Curious about my current popular appeal, I googled my “worldwide search interest number” and found it to be somewhat lower than Crohn’s disease; but, on the positive side, several points higher than sponges, neither of which would make a good name for a rock group, which grab many of the top spots alongside sports phenoms, murderers, moguls, brainiacs, and assorted film stars and Iranian immigrants, who share the honor with 99.9% of humanity in being profoundly unaffected by my cultural influence.

If they’d give me a half a chance, I would eagerly remind the number-compiler algorithms of the numerous earth-changing ideas I’ve co-opted over the years, my favorite being covering cars with layers of foam to protect all concerned from insurance agents. The sponges had about two billion years of evolution to come up with that one themselves but may have understandably feared for their lives, an emotional state that tends to sabotage one’s searchability.

While not as terrified as a sponge might be strapped to the hood of my Aunt Marthena’s careening, 4,000 pound Buick, I confess to being viscerally afraid of popularity. How else could I justify my abysmal rating? For one thing, I’m wary of too much scrutiny, like the novelist after a hot first book or the aging stylist who sleeps with her makeup on. Being out of it provides at least a moderate cushion against the head-on collisions inherent in fortune and fame.

Not to say I haven’t wracked my brain for ways to better my googlehood, but I’ve yet to figure out how to pull something off on a grand enough scale without crossing the yellow line between fabulous and infamous, which brings to mind Uri spoon-bending Geller and Bernard made-off-with-our-future Madoff, who, I’m convinced, started out with little more than sneaky intentions but were seduced to extremes by humanity’s fixation on something for nothing. In other words, their fearless fall from grace was caused by people like you and me, which is why they both remain embarrassingly search worthy, despite having two of the worst possible names for a rock group.

Bio: Jack Cooper