Rant

 

(for those in the back: it reads RANT)

It all started in the great city of Timișoara (the first European city to use electric street lighting – from where Edison and Tesla got inspiration for their light bulbs), where I saw the light of day at 11:11 PM. OK, the light of night. Damn it: the light of the bulb.

Then my parents moved to the most vibrant European metropolis, Bucharest (even Paris copied the Arc de Triomphe from the Romanian capital) and, against all odds, they took me with them and the greatest capital of Europe will never be the same again.

For the few of you who still don’t know: scholars discovered that the MOACOC (Mother Of All Cradles Of Civilization) is situated between the Carpathian mountains and the Danube, with the epicenter at Caracal, only 53 miles from where the Noah’s Ark is buried underneath the burnt Library of Alexandria* (FIG. 1 below).

* Mr. Bronzestein made a fortune with that insurance scam (even back then arson was illegal): he just ordered the firefighters to “Pull it!” and 6.6 seconds later the library was history. Eons later, at the down of the 21^st century, his great-great nephew, Silverstein, better known as Lucky Larry, pulled another big one (there are skills that run in the family …) Rumor has it that no insurance company would offer their services to anybody named Goldstein nowadays … 

Even the philosophical stone was found in that region (FIG.2 above) depicting the first writing system including – to the awe of the most famous linguists and their shrinks – punctuation. It is believed that the wonderful novel inscribed in the stone was Homer’s inspiration for the Iliad. The Americans wanted to steal the stone – ya know, like they did with Von Braun and his ilk (Operation Paperclip), so they could get on the moon to prove it’s not made of cheese – but the Dacian King Decebalus had a better Plan B than Adolf …

I remember leaving Timișoara towards my new home: the closer we got to Bucharest, the more some strange electricity was enveloping me and pulling my finger out of the car’s lighter socket put only a slight dent in Maxwell’s equations.

I knew at an early age that I wasn’t born to run with the herd. Like any rising fine young intellectual I started bullying around, mainly pupils, teachers and neighbors: only in Apocalypse Now you could see more blood, misery and desperation than in my grammar school and the surroundings. Then I was disciplinary moved to a different school at the other end of the city. A few weeks later my Zip Code started to rebuild, birds returned to building nests, women grew the courage to bear children again …

My first memorable intellectual venture (which ended up, but of course, with a big kick in my sore nuts) was in the 8^th grade when I tried to solve the ‘Trisection of the Angle”, not knowing that it had been proven to be unsolvable.

After about 3 months of furiously working on it I gave up, cuz I felt I was losing my marbles, and I swore not to waste my time with famous problems ever again (‘Danny boy, you just don’t have that cuckoo to break the math’s back, your mummy didn’t party with Euler or Gauss’)

Since I’m the type of guy who always keeps his word of course that after my trisected fiasco I toyed with the Four Colors and Collatz Conjectures, and again I blamed my mummy for her poor choices in the dudes she dated …

I came to US as humble as it comes, just knowing that I’m smarter and more creative than 99.9999% of them Yanks and I’ll eat America for breakfast in a month or so. Not so fast, Danny boy …

First week some dude of which long name I can’t clearly remember, so I’ll call him Righardia Barusta von Krausta van der Libelusta for short, tried to teach me how to find a job. He wanted to see if I’m qualified for a position at his uncle’s company who had an opening. “Are you bilingual, Dan?” “Of course I am and then some. I’m fluent in English, Romanian and some French”. “In America bilingual means you speak English and Spanish, believe me, I’m an HR expert.” “Well, I’m kind of comfortable in Spanish” I venture, having nothing to lose. “Give me an example.” “Well I know Senior por favor, seniorita por favorita and about seven more words”, says me, full of hope. That was the last time I saw Righardia Barusta von Krausta van der Libelusta for short …

After him I looked for a room. Stopped by a house with a For Rent sign in the window. Knock, knock and some small woman answers: “Hi, I’m Lil Debbie and I’m a rent agent expert, lemme show you your room”. Inside her house the smell of marijuana could easily OD Ozzy Osbourne. She had 2 dogs: the black one was blind and the other was one-eyed, they were hysterically running through the house bouncing off the walls, furniture and my legs. I couldn’t walk for the next 2 weeks …

2 weeks and 1 day since Lil Debbie. INSIDE A BAR:

A 7.7 on a scale of 1 to 10 Latina creeps in and – non bonjour, nu futu-te-n cur -- climbs on the stool near mine: “Bienvenido a América”. “Suck what?” -- that was me trying to play it Kool. The 7.7 reads my mind: “It spells C-O-O-L.” My mental jaw hits my snickers: “WTF?!” She’s unstoppable: “Will you buy me a drink?” “So I can fuck the bejesus out of you?” says me trying to sound friendly. “That would be the day,” replies her with a glimmer of hope. “If you can make me laugh, yeah, why not?” chimes her with a horny flash behind her eye-contacts. “So you want a clown, or a fucker?”, my insatiable thirst for knowledge made me ask. “American women want a clown who can fuck, believe me, I’m a sexpert.” Not quite Zen but it stuck with me. 

My wandering through the Intellectual Properties (IP) jungle:

Did the first one – IP1 – and it took me nowhere. REASON: I had no name in that field – or, better yet, in America, for that matter – so I needed to do something about it. SOLUTION: do IP2, make a name for myself and then monetize IP1.

A few years later I was at the stage: make IPn successful, so you’ll have a name to monetize IP(n-1), then IP(n-2) and so on down the road to IP1 and, in the process, getting my well-deserved Billions (notice the B!) and reward myself with a month on an exotic island with some supermodels shipped 1^st class from Paris, to play hide and seek. After which I’ll go touring the wineries in Tuscany, just to catch my breath. Why did I think that this brilliant strategy was doable? Cuz Hollywood and Radio Free Europe told me that America is the land of opportunity (or is it .. corportunity?), so it must be true, since Americans are all angels who never lie.

Ladies and gents I’ve got news for ya: it didn’t fucken work.

In early 2000s I read about some dude writing some movie script where the main car was a Chrysler and he got good money from Chrysler for that, so that gave me the idea to write a script where the hero car is a Ford. My script, 4 Letters and a Tale, is:

- In the Top 5 smartest puzzle stories ever written;

- Centered on the brightest car logo in the history of the auto industry. That logo also happens to be the most brilliant Go Green/EV logo ever. And yep, you’re invited to prove me wrong with your counterexamples.

- With at least one twist in the top 10 most memorable twists in literature or movies.

But why would H’wood review Dan’s script when they can make their garbage (too smelly to enlist here) and endless remakes – cuz everything smart and original scare the suppositories outta them constipated clowns?.

My next attempt – I’ll only talk about the stuff mentioned on my page – was the lifesaver Never Forget Us! which I patented while being in Texas, the state with the most kids dying of heatstroke in cars in the nation. But some other dude, see below, was the world-wide media darling, hero and genius … 

Just google up “Child genius Bishop Curry” and you’ll get over 4 MILLION (!!) results:

Never a word about the real solution ...

Yep, I got it: I’m the evil white who mistreated the slaves working hard on my vast plantations. So I deserve my fate. In the 21^st century America I’m the wrong color …

Remember, Dreamer: America is the most anti-white country in the developed world and because of that brilliant attitude it is also the safest country in the world IF you count from South Africa down …

In any contest* my device would prove that it is the most reliable, affordable, versatile and easy to install (no installation skills or tools needed) out of all products and concepts proposed so far. But without a name and/or the right connections and/or the right money you don’t stand a chance in America.

* It would be plain common sense to organize a national contest to solve a national (and quite shameful!) problem, right? Ya know, like many countries did (remember the “Longitude Rewards”– that’s what a sane nation does to solve its problems: organize a contest open to everybody – it’s called equal opportunity: everybody stands a chance, not only celebrities and/or well-connected and/or rich dudes, and let the smartest one win – and reward the brightest solution) and still do? Right? Wrong! Not in America where all kind of silly competitions are organized (I’ll get back to this later) but when it comes to kids being baked alive – what a horrible way of dying!! -- when forgotten in cars the mentality seems to be, “Not my kids, let them die.”

My posts on social media (see some of them below) were, but of course, completely ignored.