Rant-day 

Sunday through Saturday, Saturday, through Sunday, every day has a plan, a schedule, a theme.  That’s right.  I take my lead from the ancient Geeks, who Fried, Sat, Sunned, and Monned—whatever the heck monning is. Whatever it is, you can bet the geeks did it.

Geeks?

Greeks?

Meeks?

Eh, whoever. The point is, they all did it to inherit the Earth. Why? That’s what they did on Monday.

“Hey, Stupidicus, did you get your monning done yesterday?”

“Oh, yes Lemmingus, Oblivia and I were up Monning all day. I can’t talk now though, we’re two-fering today.”

In the following centuries, the calendar hasn’t changed. Neither have we. That’s right, every calendar day marches forward appropriately. It’s got its feet on the ground and keeps reaching for the stars--at least on Casey Kasem Thursdays. The rest of the week is filled with Taco Tuesdays, and fish head Friday: every day specializing in a personal demographic.

For example, My Mondays are all about Demographics themselves. For those of you un-savvy in the ways of fish-in-a-barrel marketing, the word “demographic” may sound Greek. Those of you savvy un-savvy-ists, are smarter than your average bear demographic suggests: it is Greek.

I’m not Greek. I’m a Scott. Not as in the paper towel (cuz I’m leaky and fall apart), but as in the Northern European region without Greeks (where the men are leaky and the women fall apart). All I can tell you is that “Demographic” come from the words demo--or “demon,” and graphic, which means “naked picture on the internet.”

That’s right; demographics count how many people look at how much Internet porn on any given day.  It’s a boring and stupendous statistic, but somebody’s got to count it. Demographic-demons look at other things too. When those graphic demons swim out, they also look at ways to stereotype people into consumer-stuffed fish barrels.

According to the cliché, It’s easier shooting. And you know why it’s called a “cliché: It’s French for “every Greek is doing it.”

A great example of the fish barreling is radio. Unless you listen to modern pop radio, you’re not listening to porn. Still, you are demo-gathered and barreled. Do you listen to love songs on the radio? According to today’s Demo-demons you’re a woman, probably 35-50, named, Mary, or a guy trying to pull the wool over one. All the advertisements are made especially for the first group, because everywhere that every Mary went, the second group was sure to go.

 It’s true. Listen. How many ads want to lock you in the front seat of a “family” or “luxury” car? Why isn’t anybody selling you the latest Ford Mustang? Because, if you want to buy a Mustang, you belong to the porn station. If you’re here, SUVs are for you.

Abandon testosterone, all who enter here.

On the other hand, you don’t get strip club ads either. Their surveys say you won’t be found in one.

Me? I don’t do porn stations or strip clubs (No, REALLY!!!), but I am a card carrying Demographic.  Yeah, don’t tell my dad. He would disown me. It’s true though: whenever I sign a form or anything, I check the boxes of my party: white (non-Hispanic), Male, 35-45, Divorced, and Unemployed.  They know me: I’m Pavlov’s dog-in-a-box. Send a pretty girl to ring my bell, and I’ll drool every time.  Yeah, the Pirate Queen takes full advantage of this.

“I told you, baby, I don’t want to watch the Care Bears on Ice--“

Ding!

“Yes mistress. I’ll get my keys.”

You’d think that the “Unemployed” dog-tag would move me to persona non careabouta (Another Greek term) in the consumer lists, but no. Demo-demons don’t care that American Express has rolled up their member carpet, and stolen away my reward privileges. They only care about the size of my refrigerator box and how many rooms are in it. They still see me as a consumer with opinions.

Well, I don’t know about “consumer” but I do have opinions, and that’s why Monday is survey day. Everybody sends me surveys: shopping groups, Internet companies, even American Express sends me a customer service email. I’m still more than happy to share my un-edited feelings with those demo-demons.

I’m an opinionated free spirit. Other demo-demons get my feeling too!

How do you feel about kitty litter, Rob?

Let me tell ya. I find it a little rough on my paws.

How do you feel about, Euthanasia?

I’m pro youth, no matter what continent. Oh, that’s not what you meant.

They collect my feelings, tally them, then add them to the growing group of others collecting in my demographic. My demo is huge--I wish other parts of me were that large! I’d be a party! My demo is a party though, and we’ll keep you up all night long! Yeah, we cry loudly about how much we used to have. It gets disturbing. 

When I first got Divorced I felt so alone. All my friends were married. Even my parents were married. Maybe not to each other, but they still belonged with the in-crowd. I checked the “Divorced” box: I’m an outsider.

Not anymore!

I lost my job. There’s another group who’s kicked me out. I found a bunch of people from the first group out here too! The thing I’ve learned is that every time a door is slammed in my face, God opens a window for me to fall backwards through, but he also gives me people who catch me when I fall.

The thing is, I’m not an outcast. I’m part of a growing demographic. I’m part of the new American anti-economy. That’s right, we are the Pavlovian frothing, divorced, and unemployed, ruling the streets! Mac-n-cheese, and ramen noodles for everyone!

Mustangs and SUVs? PSHAW!  If they’re not bound by Bondo and rust, they aren’t cars! We’ll have a new economy based on Facebook coins. That’s right. My people rule Facebook too!

Facebook: Where individuality lumbers to die: we like; we join; we follow.

And that’s the downside of demographics.  No matter how you slice us, we come up peanuts, and we’re the same as everybody else. When we’re hurting, that’s a great thing. We’re not alone because somebody else has traveled the same road we have.

“My wife left me for an Mime with a lisp.”

“Mine too!”

Camaraderie.

At the demo-sheep-book end, it grinds us into homogeneous chuck. One size fits all. One all fits our consumer size. I can’t do that! I love you all, but I’m not you.

What’s more important for you: YOU’RE NOT ME!

Yes, yes, I know that’s quite a relief.  When I was a kid I read “A Wrinkle in Time.” Do you all want to be It-Robs?  I think not! No more than I want to be It-Reader #2s.

I remember as kids playing tag, nobody wanted to be It.

Today, I read about somebody creating a viral hoax just to shape the sheep. Why? To see if they could. Today, so many people clamor and crawl to be the Demographic It--the one showing others how to follow.

I guess that’s why I fill my calendar with schedules and themes, because even if I give a day to demographics, I don’t want to fill my life with them.  I’m a Scott, not a Greek, and on Monday I fill out my surveys to skew the curve.

I have to wonder, if groups on demographics aren’t why we find ourselves in trouble to begin with. We’re all facing problems, but shouldn’t we face them as individuals? The only way to make it through this, is to stand up for ourselves. I’d tell you to follow me, and think for yourself, but that would defeat my own purpose.

Yes, Rob…

Follow you, follow your heart, follow God, and care for your fellow demographic-ians, for every demographic has enough trouble of its own.  No matter how you fill your calendar, doing this makes you a better number, and shapes the demo of our world for the better.