Another Man's Treasure

I've finally found justification to be a pack rat.  A North Carolina woman recently sold an original Nintendo system and 5 games on Ebay for upwards of $13,000.  This will never be my luck, although I did sell a Michael Jackson 1988 tour jacket for $ 80.00 on Ebay once. (I paid $ 3.00 for it at a Goodwill store in Lenoir, NC).  Ever since I "flipped" the jacket for a profit, and especially since Jackson died, my dad thinks that anyone who owns a copy of Thriller is now an instant millionaire.   He may be on to something - there are only 110 million copies of Thriller known to exist.

An Open Letter To 1990

Greetings from the future.  I'm writing to caution you about a frenzy that's going to turn the world on it's ear in 20 years.  You see, here in 2010, social networking is much more than attending a job fair in your Sunday best. Social networking is a phenomenon that takes place on your computer and is way more involved than having that hard-bound edition of Who's Who Among American High School Students that your proud parents will be conned into purchasing. 

Computers are now used on a daily basis and for things far greater than playing Oregon Trail.  There is now something called an internet, and on this internet are pages of information called websites - hundreds, dare I say thousands of 'em - that can inform, entertain, arouse, or disgust you (or any combination of the four).  There are several social networking sites where you can catch up with old friends and make new ones.  Tread lightly - this can will become addictive, and there's a chance that all of your networking via the internet will leave no time for social activity with actual flesh and blood.  

These social networking websites have places where you can type up short sentences that let everyone else on the website know what you are doing or thinking. Such typed personal updates are called "status updates," known in some circles as "tweets," and they give you the opportunity to keep your friends in the know...about everything. You can save yourself a lot of embarassment by thinking of your status as a microphone that's announcing to the whole world what's on your mind.  Please, please don't abuse this.  There's now a constant need-to-know culture that's been cultivated by instant celebrity, and it will tempt you to habitually type up and share (post) your status and journal your every waking moment.  As a courtesy to your fellow man in 2010, try to avoid posting the following:

•  What you're eating.  Unless you're a diabetic subtly crying out for help, you should never post, "Bob is eating a Snickers bar. Yum!" or "Bob brought a peanut butter sandwich for lunch.  I forgot how much I like peanut butter."  Surprisingly, most of us can get through a given day without knowing your eating habits. If the status-as-microphone analogy didn't take, think of it as a telephone.  Would you ever phone a friend to let him or her know what's going down your windpipe, and then slam the phone back down on the cradle?
• Unoriginal political soapbox stances.  Example: "This country is sending aid to (insert impoverished/disaster-stricken nation here), and we won't even help out our own.  I bet nobody will have the courage to repost this, but I do!"  Wait. What? Courage?  I never want to be in your foxhole if cutting and pasting is the bravest thing you can do.
• Song lyrics.  This is a bit of a gray area, because lyrics themselves aren't too bad. Just refrain from inserting yourself into the song.  Example: "Bob's not aware of too many things, but I know what I know, if you know what I mean."  Please do not do this.  Edie Brickell doesn't know you, and you weren't her inspiration. 
• The obvious.  In the future, spouses will still love each other (most of the time), and moms will cry when Junior upgrades to a big boy bed. So there's really no need to publicly announce events and emotions that are generally regarded to be true. Example: "Bob has the best wife in the world! I love you Sandy!" Reaction: "Who the &@!# cares?!"  What would be much more post-worthy and interesting would be something like "Bob is only staying in this sham marriage with Sandy because of the children he never wanted to begin with." 
• Anything more often than twice a day. If you post more frequently than this, you are likely someone without enough to do and without real-life flesh-and-blood friends.

These items to avoid posting apply not only to status updates but also to social groups that you'll be tempted to join.  Groups such as I Bet I Can Find A Million People Who Hate Cancer.  Wow.  What a hardline stand.  I'm not one to make generalizations, but I'm pretty sure it's a safe assumption on my part that mankind as a rule hates cancer.

And so, with this info in hand, you are armed with the knowledge that will help you avoid certain shame in 2010.  You'll be ahead of the game, and well on your way to establishing meaningful relationships with your internet "friends," most of whom will just be little square faces in a digital mosaic that has no bearing on your reality. Or Bob's.

P.S. - There are no flying cars in the future. Sorry.

Don't Wear It Out

My name is Dustin. Remember that.  In 1977 (the year I was born), my name was the 81st most popular boy's name in the US, barely edging out the ever-asexual "Jamie."  "Dustin" has since fallen to the #303 position -  a drastic decline, yes, but not surprising since the name does come with a certain cross to bear. 

You will never have a clearer indication that your existence has no impact on your fellow man than when your identity is constantly mistaken.  I have been called Justin (a lot), Dusty, Jason, Doug, Kevin, Dwight, Don, and Rusty.  Most often by people who should know damn well who I am.  And Dusty irks me the most.  I was branded with this misnomer on the first day of 7th grade by my gym teacher.  She took attendance by calling out our full name, and then she followed up by asking what name we went by.  When she got to me, "Dustin" was obviously my reply.  "Okay, Dusty!" she barked back as she made a notation in the roll book with what must've been a permanent marker.  Though I repeatedly corrected her for three straight years, it never sank in. I was Dusty day in and day out with that woman.

I also happened to meet Dusty Rhodes in Charlotte last year, and I got an autograph.  He asked me whom to make it out to, and I told him, you guessed it, "Dustin."  He forgot before the cap came off of the Sharpie and had to ask me again.  I know the man has taken numerous blows to the head in his life and has probably met more than his fair share of fans - what with him being the American Dream and all - but his own son's name is DUSTIN.

And it's not just the name.  Physically, I should stand out in a crowd.  I'm almost always the tallest and/or broadest person in the room.  There can't be that many clumsy oafs in this world whom I resemble.  Or can there?  I have been mistaken for

• A UPS driver
• A brick mason from Clayton, NC
• An exterminator ("I apologize - you look like someone who kills bugs," a complete stranger told me at Borders. "You should be flattered. They make a lot of money.")
• My granddad mistook me for my uncle once
• At a gas station in South Carolina, someone thought I was his supervisor from work.  Does he not see this man on at least a semi-regular basis?
• A friend of a friend told me once that I resembled Vincent D'Onofrio.  Even though I wanted to ask her which Vincent D'Onofrio character she thought I looked like, my gut instinct is that she had the psychopath from Full Metal Jacket in mind.

So make a conscious effort, folks.  Play Brain Age, order a memory-boosting course from the back of a comic book, do something - anything to help you remember the name of the next poor schmuck you meet.  Don't burden So-and-So with the angst of being forever referred to as Such-and-Such.

I've Seen It All In A Small Town III