My neighbor yelled at me because I put the garbage out two hours early.
The guy behind me in a shiny black Dodge Ram honked at me because I stopped at a stop sign.
The woman next in line in the supermarket growled because I was too slow digging out my credit card.
Merriam-Webster defines disgraced as a source of shame – losing favor or standing. What’s more shameful than daydreaming about The Fonz, blasting Neil Diamond on the car radio, or praying green stamps will return?
The more famous you are, the greater the disgrace. Think Rosanne and her tweets or Matt Lauer and sex. What about Sarah Huckabee Sanders at the Red Hen Restaurant or Bill O’Reilly getting fired? If all else fails, there’s the King of Disgrace, Harvey Weinstein.
There’s no shortage of disgrace but there is a solution. It’s called Disgrace Insurance.
Companies pay about $10,000 for every million dollars of Disgrace Insurance coverage. According to some of the most savvy business people, it’s increasingly popular. Misbehaving athletes, nasty-tweeting entertainers, and a host of celebs constantly putting their Jimmy Choos in their mouths are prime targets. Frank Zuccurello writes for CEG Worldwide, “disgrace insurance has become increasingly popular over the past few years for the financial flexibility it gives companies to protect their most valuable assets.”
What about the rest of us?
I want to be “forgiven” for enjoying House of Cards, singing Beatle songs in the shower, and recalling the good old days when movies came in double features not on Netflix.
Where can I buy protection for dreaming about pumping seltzer, needing a Charles Chips delivery, or yelling at robo calls?
There’s only one disgrace-proof person around: the above-the-law Orange Man in the White House. He gets away with everything.
“I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue,” The Donald brags, “shoot somebody, and I wouldn’t be arrested or lose any voters.”
For the rest of us it’s somewhat different. In these Trump-Effect times we’re disgraced as often as the President writes nasty tweets. It’s a popular sport. Who can disgrace you first, best, and fastest?
The big guys lose a lot from their disgraces. Kevin Spacey cost Netflix about $39 million. Charlie Rose was fired, and Bill O’Reilly was reduced to political commentary on his website for $5.95 a month – a bit less than his pre-disgrace $20 million salary from Fox News.
Since I don’t earn $20 million or have Disgrace Insurance, my town sent out an inspector to warn me that I would be fined $500 if I put out my garbage too early again. I got a $288 ticket for sliding through a stop sign even though the Dodge Ram was on my tail. The lady in the supermarket left the store in a huff, abandoning her groceries and receiving sympathetic looks.
Where was disgrace protection when I needed it?
Think of all the things we could do if protected by Disgrace Insurance:
We could use words like “cool” and “groovy”.
We could advocate for newspaper boys/girls on Schwinn bicycles.
We could tell our kids how to raise their kids.
We could adjust invisible rabbit ears on our TVs.
We could eat Ring Dings and Devil Dogs without shame.
We could save the day with The Lone Ranger.
So let’s get on it. Hi Ho Silver Away.