Real Genius

"Aw, Kramer, what have you done this time?"

The word “genius” gets tossed around a lot these days, to the extent that I feel like the meaning is beginning to change. I consider a genius to be someone who has contributed something groundbreaking and amazing to the world – Albert Einstein, Jonas Salk, any given member of Styx. However, these days the title is getting handed to just about anybody, regardless of how many vaccines they’ve invented or power ballads they’ve composed.

I’d say there’s a lot of geniuses at work at Apple. Steve Jobs, in spite of his Darth Vaderesque personality and (current) appearance, is probably a genius. The guy who thought of the iPod? Genius. The guy who looked at the iPod and decided that it needed not only a phone but also an Internet connection, making it possible to discreetly watch porn on the bus? Genius, possible pervert. Those guys are deserving of some sort of professional accolade, besides, y’know, their impressive salaries and stock options and all. But the only people working at Apple who actually get the genius title are not, by their nature, geniuses.

When your washing machine breaks, you call a repairman. When your car breaks, you take it to a mechanic. When your MacBook breaks, you take it to the Apple Genius Bar. Now, to me, Genius Bar sounds more like a sort of singles club where MENSA members hang out once they’ve finished driving buses and pumping gas for the day. In fact, this is a room full of Apple enthusiasts who are very eager to help you fix your computer and possibly discuss the next season of Battlestar Galactica.* Their job title is “Genius.” That’s what they put on their taxes – Professional Genius.

*Coming from me, that’s a good thing.

Even for Apple, with its rich and vibrant history of egotism and unfiltered douchyness, this is a fairly presumptuous move. Apple is, after all, the company that creates aesthetically pleasing computers that run very well with artistic programs like Photoshop and come with rudimentary music mixing software. Die-hard Apple patrons generally turn their noses up at spreadsheets and listen to Celtic music overdubbed with whale calls. They don’t vote out of protest for the Electoral College and fully 80% of them live in Seattle, the bastards. Apple has now given them something to aspire to, a Jedi order if you will – become enough of an expert with Apple products, and you too can become a Genius™.

I feel as though a true genius is somebody who does something original that the world never saw coming, like Styx’s groundbreaking 1977 single “Come Sail Away.” An Apple Genius does not create anything new; he or she really just fixes something groundbreaking that somebody else created. Today, a Genius replaced the plastic casing on my girlfriend’s MacBook. To his credit, the new casing looks great, and it isn’t damaged like the old casing, but as far as the work of a genius goes I really don’t feel like this compares to The Origin of Species or anything. On the other hand, this guy had a braided beard, and I don’t think Darwin could really pull that look off.

That being said, something being groundbreaking doesn’t necessarily make its creator a genius, although I’m sure the managers of DinnerInTheSky.com would beg to differ. Dinner In The Sky is a company with a remarkably specific product – for a vast sum, they will use a giant crane to hoist a modified dinner table 50 meters above a given location so that up to 22 people can have a dinner that is in the sky. This will supposedly enrich everyone’s lives greatly and ensure business success for the creative and engaging executive who opts to have his next high-powered business lunch 50 meters above downtown Saginaw.

I feel like this company came to be because its creators needed a business plan for their Future Business Leaders of America tournament and decided to try and replicate something they’d thought of while smoking pot and watching infomercials. I can’t think of any reason why it would be desirable to pay an astronomical amount of money to eat what is probably sub par food in an open environment that is completely at the mercy of the elements and whatever ballsy seagulls happen to be in the area. Also, it’s at least 50 meters away from the nearest bathroom, which is a bad idea no matter how you slice it when you’re suspending people in midair and pouring them wine. I imagine that Dinner in the Sky would only be a great venue for a Lehman Brothers stockholders conference, as participants wouldn’t have to look too hard for a good way to commit suicide once they find out about their life savings.

Yes, the idea is innovative, and nobody has ever done anything like it before, but in some cases things have never been done before because they’re really just not a good idea. Nobody’s ever tried to fill the Grand Canyon with whip cream, but that doesn’t mean it’s something we ought to try. Of course, that would make it possible for me to go swimming in whip cream, which has always sort of been a personal goal of mine… Still, no, not a good idea – if we’re going to start filling things with whip cream, we should start smaller and work our way up. If we just start filling things with whip cream willy-nilly, that could quickly get out of hand.

Right, anyway.

We need to reign in the terminology that we use. Apple employees are not geniuses, they are people who are good at fixing computers. The creators of Dinner in the Sky are not geniuses, they’re just two guys with a crane and a table. Dr. Phil is not actually a doctor, he’s just a prick. Save these terms for when they’re really necessary; otherwise, the real geniuses won’t get as much credit as they deserve.

And God help you if you deprive Styx of credit.

Dinner in the Sky may actually be a great idea, but Truman Capps has hella vertigo.