The night I got drunk and tried to invent something
Right now, somewhere in the world, some clever person is furiously scribbling away. Their eyes are probably darting around for thieving glances as they hurriedly sketch a crude blueprint of the invention that will grant them an early retirement. They’re a visionary, an intellectual titan - a solver of citrus-related problems.
To that person, I say simply: Stop it, you monster. Seriously, friend, just put the biro down and stop ruining things for the rest of us. Every time some show-off designs an easy-wind chapstick or a plastic thing that shapes pancakes into Paul Giamatti characters, they make it harder for the rest of us to effortlessly strike it rich.
There are precious few things left to invent and whenever one of you yahoos decides to cross one off the list, my friends and I have less chance of being able to rent out entire hotels and run enormous waterslides down all 35 flights of stairs.
Those of you who are not yet convinced that there is nothing left to invent have obviously not seen the USB-powered humping beagle, which serves no purpose other than to crudely thrust its plastic pelvis when connected to a laptop. Admittedly, it’s pretty funny.
Once upon a time, men would stroll around with spanners and spirit levels, inventing things and securing their future in their lunch breaks. In those heady days of innovation, wheels, George Foreman Grills, power tools, toy velociraptors and Seinfeld were all waiting to be discovered.
Today, the only things left to create are smaller versions of already tiny things, slightly slimmer phones that can’t make calls and Juno on Blu-ray.
Last weekend, we decided to invent something awesome and get incredibly rich - because that’s what men do when we drink on empty stomachs. All we had to do - as one person put it - was come up with something profitable that no one had ever thought of, such as porcelain dolls that look like rappers.
After a solid 10 minutes of brainstorming, we managed to invent what was essentially a beeper that you sticky tape to your car keys (Find-A-Beep™).
Those hoodie-wearing Silicon Valley nerds and Japanese novelty key ring makers have completely ruined our dreams of inventing something that requires zero effort or technical know-how and selling it to some unscrupulous Chinese company or swapping the napkin drawing for a yacht.
We’d sail around exotic islands with exotic people and baby orang-utans in tuxedos, telling strangers about the time we were at that genius convention and we said that hilarious thing about shoelace tips and then all those Microsoft people laughed so hard they bought the venue and bulldozed it.
All anybody really wants is to be wealthy enough to wear socks and sandals in public, use random driveways as six-hour parking spots and demand a seafood buffet at every restaurant. Why must people with drive and determination take that away from us?
Can’t we just go back to those magical days where anything was possible and I could make insane amounts of moolah by peddling the mechanical equivalent of snake oil? In the meantime, check out this sweet beeping thing I’ve invented that you can glue to your mobile phone.
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