A recent dream:

I am working on a laptop. Several windows are open, the topmost of which is a letter of resignation. Clicking on another window reveals a website for an apartment rental agency in some faraway place. Clicking on another another window reveals a listing of full- and part-time night jobs in the same faraway place. Clicking on yet another window reveals the online registration page for a university nestled in the hills of the same faraway place.

I follow a link to my transcripts. The records indicate that I matriculated at this university in recent years, but I am running low on time to complete my degree. My grades are embarrassingly low. The registration page is already filled out; apparently I am about to sign up for 15 credit hours in the Fall 2012 semester. The “SUBMIT?” button blinks.

I break into a cold sweat. Apparently I am on the verge of quitting my job, going back to a college I don’t remember attending to complete a degree I don’t remember beginning after getting horrific grades in classes that I don’t remember taking, living in a cheap apartment and working night jobs to pay for the whole thing.

Why don’t I remember any of this? What would make me even consider uprooting my life for such an ill-considered plan? And how on Earth were my grades so awful?

Then I remember that I have a great job. I have money. I can do whatever I want. A calm settles over me. I close all the windows and shut the laptop. I am at peace…

…until my cell phone beeps: it’s the President. Again. I get up, push through the oaken double doors of my office into a massive dining hall, where he’s hosting dozens of dignitaries and diplomats.

An attendant pulls my motorcycle around. I hop on it and tell Obama to text me the details later. I rev up the bike, jump it up on the hundred-foot long dining table, and speed towards the floor-to-ceiling window at the far end. Some of the guests scream, some fall backwards in their chairs, some are stunned with awe. Fine china and crystal fly everywhere. I blast through the glass unscathed, off to my next assignment.

Let’s assume that the Bears can get into the playoffs with just three more wins. They’d be the fifth or sixth seed since they can’t realistically catch Green Bay for the division title. Three more wins, then they’re in the playoffs, then Cutler comes back, then they rattle off four quick and easy wins, including a blowout victory in Super Bowl XLVI against whatever hapless opponent the AFC has the audacity to put in the game.

Unfortunately, the Bears are starting Caleb Hanie, which makes the aforementioned championship run that much less likely. Instead of helping the Bears win three of their last six games, he seems more interested in throwing lots of interceptions, being way too indecisive in the pocket, and committing incredibly stupid penalties that kill last-second drives. Yes, he made some plays, just like in the NFC title game last year, but an “attaboy loss” is still a loss, and the Bears need to win now. Hanie is not the solution.

That leaves five viable alternatives, assuming the Bears don’t just throw in the towel and work on improving their draft position.

#1. Start Nathan Enderle. I don’t know who he is, but he’s on the roster as a QB, so start him instead of Hanie.

#2. Start Josh McCown. This is who the Bears picked up because Orton got snapped up by Kansas City.

#3. Sign some other veteran free agent QB. Start him.

#4. Give Cutler a crash course in throwing left-handed. Start him.

#5. Play without a quarterback. Go with two tight ends. Line up Forte, Barber, and Bell in the backfield. Run the ball over and over again. “But wait,” you might say, “that’s only ten players. Who’s the eleventh?” Great question. Throw an extra lineman in the backfield for extra blocking. Split Hester or Knox out wide and have Forte toss them one every so often to keep the defense honest. Throw Podlesh back there on third down, make the D have to worry about a quick kick. Or throw Briggs or Urlacher back there, see if it confuses the defense. Or maybe you sub out Bell and put Podlesh and Gould out there at the same time– is it a run, a field goal attempt, or a punt? Who knows?

Better yet, who cares? Whatever keeps Hanie off the field.

Today’s itinerary includes cake, then pizza, then more cake, then milk and cookies. Plus, I can finally publish a little something I’ve been working on for some time. Let me know what you think. Here goes:

My fellow Americans:

We live in troubled times. There are some who say America’s best days are behind her.

Twenty years ago, America looked to Bill Clinton for change. Twelve years ago, America looked to George W. Bush for leadership. Four years ago, America looked to Barack Obama for hope.

And these men let America down. But I say that America never needed them.

I say that America needs you.

And because America needs you, America needs me.

I am pleased today to announce my candidacy for the office of President of the United States.

Let me begin by telling you how I got to this point.

I was born thirty-five years ago this very day in a little town in New Hampshire called Nashua, on the night of a Presidential debate in February 1980. That night, in the debate hall, shortly after Ronald Reagan famously told a newspaper editor that he had paid for a microphone, my mother went into labor. Bob Dole delivered me, with George H.W. Bush assisting. I was swaddled in copies of the Nashua Telegraph and the Manchester Union-Leader.

My father, a young economist from Kenya, and my mother, an unwed teenager from Kansas, weren’t well-off or well-known, but shared a belief that in America, their son could achieve whatever he put his mind to.

I was named for my paternal grandfather, the son of Italian immigrants and an architect, and for the priest who married my parents. Rose Kennedy baptized me, the Reverend Jesse Jackson christened me, and Joe Lieberman… well, Joe rendered his services.

Years ago, as a farm boy sitting outdoors with my family on the ground in the middle of the night, gathered close around a radio connected to the automobile battery, eating peanuts and listening to the Democratic and Republican conventions in far-off cities, I was a long way from the selection process. I feel much closer to it tonight.

As a teenager I heard John Kennedy’s summons to citizenship. And then, as a student at Georgetown, I heard that call clarified by a professor I had, named Carroll Quigley, who said America was the greatest country in the history of the world because our people have always believed in two great ideas: first, that tomorrow can be better than today, and second, that each of us has a personal, moral responsibility to make it so.

I moved to Chicago over two decades ago. I was a young man then, just a year out of college; I knew no one in Chicago, was without money or family connections. But a group of churches had offered me a job as a community organizer for $13,000 a year. And I accepted the job, sight unseen, motivated then by a single, simple, powerful idea– that I might play a small part in building a better America.

I’ve seen America from the stadium press box as a sportscaster, as an actor, officer of my labor union, soldier, officeholder and as both a Democrat and Republican. I’ve lived in America where those who often had too little to eat outnumbered those who had enough. There have been seven wars in my lifetime and I’ve seen our country face financial ruin in the Depression. I have also seen the great strength of this nation as it pulled itself up from that ruin to become the dominant force in the world.

I am a man who sees life in terms of missions– missions defined and missions completed. When I was a torpedo bomber pilot in World War II, they defined the mission for us. Before we took off we all understood that no matter what, you try to reach the target. There have been other missions for me– Congress, China, the CIA. But I am here tonight– and I am your candidate– because the most important work of my life is to complete the mission we started so many years ago. How do we complete it? We build it.

Much more than this, it is our aim to give to our country a program of progressive policies drawn from our finest conservative traditions; to unite us wherever we have been divided; to strengthen freedom wherever among us any group has been weakened; to build a sure foundation for sound prosperity for all here at home and for a just and sure peace throughout our world.

As President, I will adamantly defend every woman’s right to choose as well as every unborn child’s right to life.

As President, I will protect the Second Amendment and will protect national security and stop crime by getting rid of assault weapons and handguns.

As President, I will make Wal-Mart stop undercutting its competition by raising its prices, and make the gas companies stop gouging its consumers by lowering the price of gas.

As President, I will provide total financial and medical security to our senior citizens at no cost whatsoever to their children and grandchildren.

As President, I will eliminate the mortgage interest deduction, which has distorted housing markets, and replace it with a deduction for interest on mortgages, which will help make more Americans into homeowners.

One other thing I probably should tell you. A man down in Texas heard my wife on the radio mention the fact that our two youngsters would like to have a dog. And, believe it or not, yesterday we got a message from Union Station in Baltimore saying they had a package for us. We went down to get it. You know what it was? It was a little cocker spaniel dog in a crate that he’d sent all the way from Texas. Black and white spotted. And my daughter– the six-year old– named it Checkers. And you know, the kids, like all kids, love the dog and I just want to say this right now, that regardless of what they say about it, we’re going to keep it.

What I propose tonight is not new. It is as old as America, and as young as America, because America will never grow old.

You will remember when Thomas Jefferson said, “Let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself– nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance.”

Teddy Roosevelt reminded us that, “Constitutionally, gentlemen, you have the president, the vice president and the secretary of state, in that order, and should the president decide he wants to transfer the helm to the vice president, he will do so. As for now, I’m in control here, in the White House.”

And Woodrow Wilson said, “We shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.”

It’s time for us to change America. They have not led, we will. I still believe in a place called Hope, a brilliant diversity spread like stars, like a thousand points of light in a broad and peaceful sky, yielding only to morning again in America.

And read my lips: I will never lie to you.

I humbly ask for your vote.

I will do everything you’ve ever wanted your President to do.

Because I am you.

And together, we can be us again.

Thank you, and God bless America.

We accept unmarked, low-denomination cash only.

I elect not to keep certain information in my brain because there is (presumably) only so much room in there. For instance, there are several procedures at work that we repeat annually, such as testing, orientation, stuffing end-of-year envelopes, voting on certain measures, etc. I won’t remember how we did certain procedures last year because it’s easier to remember that there’ll be a memo explaining the procedure for this year. Another example: I probably can’t tell you the relative locations of some of the towns near my alma mater, because it’s simpler to remember which major road leads to which town. It’s all about saving space on the hard drive.

Upon watching the BBC’s recent Sherlock series, I was pleased to learn that Arthur Conan Doyle, via Mr. Holmes, had articulated a similar belief. Holmes only keeps information in his noggin if it helps him do his job. Thus, he claims not to know the identity of the current Prime Minister or whether the Earth revolves around the Sun, as neither fact would help him solve crimes (though a bit of esoteric knowledge about a fictional supernova just happened to prove useful in a hostage situation). Great minds, me and Conan Doyle.

Then I recalled that another fictional character had made a similar observation about brain capacity, but I couldn’t remember what character. I remembered she had to prepare for something, and was trying to retain only the most relevant information à la Holmes. Did some digging around on Ye Olde Tyme Internet, and…

…it was Kelly Bundy from Married with Children. She had to cram for a quiz show about sports, and since her brain was already full, every new fact displaced an old fact. She lost on the final question.

That was a bit deflating. Great minds, me and Conan Doyle and… Kelly Bundy.

A tongue-in-cheek article by A. Barton Hinkle claims that “Now We Know Why Children Are Getting Dumber.” In essence, it’s because the volume of knowledge keeps expanding. There’s always more literature out there to be pored over, there’s always more scientific innovation and discovery to help explain the natural world, and there’s always more history being made. Hinkle writes:

Same for history: They just keep making more of it. For the WWII generation, the Great Depression wasn’t history, it was current events. They didn’t have to learn about the civil-rights movement or Vietnam or Watergate or Reaganomics because none of that had happened yet. Today’s pupils not only have to learn all that more recent history, they will soon be learning the history of 9/11, the Iraq War and the Obama administration. And the cohort after that? Good luck to them, because they’re going to need it.

Reading the article brought me back to a recent discussion with some coworkers. They said that high school math stays pretty much the same, although some of the higher-ups keep trying to change how it’s taught. They said that high school science remains relatively stable, but does make adjustments to curriculum when discovery warrants it. But history, they said, keeps growing at a relatively constant pace of roughly one year per year. More if you consider that with an expanding population, there’re more people out there to make history.

I pointed out that happily, history teachers have a way around this– at least in high school survey courses. The trick is that our courses don’t cover the whole shebang. They aren’t supposed to. As time goes on, we thin out the beginning, shift around the middle, and tack a little bit more onto the end. The coverage of history in survey classes, I said, looks like a chi-square distribution. To wit (click to embiggen):

A history text can’t cover anything after its publication (until we start teaching via Kindles and iPads, and then there’ll be semantic debates over what truly constitutes publication). Recent history, say the last decade or so, gets pretty thin coverage because it’s too close to being “current events.” Then the coverage gets heavier and heavier, until you get to a few hundred years back, and it starts to thin out again. In later editions, you add another chapter at the end and merge chapters at the beginning– those bindings can only hold so much paper.

I own my grandfather’s high school history textbook, which ends with discussion about whether America would enter “The Great War.” I’ll flip through it on occasion for the older perspective on certain events, and to compare it to the textbook I use in my classes. Grampa’s book is much heavier on the period from 1650 to 1750, going into much greater detail about the wars between France and Britain and how they played out in North America. It also spends over 100 pages on the Civil War, which had ended barely 50 years before publication.

Current textbooks understandably trim that 1650-1750 period down to maybe two chapters and spend maybe 40-50 pages on the Civil War, because you’ve got to add in 100 years of new stuff– the Roaring 20s, the Depression, WWII, the Cold War, Elvis, etc. The last few pages of my 2002 edition of The American Pageant discuss the internet, David Mamet, 9/11, and the PATRIOT Act. The War in Iraq, Hurricane Katrina, the Red Sox, Obama and I are going to show up in the newer editions, and the 1600s will grow ever-thinner. But the shape of the curve will remain the same.

So there goes that excuse. Get to work.