I have lost my mind/can’t seem to find that dang thing

The Uber-weenie on television last night, giving his parents what for: “All that I’m suggesting is that I get to watch television whenever I want,” he says, intoning in the most painfully nasal voice. It’s a very important part of my life, and inhibiting this portion of my life would be most disruptive.” His parents try and reason with him. Maybe the television-watching could be limited to nighttime, but that would present the logistical concerns of missing Mr. Rogers Neighborhood. “I will not stand for it,” the weenie keeps saying. “Absolutely not.” This is part of a PBS documentary about Asperger’s Syndrome, a condition which produces an uncanny dorkinator of a child who, while unable to hold a job or conversation with someone, seems quite adept at watching TV and hanging out all day. His parents have the lowest expectations for him, hanging onto the common thread of hope he will one day be able procure a job somewhere, which he invariably gets fired from one after another. One job he shows up for at 9:00 am and is dismissed by 10:30 after asking if he can go home and watch TV for a while. The scene then cuts back to him in his bedroom at home, flopping down on the bed for the mid-morning showing of Mr. Roger’s, which he reverently orates over: “Mr. Rogers understands our concerns,” he says. “He knows that the world is not perfect, and that things do not always work out the way we planned.” It is cracking me up in the nighttime, busting a gut past my bedtime. There really is no hope for this guy. And so that’s one person whose competency level falls at least slightly below my own. Although a little research points out that the person in question is actually the son of the editor in chief of The New Yorker and thus will in all probability get to live out his ultimate dream of hanging out all day and watching Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood—out-dorking even me.