Etc.

Yes, Scott, said Rebecca. We were at her place. Rebecca is a research librarian and I am a series of tubes, so what we talk about together is data—sorting it, viewing it, eating it. We talked about starting a company, an organizing organization with an aluminum office. Our agency would promise to apply the latest library science and Semantic Web principles to each client's need for structure. Bring us all of your receipts, manuals, press clippings, laptops, and un-replied-to emails, we'd say. We'll make sense of it all! And then we'd dump the whole pile in the trash, and each client would be charged $1,000 and handed a golf pencil and a lined notebook as a parting gift, problem solved. “Think less,” we'd advise. “Do less.” Once the word got out there would be thousands of people begging us to take them on. After a year or two we would just leave the company, stop answering the phone, and forget about the office rent.

“You're both nerds,” Scott had said. “And yet neither of you are rich.”

Rebecca said, Yes, Scott. Her cat Rockstar sniffed my hand.

“Let's watch it again,” said Scott. So we gathered around the computer and watched the Donnie Davies video for the sixth time.

“I just can't get enough,” said Scott.

“Me neither,” I said.

“It's okay to be funny again,” said Scott. “This video grants us permission.”

“It does,” I said.

“So,“ asked Scott, “why aren't you funny?”