Jim Wilcox, Guest Writer
(These are real questions from real students)
Dear Professor,
Why is Netflix so addicting?
Signed, Kelsey
Dear Kelsey,
We are weak animals, Kelsey. Any new shiny thing becomes our new shiny obsession. My brother bought a simple Texas Instrument calculator in 1972 to replace his slide rule. It cost $106. Now you can find them on the back of cereal boxes.
Netflix offers instant access to TV shows and movies. The only thing missing is the recipe for theater popcorn. Once that’s on the “menu,” theaters will start to disappear. Why pay $8-$10 per flick when you can get hundreds for the same price?
So to sum it all up: humans addict easily; new shiny things are cool; humans are cheap chumps; humans love theater popcorn; Netflix is a penny per movie (if you binge 24/7).
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Dear Wilcox,
What’s your favorite piece of candy?
Signed, LeBradford
Dear LeBradford,
Whichever one is in my mouth.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Dear Prof,
How should a girl show a guy she likes him if he doesn’t have a clue?
Signed, Cora
Dear Cora,
Cora, Cora, Cora. All it takes for a guy to notice a girl is if she’s breathing. All guys notice all girls.
As they grow older, say 37, they start to notice only girls who fit their images of “The Ideal Woman.” At about 51, they are ready to settle down (whatever that means) and be with one girl, who is now a hearty woman.
So rest assured, young one, that guy notices you. He hopes he sees you every day. If he hasn’t asked you out by the time he’s 37, steal his car, fill the cup holders with bleu cheese dressing and scratch your name on all four doors with a sharp knife. He won’t like you, but he’ll know you’re out there, somewhere.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Dear Professor,
If given the chance, would you bungee jump or skydive?
Signed, Jessica
Dear Jessica,
Are you out of your ever-lovin’ mind? I don’t even like sitting on stools.
I read this three days ago: “You don’t need a parachute to skydive. You need a parachute to skydive twice.”
Given my long history of falling, slipping, tripping, flipping and being chased by large, drooling stray dogs, I loathe all surprises, especially if they involve gravity and crunching sounds.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Hey Prof,
How do you fix a broken heart?
Signed, Trey
Dear Trey,
Nobody knows how to mend a broken heart, and if she tells you she knows, she’s a big, fat, hairy liar. Here’s a thought: I’ll bet skydiving without a parachute would erase her from your mind.
Once.