The year was 1992 and my girlfriend Jen had just just called me a pig. I grinned at her because she was right. She usually was when making a porcine assessment of me. I wonder whatever happened to her.
On this particular occasion, it was because of an idea I told her about that would revolutionize television coverage of the Olympics. We were watching women’s gymnastics, which as we all know allows folks with certain (ahem) tastes to check out underage girls bending themselves into unnatural positions without running the risk of ending up on a sex-offender registry.
What I proposed was a “beam cam.” Think about it. All those people watching the balance-beam competition were deprived the chance to see a beam’s-eye view of the forbidden fruit at the point of impact. With my invention, the event could boast a 100% viewership, at least among those who watch with their hand down their pants.
Looking back, I should have patented the device. The major networks, fearing a killjoy outcry, might not have gone for it but if they had, I would have established my claim to fame. As things stand, “Dave Jennings, he could hold his liquor (sometimes)” is all I can hope for as an epitaph.