Idea Man

 

I like to think of myself as an “Idea Man”. No. Make that . . .  I am an idea man.

But, please, not the actual guy who does the actual work. More like, “Hey, look at that poop over there. I have an idea! Why don’t YOU pick it up?”

And, speaking of poop, remember that fellow who came up with the concept Evacuated Tube Transport. How’s that for your scatological reference. He’s self-described idea man, Elon Musk. He came up with a thing he calls the Hyperloop. Short story, it’s a vehicle/system that shoots you at ultra-high speed from here to there in no time flat in a tube underground. Maybe send you to perdition if it jams. Just saying.

Mr. Musk was asked if he was going to build his Hyperloop. “No.”  You see, he’s just the idea man. (There’s a lot to say about Mr. Musk. But this is not about him. It’s about ME. Look him up yourself if you want.)

That’s the kind of idea man I aspire to be. And, be famous for being so. Which reminds me; you don’t ever get to be famous for just being. Well, maybe except Kim Kardashian. But, you can get famous for being A This or A That. Being is your ground. It’s your birthright. Everybody’s. It’s worth looking into. That is, besides all the busyness of becoming, getting, going, doing, leaving, and avoiding. And so on, ad nauseam.

Anyway . . . So, here’s my idea:

You know how we now have devices in our pockets and purses, on our wrists, to make a telephone call. And, stuff. Funny, I still use the term “telephone”. Well that’s where it all started with Mr. Bell’s fine invention. We now even have such things to wear as eye glasses. Soon, maybe, we’ll have implants into our bodies which will enable us to do the same things as these ever more miniaturizing devices enable us to do. Similar to how the very concept of “screen” started with a peep hole in some ancient bath house, then to the theater, fast forward to the modern era with television, computer screen, smartphone, smart watch, Google Glass . . .

Again, can it be that far off when we’ll just see it in front of our faces projected out of our visual neural cortex enabled by that bug you’ll have stuck up in you. For a price. And, a new upgrade will be available soon.

You think that’s far-fetched? Then you may have more than an implant — ahem, bug — up yours.

OK. OK. Here’s my idea:

If you extrapolate the technology for the so called 3-D Printer, it’s just a matter of time before the device gets small enough and affordable enough for mass hoi polloi enjoyment. Besides that hand held device in your pocket or purse (or, like I said, up yours) how about a little device you can easily carry to make things you need right on the spot.

Let me reiterate . . . a simple affordable personal device which is loaded with software that enables you to materialize things right on the spot.

Of course, in the long evolutionary view of the human species, surely there will be a time when we take the quantum step completely away from devices of all kinds. Just wishing makes it so. Heady stuff? Yes?

But, the latter possibility should not — probably . . . no, make that definitely not — be available given the present level of human consciousness. It would take no time at all to assured mutual self-extinction of the human race if everyone, or even a few, had the wherewithal to conjure anything at all, any time at all. I’ll see your bomb. And raise you a bigger bomb! No one would ever have to go all in. Just a game of ever increasing stakes. No end to the complications which would ensue. So, no. We won’t be seeing that any time soon. Besides, to have the siddhi to materialize things at will, you’d have to have a good and pure heart. And, if you read the news, who has one of those?

I’m just thinking of something portable with which you could make something useful. I don’t know why, but “coffee cup” keeps coming to mind. Of course! Instead of the same old cup, or same old selection of cups, make a brand spanking new creation every morning. You’d think the cups would just keep mounting up and pretty soon you have to move to a new house. Not to worry. What the device gives, it also can take away. Yes! Mirabile Dictu! Press a button and that thing you just manifested, will de-manifest. No more dirty dishes to clean up. Presto! Poof! Imagine the potential for pranks.

It doesn’t have to end with a coffee cup. For example. Opportunity presents itself, you’re not prepared. No problem. Type in “ultra-thin sensitive and ribbed for her pleasure” and you’re good to go. She’ll be delightfully surprised. OK, females. (I eschew the word “ladies” since I am an enlightened and sensitive New Age guy who would definitely pay equal wages and never looks below the chin.)

It maybe doesn’t have to stop with material objects. “I’m feeling like some lobster ravioli drizzled with the finest Tuscan olive oil, liberally garnished with shaved white truffles.” But, it’ll be just like when you do an Internet search (is it too soon to just say “Google”) and you have to enter “le mot juste” to get what you’re really looking for. You will have to specify in what form you want your amuse bouche. On a plate? Hot? Or, in a sealed bag since you’re all up into sous vide and other kitchen wonders. Speaking of which, do you want any component as a foam? Or, foam something else as a garni? Or, with a foodstuff never before heard of except in some remote region, but is soon to be all the rage in the swellest restaurants and best kitchens. Click the “AMAZING” box for that option.

Not to concern. The software will be designed to take you seamlessly and quickly through the permutations. I can’t say more. High tech, you know. It’s not for the average person. Just one word to give you a hint . . . “Algorithm.”

I know what you’ll probably ask right about now. Where will all this stuff come from? Good question.

But . . . Hey!

Remember what I said!

I’m the idea man!

Why don’t YOU go and figure it out!

And, I have another idea for you. Take out the garbage!

PS . . .  

Congratulations. I’m amazed that you’ve made it to the end. My lovely granddaughter reported after reading one of my stories, “You talk too much.” Well, little darling, that’s why they call it “Wronski’s Wramblings”. You don’t get on a rocket ship to the Moon if all’s you want to do is to go into town and do a little shopping.

And, since you’ve made it to the end, you get a special treat. It’s my DVD with a list of ideas which you yourself can make come true. And  . . . you’re welcome.

Just send a check made out to C.A.S.H. in the amount of $100 to cover shipping and handling.