Dead Professions

NOTE: Credit where it's due, this was totally my friend and co-worker Andrew's idea. Andrew would also like it pointed out that he's never, personally, met a hot air balloon pilot.

The Poet



Once considered the rock stars of their day, the poet has long since disappeared from our cultural landscape, a fact that can mostly be attributed to all of them being, as the historical scholars put it, "major weenies." I mean, wearing tights and talking in clever rhymes all the time just isn't in a way to live a long, not-beaten-up-all-the-time sort of life. Understandably, as time marched on and the real, "modern" rock stars started showing up (bringing with them endless tour buses full of cool, not to mention that they had the good drugs), the interest in becoming a poet among our society's youth plummeted fast. Eventually, the quill pens and foppish hats were put away entirely, or at least they were relegated to the various Renaissance Faires around the country. And, yes, I'm aware that there are still poet laureates out there and there's even a few famous poets still kicking around. Whatever, that's like ten people out of billions. For your profession to be considered "alive," there's got to be enough of you out there to fill the stands at a high school basketball game. Because science says so, that's why.

The Viking



I'm sure there's a metaphor here linking the brutality of the vikings of yore to the ruthless tactics of today's modern corporations, but it's one that should be made by someone much more "Liberal Arts major (with a Poli-Sci minor)" than myself. All I can say is that vikings were bad asses. Sure they killed and raped and plundered and visited untold destruction upon everyone they met, but... um... where was I going with this? Yeah, okay, I guess they were assholes and, generally, it's probably a good thing that they're no longer around to stab people and such. Still... what they lacked in people skills, they certainly made up in nifty hats. Horns!!!

The Clown

And I'm not talking about those fruity, spandex-clad, French clowns that wouldn't know a good pie in the face gag if it walked right up to them and shouted, "Bonjour, you unfunny clownesque-but-not-quite-a-real-clown clown!" I'm talking about the hilarious, scary, alcoholic clowns that they had back our parents days; Clowns that could do a somersault, get hit with a blast from a bottle of seltzer, down a pint of cheap bourbon, and then hole up under your bed with hunting knife. Today, clowning is all about the technical skills of a pratfall, and about the witty nuances of a joke that requires of a viewer a deep, intricate knowledge of Comedia Dell'Arte. In other words, clowning today is boring. And thus, it's dying out as a career choice for crazy drunk teenagers who run away from home. Which is a shame really, because who doesn't love a clown?

I'm sorry, I meant "who isn't terrified to their very core by the icy, painted visage of a clown that's crawling a cross the floor covered in a fresh arterial spray?"