Thursday, November 13, 2008

The Carney Radar, otherwise known as the Bullshit Detector among the unwashed and the low, is the preferred term in this forum because, as you well know, we abhor vulgarity. Whatever you choose to call it, it is a military-grade early warning system, freely available to all, that susses out the shenanigans, bamboozlery, and other such assorted poppycock slyly crafted to trickify your unwitting self. For you, the device may emit a shrill sound, perhaps a paid ringtone, but for me it’s simply a feeling, a grip in the gut that tells me to steer clear.

I have an appointment with my optometrist tomorrow. It’s not the check-up itself that concerns me–after all, what could possibly go wrong with waving metallic implements small and large near my eyes?–so much as the aftermath, when my wallet and prescription are laid bare to the circus of expensive frames and contacts available at the doctor’s office. It’s very much Sophie’s choice: pay through the nose for lenses in-house and get my full vision plan credit, or purchase for less from a major retailer, albeit with a healthy cut to my plan allowance. Sure, I’ve done my research and compared prices, but it’s draining to second-guess constantly the fundamental goodness of people.

Which, now that I think about it, is precisely what I usually do, though the exhaustion comes from having both the grim Hobbesian outlook and the detector on at full blast, a virtual necessity during trying economic climes like these. The terrible thing of it is that, were I the least bit more trusting earlier this week, when my car sat in the shop, I would’ve been needlessly, foolishly out a couple hundred extra bucks. So, the Carney Radar. Tomorrow. Set on max. I’d like nothing more than to walk through the proverbial midway untouched, but should there be a man with gills or something urging me to shoot the ducks to win a prize, I will be prepared.