Normal Guys and Normal Wishes: Ask a Genie

Welcome now our faithful genie, with advice for another supplicant.

Dear Genie,
I don't know if it was you, but somebody did a grave disservice to my daughter. A year ago she was right on track, working her way through Northwestern, getting better grades than her old man ever did. Where is she now? I'll tell you—Iceland. In a one-star restaurant, making the most stomach-churning "food" you can possibly imagine. She brought home a jar of gelatinous, decaying goo, proud as anything. The fumes were so putrid I couldn't stay in the room. Any sane person knows what you do with rotten shark meat.

I don't know what money she's living on. She must have had a momentary fancy—she's prone to those—and some asshole granted the stupidest wish any human being ever made. Is it that hard to say no to a vulnerable kid, and tell her to make a regular wish? For God's sake, what's wrong with a normal life?
Signed,
A Regular Dad

Dear Metamucil Man,
You're not alone. There are dads like you in every part of the world, who just want normal lives for themselves and their children (and everyone else in their country, and, while they're at it, the world.) These are Standard Guys. They want the standard things. You could group Standard Guys into two camps: the ones who live by some external rule, and the ones whose opinions are the rule. But their trains all arrive at the same station. A Standard Guy possesses a list of standard things to want. Any pursuit that's missing from his list is a non-standard activity. Anyone who holds such a goal is a non-standard person.

Here's the funny thing: I get to see their lists, and no two Standard Guys ever worked from the same notes. The only thing they have in common is the unquestioned belief that their viewpoint should be mandatory. In fact, I'd guess that Standard Guys are closer to the fringes than the average Joe. They're as different from each other as you can imagine, with a few exceptions:

• Standard Guys all want long, healthy lives for themselves and their loved ones, just like everybody else.
• Standard Guys are never queer, regardless of any contrary evidence. Nor are they found in the least-appreciated local class or caste.
• Standard Guys can't stand anyone who is vulnerable and unusual.
• Standard Guys like fishing.

And that's where it ends. Standard Guys are communists, capitalists, rationalists, socialists, libertarians, and committed non-joiners. They're Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, Jews, Hindus, pagans, deists, spiritualists, agnostics, and atheists. They're not all guys, if that's not obvious. They're in government, in management, in the trades, and in the trenches. They're jocks, goths, metalheads, motorheads, nerds, wonks, Swifties, and drifters. They won't eat melons. They only eat melons.

Their standards are as arbitrary as a whim. Their wishes are weird, but they don't believe it.

Give me the glorious weirdos who know they're out on their own. Like the kid who wished for a row of tiny teeth inside his nostrils—he knew. The vagabond who wanted a Nimbus Laser, to draw shapes in the clouds—they knew. The girl who couldn't explain her taste for hákarl and hangikjöt, but could explain her apathy for business school—she knew, too. (Guilty as charged, I'm afraid.)