Updated: 9:19 a.m. EDT June 3, 2003
A few weeks ago, my wife -- a member of two academic honor societies -- graduated from San Diego State University summa cum laude. Now she's headed to grad school.
My greatest academic achievement probably occurred in sixth grade, when I memorized the helping verbs. As such, you might think that I'd be feeling a little self-conscious in the face of my wife's successes.
But I'm not. Wanna know why?
Because I am a freaking super genius.
People may be honoring my wife now for her high GPA and hard work, but soon I'll be just like Abraham Lincoln -- with high schools, freeway tunnels and town cars named in my honor.
I don't needs me no fancy degrees from some fancy University of Fancy. I got ideas, man. Ideas that will make me rich and make the world a better place in which to live.
Super Genius Idea No. 1: The Elton John Concept Album
As you are no doubt aware, it's impossible not to sing along to Elton John songs on the radio. I don't know one person who owns an Elton John CD, yet everyone knows the lyrics to his songs.
But I think the entire Western world -- and possibly a few folks in Japan -- would be eager to get their hands on a CD that features Elton's infectious hit "Saturday Night's Alright (For Fighting)" reworked in several different styles, including:
The 100-castmember Broadway version. The Irish folk version. The slow, reflective, acoustic version, featuring Eric Clapton: "Y'know, Eric, I believe that -- of all the days -- perhaps Saturday is the best for fighting."
Super Genius Idea No. 2: Super Bowl Island
Just off the coast of San Diego lie the Islas Los Coronados, a set of scrubby, unpopulated islands owned by Mexico. I say these islands should be turned into the permanent home of the Super Bowl.
Obviously, putting the big game on an island makes security easier. But the best reason for doing this is the hope that, in the unlikely event that the Raiders ever make it to the Super Bowl again, their fans might get lost at sea.
Super Genius Idea No. 3: Lower North Dakota's Terror Level
North Dakota, the Peace Garden State, has an image problem. Of all the states, it is the only one with a decreasing population. To bring tourists into the state, North Dakota should lower its terror threat level to green -- the lowest level. Because, let's face it, there's nothing in that state to blow up.
If people will spend good money to vacation in Branson, Mo., they'll spend good money to do absolutely nothing -- safely -- in Minot, N.D.
Now, I know what you're thinking: What if this especially low level encourages nasty types to flock to the state in an effort to prove authorities wrong?
Frustrated by the stunning lack of targets, those nasties will slowly convert from Islamic extremism to stoic Lutheranism. Lutherans understand that God probably doesn't like you all that much, and even if He does, you're definitely not gonna get 72 virgins out of the deal -- if you're lucky, heaven will have ice fishing.
Super Genius Idea No. 4: Score $2.5 Million From The Feds
With the terror level in North Dakota down to green, that frees up quite a bit of money from the Department of Homeland Security.
Recently I sent a letter to Homeland Secretary Tom Ridge that I feel makes a convincing case for where that money should go.
In short, I argue in the letter that I am deserving of $2.5 million because of my (real or perceived) Welshness.
Click here to read the letter that I really did send to Tom Ridge (no, really -- I did). I'm still waiting for a response.
Super Genius Idea No. 5: Revive American Theater
For this one, my concept is simple:
An all-female, all-nude version of "West Side Story" performed entirely on trampolines.
Just the mention of this idea probably has major theaters already sold out in hopes that the show will grace their stage.
Yep. I think I've proved where the real brains are in my marriage.
So what if my wife has accomplished more than I have -- they'll be singing folk songs about me in the hills soon.
In the meantime, I'll be here reciting the helping verbs. Be, am, is, are, was, were ... uhm. Darn, maybe Rachel remembers them.
Chris Cope is married, with no children. His column appears every other Tuesday.