How strange that you, of all of us, would prove to be the most hopeful.

(Part One.)

As a newly-empowered person of super, I have some decisions to make.

First and foremost, I need a name. The name must meet two criteria:

1. It must bear some connection, however faint, to my new power.
2. It must lend itself easily to a cool-looking costume.
3. It must conform to classical style.

I have not had my bat-crashing-through-the-window moment yet. My tried-and-rejected list:

“Bugzapper”
“Mr. Milliwatt”
“Drunk With Power”
“The Annoyer”
“Brownout” *
“Sparky” **

* Luna’s suggestion.

**To correctly honor the classical style, this one would require me to be a sidekick. Sadly, to my knowledge, I have no (brace yourselves) super friends.

Other naming ideas welcome.

As far as a costume goes, I probably have to wait until I have settled on a name to begin assembling my signature look. I am fairly confident that it will include garishly colored gloves and a jaunty hat featuring lightning bolts. I have rejected only the suggestion, too silly to credit, of a LOLcat-style t-shirt emblazoned with a picture of me and the phrase “I HAS A POWER”.

The big question, obviously, is whether I will be a hero or a villain. Personally, I would prefer to be a tweener, like Catwoman, as I’m not much of a joiner. But I do feel like I should give the two sides fair hearing.

Villainy is more attractive generally, and I’m sure my Super Myers-Briggs would reflect my greater suitability for membership in the Legion of Doom. Plus, of course, my power seems like a more natural fit for a life of crime. (”It seems, Commissioner, that someone must have walked by Tiffany’s and sent a tiny jolt of electricity through their primary burglar alarm every day for twelve to fourteen months, and there’s only one man alive that could pull that off!”) I’m basically set here. But I have, in the interest of fairness, given consideration to being a hero. As a general rule, I would prefer to avoid constant capture and general thwarting. Plus there would be groupies. But, assuming I don’t wind up being called Sparky and spending my time getting the Green Lantern’s dry cleaning, I think team planet-saving just isn’t for me. Malfeasant personal enrichment and the occasional piece of super poon is a much more motivating set of goals than constantly bailing Superman out of trouble.

It has been said that with great power comes great responsibility. This made me nervous for a while. Research was done. Loopholes were found. And fortunately for me, my power, while legally super, is technically not “great”. Really, I think my only obligation is to maintain a secret identity — so shush, you people — and occasionally thwart or be thwarted.

So I even have a super-catchphrase now: “With vanishingly modest power comes virtually no responsibility.”

Summon me if you need anything diabolical or heroic seen to. Use my cellphone for now; I’ll have a signal as soon as I have a damn name.

In the past six weeks, I have experienced the exact same strange feeling about two completely unrelated books. While reading Nassim Nicholas Taleb’s “The Black Swan”, and then again (many books later) while reading “TRU”, the cookbook mostly by Rick Tramonto, I had the same two thoughts in my head, often simultaneously:

1. “This book is brilliant and useful.”

2. “This guy is a tedious preening douchebag.”

I wanted to put the smug blowhards’ books down. But I could not. Anybody else ever read anything that made them feel that way?

(Besides this blog.)

It was with great sadness that I read, last week, of the passing of bondgirl’s widely loved and admired betta Secretariat.

After converting the Tundra into a Truck of Remembrance, I began preparing my remarks, on the chance I might be done the honor of being called upon to speak at a thronged service in his honor.

I’m leaning toward something like this:

“And it seems to be you lived your life
On the mantel in a dish.
Never shedding, never barking,
Food your only wish.
I would’ve liked to’ve known you,
but I am not a fiiiiiish….”

Be sure to really belt out the last line. It’s very, very satisfying.

Two Things, Found On YouTube While Babysitting, That Made Me Very Happy

(You want sound.)