a small fish in a small pond.
As long as his self-indulgent whim is catered to, he manages to sustain the facade of someone under the misperception that others care about what he thinks. With a ubiquity normally reserved for greenhouse gasses, he chases his random and inconsequential thoughts with all the tenacity of a banana peel. This is his life, his curse, and his twisted and maniacal way of impressing the ladies.
I've been kicking around the same old fantasy that comic book readers have been indulging in since it became apparent that superhero yarns were here to stay and not just a fad soon to be replaced by funny animal comics. Once again I've been thinking about which power I'd like to possess, given the opportunity. Ever since I was a tyke, I always thought it would be cool if I could just take to the skies and fly. In fact, I even wrote a column about various advantages and disadvantages to various powers and settled on flight as my choice. Well, since then I've decided to think about it in more practical (read: selfish) terms more suited to my lifestyle and personality and have come up with what I feel are some pretty good reasons for deciding that at this time I need powers to benefit me and me only. In light of this, what say we dispense with the more classic and romantic power of flight as an option and focus on an ability that I feel would be more applicable to the betterment of my existence (I told you I was thinking selfishly). Never mind all that "helping out others" crap, I've decided that at this juncture in my life a little telepathy, along the lines of the level of ability sported by Professor X, might make my life a little easier, and by extension it may help to ease the burden I sometimes am to others along the way.
I've mentioned in this column before that I have one nasty temper and once I've decided to go off, there's no holding me back. I let loose on the offender (be it animate or inanimate) with a staccato of expletives faster than a Blue Note John Coltrane solo played on 78 speed (OK, so no one uses LP record analogies much any more and I'm dating myself, but it fits, so what the hell) and may the gods help anyone caught in the strafe without a flak vest. Mixed metaphors aside, let's just say that when I go off, I go off! Sure there are better ways of handling frustrating situations than the method I employ, but I'm still learning to master them. I am now slowly but surely learning the secrets of anger management and have actual hope for not dying of a heart attack before the age of 40. Although frankly, I'm not learning quickly enough for my satisfaction. This is where having a little talent for manipulating the gray matter of those who fuel my frustrations might come in handy in helping to reduce my stress level.
Imagine if you will a morning commute without the seemingly daily ritual of being cut off in traffic by those unconcerned with your making it to work on time for a change. You mentally manipulate the motivations of those around you in concert, resulting in a parting of vehicles in your way that would make Moses proud. Remember that cell-phone wielding yuppie scum that attempts to pull out in front of you every morning in a ritual that you only come out on top of half the time. No more. Mr. SUV can now sit there in all his clueless glory, befuddled and confused as to just why it is he now plays witness to your fleeting by every morning as you give him the one finger salute, the compulsion to beat you through the intersection no longer a part of his brain chemistry's make-up. You stop short of having him spill his coffee on the leather interior of his empty status symbol, deciding to save the idea for another morning's amusement.
Then there are the more than obvious advantages to possessing the power to control the thoughts and actions having to do with the dating arena. I really don't think I need to go into too much detail here. I live by the credo that one's imagination is far more vivid than any word or picture can convey, so I'll just leave it up to you to come up with a scenario that best suits your sense of carnal knowledge. 'Nuff said on that.
Moving right along…Let us turn our thoughts to matters out of the average person's control that speak to us all, common complaints that we all share and that I relish the thought of finding an solution for. There's influencing the meter reader in his analysis of your electrical expenditures. What about easing the greed-driven loyalty of your bank's loan officer, resulting in a 15-year loan with an unheard of rate of interest…hell, no interest for that matter. Operating within the limits of the system can be beneficial enough and completely circumnavigating the law requires the manipulation of many a psyche, not just the one filling out the form, so the point is to ease your burden, not eliminate it. Best to still make some sort of house payment anyway, even if no one but the original owner makes a dime off the sale. Unless, of course, one is possessed of little conscience as well. In which case they would be wise to take their cues from the White Queen and put Wall Street's finest at their financial disposal, dedicated to the swelling of their coffers and the accompanying advancement of social status. It's a short life, so why not make the world economy one's proverbial oyster.
Personally, I feel I am not up to the necessary slimy palms that would require a mental greasing should I ever be dumb enough to entertain the notion of dabbling in the realm of influencing matters of State. One can only imagine the depraved thoughts and memories the average political animal that must be navigated before finding something to exploit to their advantage. Not to mention the labyrinthine process of separating truth from falsehood, a task akin to finding a needle in a haystack. Politicians are slaves to many an agenda and it's not always apparent who their motives are intended to benefit, so deciding which gray cells to massage is likely dicey business and not recommended to those who do possess a conscience and/or a sense of decency.
So, I think I'll learn to be satisfied with controlling my own world for now. If only because it may lead to my gaining a stronger hold on my temper. Reactive personalities like myself need less to react to and it's usually the actions of others that set me off. With a little practice, I could probably learn to control my entire daily environment, assuring that no one around at any time would say or do anything to offend me or insult my sense of what is best for me. I said up front that my imaginings on this subject were of the utmost selfishness and what can be more selfish that molding one's environment to best suit them…and screw everyone else. However, in light of the above, I wonder what it is I would learn from controlling the thoughts and actions of others to make my life easier? Probably not much, now that I really think about it. I'd still be the same guy, a slave to his temper and denied of the true personalities of those around me. Maybe it would make life easier, but if there is no longer anything to conquer, no more personal growth that need be made, what's the point? We aren't here to have a cushy, coddled existence, or we wouldn't be blessed with the frustrations offered by morning commutes, opposing opinions and the opposite sex…among other things. Real living means overcoming obstacles both personal and societal and dealing with the various ways others handle them and how it affects you that makes life interesting and unpredictable. Besides, a completely controlled personal climate would probably lead to one developing the wonderful qualities of sloth, a false sense of invulnerability and an unreasonable sense of entitlement. Who needs that? On second thought I think I'll stick to dealing with my temper the old fashioned way…through the wonders of modern chemical science. Yep, give me a little Prozac with a Zoloft chaser and I'm good. Everyone around me will be happier and I won't be able to tell the difference between righteous anger and a warm fuzzy. Then again, maybe I'll return to considering Plan A and fly over the traffic on the way to make my mortgage payment.
