If I had a Time Machine . . .

As an über loser, not surprisingly, I'm a big science fiction fan. One of the tried and true science fiction plot devices is time travel. Lord only knows why, but I started thinking about what I would do if I had a time machine. Would I travel back to the past to avert wrongs like the Lincoln Assassination, Pearl Harbor, or try and stop the Titanic from sailing? Return to September 10th, 2001 and try and warn the country? Punch Hitler? Natch. But being me, my thoughts soon turned from the good I could do with such a device, to the selfish goals I could accomplish for myself. Such as:

1. Return to late 2000 and warn my past self not to carry Bobby Rock's drum hardware up the steep back stairs of the music store I was working in at the time. Maybe I wouldn't have these herniated discs right now. (Oh, and tell past self to start exercising and lay off the pork tenderloins.)

2. Return to summer of 1995 when I was working as a pizza delivery driver and totally fuck up the asshat who got all pissy about putting his driver's license number on the check and asked me if I wanted his dong size on there, too. (If my post 2000 self starts working out as directed, I should be pretty ripped by now and should be able to take the meathead. If I'm still flabby, I'll just key his car.)

3. Return to May of 1998 and stop myself from selling my first car, a 1979 Ford Mustang. Convince my past self to spend the money I used to buy my second car on fixing the Mustang and getting it a decent paint job. Oh, and fixing the hole in the floor behind the driver's seat. My second car was a 1987 Ford Taurus that turned out to be the biggest piece of shit on wheels. Sure my Mustang was ugly as fuck, but at least it was a Mustang (In a Mad Max kind of way. And unlike the Taurus I could drive it in the rain without it stalling every few hundred feet.)

4. Return to May of 1994 and force my past self to ask out the chick who cozied up to me at the bonfire after high school graduation. Because I seriously don't know what the fuck I was thinking that night. Jesus Christ, I was such a goon. (And while I was there, tell my past self to actually fucking try hard in college. I'll bring video of my current job and show him posts from this blog. That oughta scare my douchey past self into putting his nose to the grindstone.)

5. Return to September of 2001 with a copy of Dan Brown's The DaVinci Code. Type it up and send it to an agent, get published, and invest my earnings in Apple just in time for the iPod to come out. Buy an island in the Pacific and retire there with Bonfire Girl.

6. Since this is a Cubs related blog, I've gotta go back to 2003. Not to strangle Bartman in his sleep before Game 5, but to knock out Larry Rothschild and take his place on the field. (I figure if I have a time machine, I would also have a futuristic hologram disguise thingy as well that would allow me to impersonate an old fat white guy. I'm already two of those things anyway, although I might be ripped at this point in the time space continium.). After the Bartman incident, I would convince Dusty to pull Prior and replace him with Juan Cruz, Big Z, or Matt Clement. Hopefully, one of them would get the game to Sweaty Joe, who would close it out and take the Cubs to the World Series. (And even if the Cubs lost to the Yankees, I could always come back in time again and fix whatever Baker fucked up in that series.)

7. In my one non-selfish act, I would go back to August 4, 1961 and take a picture of baby Barack Obama with his white mama in the Kapiolani Maternity & Gynecological Hospital in Honolulu, Hawaii. Although I guess technically that is a selfish act, because hopefully it would shut some of these birther retards up.




So that's what I would do with a time machine. So much for making the world a better place.