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Random Guy...Yeah, You Know Him...
Like most guys in Lemon County, I like to feel that I'm pretty dialed in. I read the articles, watch the shows, and get the right info, and with the Internet at hand, can pretty much figure anything out. So why do guys listen to that "Random Guy?”
Random guy can be found lurking in all guy-centric areas of life. You'll always find one in the games aisle at Best Buy, for example, or next to the tool section at Lowes, or on car dealership lots.
He blends into his surroundings and is never accompanied by women or children; the only thing he has is time.
And very strong opinions.
Let me clarify. I want to buy a new TV, for example. I have a few questions in my head of the “how big,” “plasma or the other thing,” variety, and I look for the oldest, least-pimpled youth in a blue vest.
I will usually fail in my search for a relatively mature (over eighteen) “sales executive”, but, by simply standing in front of the TV's, it appears that I am inadvertently telegraphing a desire to have a conversation with Random Guy. You first become aware of him as a disembodied voice, as it is considered OK to keep looking at the object to be purchased.
"So, you're thinking plasma, then?" he'll begin.
You mumble something like, "Well, yeah, I guess." Because it is a challenge, to the very root of your masculinity, not to know all there is to know about everything on the planet.
RG then has a sharp intake of breath, "Buddy of mine bought plasma, blew his house up. I've got a 90 inch Syatakamoto myself, hard to find, but, well, you know, it's better than having your house explode."
The fact that RG is talking patent nonsense, and you know it's nonsense, does not stop you listening to him, and his words bleed into your common sense area (admittedly small, in the male of the species) and pollutes it.
Random Guy walks away, and helpful child in blue vest arrives.
"Sir (dig on age), I see that you are looking at the 50-inch plasma; finest piece of equipment in the store," he opines.
And in your head, you're going, "but this guy I know, his buddy had one blow up his house," even though you know it's idiotic. So you mumble at helpful guy, walk out of the store, and buy the Vizio at Costco, just like everyone else.
Now that you can put a name to him, you realize that Random Guy is everywhere. There are even subsets, like sports Random Guy, car expert Random Guy, and possibly the worst version of all, expert on women Random Guy.
Unsolicited advice from un-credentialed nobodies. We need a defense mechanism. Feel free to use me for this, if you like. You know, "I read this guy’s blog and..." with the conclusion that Random Guy is, thus, an idiot, as he does not even know about my blog, which infers that all his other information is bogus.
It works. A buddy of mine tried it, and his Random Guy’s head exploded....
Dear Hub Reader
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Homo Domesticus; A Life Interrupted By Housework,
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