So Reid, here's my situation. My friend told me to babysit her "baby" over the weekend. His name is Carl. And he's a glittery round bowling ball. How do you babysit a bowling ball?
As with any babysitting, whether what you’re sitting is a baby, a bowling ball, or what you think to be a baby but is later revealed to just be a very realistic doll, your goal is to provide comfort, safety, and an approximation of normal life while the parent is away. However, contrary to popular opinion, bowling balls are very different from babies; the same techniques will not apply to both. If you threw a baby down a hallway or into a ceramic vase, a baby probably wouldn’t like it—heck, it may even cry! But for bowling balls, that’s their bread and butter, because bowling balls are objects of wanton destruction.
So here’s the point: if you want to do a good job with Carl, you must make the ball feel comfortable and safe, and the best way to do that is to throw it mercilessly into solid objects. Like, really hard. Throw it at stuff—trees, windows, precarious houses of cards. Give it a solid beating and let it destroy a whole dangload of stuff. This is the bowling ball’s natural state. This is not to say that babies are not destructive beings! They certainly destroy dangloads of stuff themselves, but it’s more intangible items like personal dreams and clean walls. Hit the ball! That’s what they’re made for.
However, do make sure Carl is not an actual baby. Some parents have weird nicknames for their kids, and it’s better to double check before chucking the baby through a sliding glass door. My friends call their baby “Bean,” and were none to happy when I planted her in the ground so I could fight giants.
Reid, I love TV, and my three favorite shows—Doctor Who, Psych, and The Walking Dead—are all on mid-season or season hiatus! How do I fill the void in my life?
Consult my go-to “List of things to do when TV isn’t even a thing anymore.” This includes:
- Cry harder (you didn’t really mean it the first time, didn’t you?)
- Sigh heavily, look at your watch, sigh harder
- Watch reruns, throw remote at the wall, and scream “IT JUST ISN’T THE SAME.”
- Go to a playground alone and push an empty swing back and forth for a while. (Note: this is the saddest thing a person can do)
- Keep crying. You can never let that stop
- Write some sexy fanfic of said show where all the characters are kiiiiisssssssiiiiiinnnnngggg
Why is something cool until I (or any geek for that matter) do it?
NinJas_are_Michigan, this is not your fault! This isn’t even the fault of geeks! This is simply how cool works. What I am referring to is Faylor’s Theorem, a hypothesis I’ve been fine-tuning for the last few years. The theorem goes like this:
Cool, though intangible, is a measurable force. The unit of measurement is a Fonz, or to abbreviate, an Ayy. Because it is immaterial, other physical objects or forces, like membranes or friction, do not affect it. Because of this, cool, upon being spread to other people, undergoes almost perfect and immediate diffusion until it reaches equilibrium. Hence, while the amount of cool pertaining to an object or idea is kept constant, the localized quantity of cool continually decreases as more people are added and the total cool is spread out among all parties. When you start liking anything cool, no matter who you are, by the mere fact that you like it it is less cool. This natural process of cool degradation is known as Fonz Decay. But it goes further—after a certain level of Fonz Decay, the cool object in question will eventually dip below the average cool quotient naturally present in each individual (Fonz Natural, or Fonz0) and becomes uncool. This point is known as the Parents-Liking-It Threshold.
Let’s try a practice problem:
Several months ago, Gangam Style was pretty cool. Before spreading, its initial cool quantity was measured at 2,790,000 Fonzes (2,790 kilaFonzes). By September 1st, it had 89 million views on YouTube. Assuming equal distribution, how many Ayys did each viewer experience?
By December 6th, the video had 900 million views. How many Ayys did the individual viewer sense then? What was the difference between the September 1st and the December 6th quantity? And, following this logic, around what date did Gangam Style finally stop being cool and start being sorta annoying? BONUS QUESTION: Is this or is this not the day your dad got into it?
That’s it for this week! If you have any questions requiring my skillful advice skills, leave them in the comments and I’ll answer them next week.