Well, here we are for a lifetime event. It is perfect that the eclipse coincides with my top ten list on Monday. You can bet I did not have a spare list hanging around, so yes, this is original.  I’ll run it again during the next one in 300 years.

Top Ten Things Not to Do on Eclipse Day

1 On eclipse day, do not pull into the Chic-Fil-A drive-through. If you do, at best, your wait will be the normal hour. At worst, you will still be there three days from now. (who knew that everyone for ten states around wanted a chicken sandwich, Ferd.)

2 On eclipse day, do not serve inappropriate food at your party. If you do, at best, no one will attend the next one in 300 years. At worst, you will be known as the humorless old grump who doesn’t know how to throw a party. (A pretty tough evaluation for someone who didn’t serve Moon pies, sun chips, meteorite cheese balls, Orbit and Eclipse gum, Galaxy cupcakes, Starbursts, Milky Way, Capri Suns, and Moonshine martinis.)

3 On eclipse day, do not think those Ray Bans will protect your eyes. If you do, at best, you’ll catch on quickly. At worst, the week off from work to rest your eyes won’t be covered under the company’s benefits program. (You didn’t read the fine print under the heading ‘acts of stupidly’ did you Ralph?)

4 On eclipse day, do not think your grocery store will have a full food stock. If you do, at best, you only want to buy rutabagas.  At worst, you’ll find the shelves as empty as the day before a significant weather event. (You didn’t count on your town population going from 11,000 to 220,000 people since you are on the 100% coverage path. You will survive without milk, but your caffeine level is in the red, Buford.)

5 On eclipse day, do not decide to take the family for a leisurely ride in the car. If you do, at best, no one cares you have only gone two blocks in two hours. At worst, you will suddenly realize the traffic gridlock means you’ll spend the night in the car. (Little Jimmy’s cough and runny nose didn’t seem like a big deal before. Looks like twelve hours of exposure may put you under, Sid.)

6 On eclipse day, do not think you won’t need sunscreen. If you do, at best, the day will be cloudy. At worse, your assumption of the sun being blocked has given you a quick trip to the ER for those third-degree burns. (You should have known the eclipse only lasts four minutes, Bunky. The rest of the twelve hours you spent out there would have required an SPF of 50.)

7 On eclipse day, do not think you are immune to the effects of too many tequila sunrises. If you do, at best, you will quietly pass out. At worst, the next morning, you look at the outgoing calls on your phone to discover at least ten to your boss after midnight. (Too bad you can’t remember the reasons for the calls, Tex. Maybe it will come to you at your one-on-one Zoom meeting with the boss in five minutes.)

8 On eclipse day, do not try to park for free in that vacant lot. If you do, at best, the owner of the lot is on vacation. At worse, Tiny the WWF champion, the lot owner, has been dying to try out his new piece of recycling equipment. (The two-foot square metal block that used to be your car is available at Tiny’s recycling center. He’ll give you a deal, Haywood.)

9 On eclipse day, do not finish that 32-ounce big gulp before the big event. If you do, at best, the city has provided port-a-potties. At worse, the event you are attending is in the middle of a giant field with no facilities, and there is not a tree, shrub, or bush for miles. (You are now faced with a dilemma, Jake. You either make a run for it or hope there is a puddle you can drop into.)

10 On eclipse day, do not skip the event. If you do, at best, you’ll miss a lifetime opportunity. At worst, you have yourself convinced that it was no big deal. (Don’t worry, Derrell, maybe with cryogenics, you might be available three hundred years from now for the next one.)

This post was published on February 5, 2018. I think it is still current since there are many geniuses walking around.

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I was inspired to write this post after pondering a discussion with a brilliant person. I wondered what it would be like to be that smart. One thing led to another, and the list was born.

Top Ten Things Not to Ask a Genius

10 If you are talking to a genius, do not ask them how it feels to be so smart. If you do, at best, you’ll get a laugh. At worst, you’ll be forcibly engaged in a Socratic analysis of what “smart” means. (Getting tired after a couple of hours, are you, Dante?)

9 If you are talking to a genius, do not mention the weather. If you do, at best, they’ll excuse themselves. At worst, you’ll be entertained by a recap of the correlation between black hole proximity and global warming. (You didn’t know that was the subject of the person’s doctoral dissertation, did you, Deon?)

8 If you are talking to a genius, do not make any sudden moves. If you do, at best, you’ll get a flinch. At worst, your genius will have Tiny, the WWF champ, as a best friend. (Tiny moves fast when he thinks there is a danger, Demetri. I think I would begin testing those Rockport shoes and see if they are a flexible as advertised.)

7 If you are talking to a genius, do not comment on their clothes. If you do, at best, they won’t understand what you are saying. At worst, they will provide you with the existential theory behind their choice of what to wear today. (Not only did it take two hours, but you still don’t understand how the stripes and checks relate to the world politic, do you, Dixon?)

6 If you are talking to a genius, do not ask them what they want to eat. If you do, at best, you will get an “anything” response. At worst, you will be taken down a probiotic path from which there is no return. (You’ll never look at a steak the same way again, Dacy.)

5 If you are talking to a genius, do not ask them about their favorite sport. If you do, at best, they’ll defer to asking you. At worst, after an hour,, you finally realize they are talking about a game that was played in ancient Macedonia. (The sad part is their team lost, and you now have a complete commentary on how the other team cheated with a deflated goat bladder and poisoned arrows.  Some fun, huh, Daelan?)

4 If you are talking to a genius, do not ask what they watch on television. If you do, at best, you’ll have to define the term “television.” At worst, you will be treated to watching the Nature Blog live feed of baby ants who were cloned from a prehistoric frozen egg hatching as viewed on an iPad. (Really glad you asked that one, aren’t you, Dagan? Wait! Is that an anteater?)

3 If you are talking to a genius, do not ask if they have a hobby. If you do, at best, they’ll be too shy to share. At worst, before you know it, you are hooked up to a worldwide XBox War of the World gaming competition. (So how many lives do you have left, Daileass? I think you better swing that broadsword at everything you see. Given the intensity of this game, I have a feeling that once your lives are finished, you are, too.)

2 If you are talking to a genius, do not ask if they belong to a club. If you do, at best, you’ll get a stare before they walk away. At worst, you will have to defend the idea of having a high affiliation need as it relates to your own insecurities. (Makes you want to go to a cabin in the mountains doesn’t it, Daire? Then you can prove you are not intellectually weak and, as a result, don’t need anyone.)

1 If you are talking to a genius, do not ask what they do for a living. If you do, at best, you’ll get a one-word answer, “work.” At worst, you will have a detailed description of the job but will not understand what it is in a hundred years. (Did you get the opinion that they were speaking in a different language, Dalbert? What the hell is a Spectrographic Survey Specialist anyway?