As is well known amongst the people who have had this information forced, repeatedly, down their throats, I was required to become a Harry Potter fan recently.
Well, it wasn’t so much as “required” as it was “suggested”; but you know me! Something new I need to see? Where is it? How long will it take to get there? Will there be room for others?
And so a friend at work loaned me the first four books.
Since overcoming the Swine Flu, however (with which I was confined to The Sty for a full two weeks), the time I have to sit still and read has declined, and I’m stuck in Book Four.
But that’s not important.
What’s important is that one of the ideas in these books has seized my excitable little brain, and I must share it with you.
In the books, the children are divided, upon arrival at boarding school, by the Sorting Hat. Placed upon their heads, the Sorting Hat reads their minds and tells them, aloud, which “house” they will belong to – their home away from home.
We need one of those. We need the Sorting Hat.
Don’t know if your boss is feeding you a line of BS? Sorting Hat!
Questioning whether or not the guy who just said, “Aw, come on! I was just kidding!” was really “just kidding”? Sorting Hat!
Wondering whether or not your own intentions are trustworthy? Sorting Hat!
But why put limits on these things?
What about Sorting Pants? Would they tell you whether or not you’re still the size listed on the tag, make snide comments regarding not being Sorting Tourniquets? Or maybe they would tell the big lady in the Spandex roaming the skyway on the way to Target that the time for wearing Spandex – if there ever was one – has come and gone?
Better yet, how ‘bout Sorting Doors? It was below zero when I left for the bus this morning, yet there was a man at the stop in loafers, a leather jacket, no hat, no gloves. His front door should’ve stopped him. “Sir, you are ill-equipped for the weather and are in danger of irreversible harm to your flesh. You shall not pass.”
For some reason, the doors in my head all have English accents.
I don’t know. It’s just one idea among many.
Still. Sorting Pants. I just like the sound of it.
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