On My Way to Obscurity

Each year, the Nobel Prize committee divvies out awards to those that have excelled in a specific field. Economics, for example, was featured in Ron Howard’s version of A Beautiful Mind and based on Sylvia Nasar’s biography of John F. Nash Jr.

Nash was honored with the Nobel in Economics for his “Game Theory” concept that was, incidentally, initiated in his doctoral work some forty years before the 1994 Nobel Prize as presented to him.

I have a theory, also. I call it the “Corn Theory.” The concept is simple. Too much of one of your favorite things can lead to a decrease in your appreciation for the former. In other words, if you eat too much corn, your gluttony overtakes your enjoyment and that, one time, favorite is compromised. It’s a sound theory. I’ve experimented with chocolate brownies, Cherry Garcia Ice Cream, and Czech Bud Var Pilsner.

So, I have the theory. However, the Nobel folks aren’t likely to shine the light on me unless I can show a practical application with everyday innovative use.

At first, I thought about applying my theory to the entertainment industry. However, I made the capacious mistake of taking Carrot Top as my subject of study and application. It, thoroughly, skewed my testing results, because, eventually, I discovered that no one ever liked him. It did enlighten me to the fact that I needed to factor the uncanny influence of agents and publicists into the fray. But wait; a revelation.

Publicists, agents, advertising agencies, lobbyists, pundits, and the like are obstacles to the individual. They cloud the issue on our true opinions. Or, rather, they shape our ability to have all the pieces from which to draw that opinion.

Crap, I’m getting too deep, and I’m, even, boring myself to tears. Does Nobel like boring?

Think of it this way. Do you really think a Carnie worker gets a kick out of riding the Ferriswheel? All that spinning after downing a forty ouncer mixed with the hepatitis medication can ruin the experience I suppose. However, the fact remains that they see those spinning conglomerates of aluminum and chewing gum every day.

The constant exposure lessens the pleasure. Hmmm…perhaps my theory applies to marriage.

A constant exposure to upraised or down set toilet seats, mothers’-in-law who keep locating your new address, unremitting requests to fix the sink, and minivans influence what you, one time, thought to be your favorite “thing” in the world. Some people compensate by obtaining other favorite “things.” This, generally, leads to your first favorite thing walking away with 50% of your overall favorite things. You’re left with a query of how you could, possibility, have considered her a favorite in the first place.

I have a new theory. It involves bigamy and prenuptial agreements. I call it the “You take out the trash, I’m busy…” theory.