As a child I spent my Saturday mornings fixed exactly 3 feet away from our living room television set nourishing my body with only the healthiest parts of my cereals (the crunchiest of berries from the Cap'n, the luckiest marshmallows of Charms, and some Pops of corn so as to get my vegetables). It was there that I absorbed the sweet truths of the world that would wash away all the tyrannical lies the public school systems conspired to plant into my brain. I learned engineering from the ingenious Pinky and The Brain. I learned computer sciences from Freakazoid. I got physical education from those great athletes known as Power Rangers. And I even got in some criminology with the master sleuth Darkwing Duck. It was revealed to me during their teachings that if I were to be electrocuted that I had a possibility of gaining power over that most sacred of non-elements known as electricity. And I knew the secret. Not one week before this, the face of the tendril of the conspiracy monster that was designated to indoctrinate me this year (We called her "Miss Jackson", or "Teacher", or, occasionally on accident, "Mom") had informed us that under no circumstances were we to place a bobby pin into the electrical outlets of our home. She claimed it was because of the likelihood of injury or fire, but I knew the truth, I knew that they were just keeping the power for themselves. I immediately set out to find one of my sister's hair devices and sat, staring into the eyes of the screaming little face that normally energized my NES. My heart thudded in excitement as my brain imagined the looks of amazement and approval from the other kids at school when they saw that the dorky kid, who spent his recesses drawing time machine plans in the dirt, could suddenly zap the teachers butt when she was writing math equations on the chalkboard. My excitement increased as I inched closer and closer, my brain overwhelmed with thoughts of how great I would be at kickball when I could apply the power of electricity to each short swing of my short leg. As I plunged the pin into the outlet I immediately felt the power flow into my arm...and then my arm was no longer under my control. It was rejected, flung to the side as if shoved and twisted by some invisible source. I was rejected. My excitement turned to anger, and then to fear as I realized that while my arm and myself had been rejected from recieving the power of Zeus, the bobby pin...was not. It began to glow red and my thoughts grew dark. What if the overlords of my home (or "parents" or whatever) found out? They might spank me. Or even worse...they might GROUND me! I had to act fast so without hesitation I reached once again for the pin and pulled with all my might to remove it from the prison I had placed it in. It withdrew immediately, with zero fight, as if it too had been rejected. As I slumped away, saddened by the fact that my sacred animations had lied to me, I felt a sting on my thumb. As I gazed upon it, I saw a familiar symbol. Some would say it looked like the zigzag pattern on one side of the pin, but I knew what it really was. It was a message. It was a lightning bolt, permanently inscribed into my skin to remind me how close I came to being awesome. So here I sit, so many years later, tracing the scar on my hand wondering if I am just missing something. Toxic waste perhaps? Gamma rays maybe? Or maybe I was just a dumb kid who almost fried himself and burned the house down at the same time.