Ron Popeil Move Over

So, I was lying there, in bed, at three-thirty this morning watching television and out of the blue they show this commercial for a company that promotes inventions…
Acme Inventor’s Club, I believe they called it, but I’m not sure. The guy was saying that if you had a new invention, or even an idea to make an existing product better to give them a call.
I called.
“Acme Inventor’s Club (or whatever),” the guy answered the phone.
“I have an idea,” I said.
“Go ahead,” he says.
“Well,” I continue, “you know how when you go out to a steak restaurant and they have the ten-ounce steak with baked potato and the sixteen-ounce steak with baked potato, and you really want the sixteen-ounce steak, but you just can’t afford it?”
After a pause, the guy at the inventor’s club says, “I’m listening.”
“Well,” I say, “if you put A-1 Sauce on the baked potato it’s like you’re getting more steak.” I stop waiting for the significance of what I’ve said to sink in with the guy. I’m wondering how much money I can make with this idea.
Finally, after what seemed like five minutes, the guy says, “That’s not an invention.”
“No,” I answer. I’m ready for this reply. “But, it is an idea to make an existing product even better.” I’m beaming by now.
“That’s not the sort of idea we were talking about,” he says rather gruffly.
“Why not,” I ask, now somewhat deflated, but not destroyed.
“In all my years working here,” he says, “that’s the most asinine idea I’ve ever had anyone call in with.”
“Agree to disagree,” I say and hang up. But, I’ll not be deterred. Thomas Edison’s light bulb was laughed at until someone invented a lamp to put it in. I got up out of bed, grabbed a pen and piece of paper and began to write down all the other ideas that course through my brain. After about an hour, I call the guy back.’
“It’s me again,” I say.
“This is my lucky night,” he says.
“Okay, what about this idea,” I say. “You know those hand buzzer gizmos?” I ask.
“You mean the prank thing where you shake a guy’s hand and the buzzer buzzes?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, thankful that he and I are beginning to make a connection. “Well, suppose you replaced the buzzer with a doorbell…”
“Wait,” he interrupts. “Your idea to improve an existing product is to take a hand buzzer and replace it with a doorbell? You are putting me on, right?”
“No,” I reply. “Think about it. Everyone knows the hand-buzzer. But, suppose someone came to your door and you opened the door and held out your hand, and they shook it and the doorbell went off. You could then say, ‘Excuse me, I have to get the door.’ Wouldn’t that be funny?”
“Is that all you got,” he asks.
“No,” I say enthusiastically, encouraged by his desire to hear more. You know those bow-ties that squirt water?”
“The kind clowns wear?” he asks.
“Yep, one and the same,” I say. “The problem is no one except clowns wear bow-ties. If you see someone coming towards you wearing a bow-tie, you know you’re going to get squirted.”
“So, you’re thinking that we should make a necktie that squirts,” the guy says.
“Whoa,” I laugh. “Did I call the Psychic Hotline or the Inventor’s Club?”
“Is that all?” the guy asks, ignoring my humor.
“You got time for another?” I ask politely.
“It’s a slow night,” he says. “Go ahead.”
“You know false teeth?” I ask.
“You mean the prank kind…the really ugly ones?” he asks.
”No, I’m talking real false teeth,” I say.
“Already invented,” he says. “Or do you have an idea to improve them?”
“Yeah, kind of,” I say. “I think it would be good to make false teeth blue.”
“You mean color them blue?” he asks. I can tell he’s interested. “Why would you do that?”
“Well,” I say, “suppose you’re dating this woman and she has false teeth, but you can’t tell. And, then you get married, and on your honeymoon night, the two of you are getting ready for bed and she just casually slips her teeth out. That would be a horrible time to find that sort of thing out.”
“I’m with you there pal,” he says, “but, why would someone want to wear blue false teeth. Wouldn’t that just advertise the fact that their teeth weren’t real?”
That question came at me from left field. I had to think for a moment. “Well, you could pass a law requiring it,” I suggest.
“We’re not in the legislation business,” he says. “If you’re done, I gotta run.”
“Wait,” I say. “One more.”
“Okay,” he says, “I’ll give you one more shot.”
“You know when you’re driving down the road and some truck driver gets right on your rear bumper and he has his brights on?”
“Yeah,” he says. “That really galls me.”
“Well,” I continue, “I think you could put a laser on your trunk and when that happens, you could turn the laser on, and maybe you’d even have some sort of way to control it, so you could burn the laser right into the guys eyeballs, maybe even destroy a retina or two. That would sure get him off your tail.”
“Hey,” he says, “you may be onto something.”
Long story short…I have a meeting with this guy from the Inventor’s Club. I can smell big bucks in my future.