THE PRESTIGE (NOT FOR A DOLLAR, NOT FOR A NIKOLA).

I have been called a lot of names in my life. Frequently with humor, sometimes with condescension or affection, once in a while with irritation. But until this week, I had never had someone look at me with frustration and righteous fury and muster up the most demeaning, insulting name they could think of:

"You...you..."
he scrambled for the perfect insult.
"Daddy...you're being like...NIKOLA TESLA! Ha! Yeah, you're Nikola Tesla. Nikola Tesla, Nikola Tesla, Nikola Tesla!"

He looked around for non-existent affirmation, and I waited somberly for him to re-catch my eye, at which point I thanked him for the world's greatest compliment, sat him down, and treated him (again) to my explanation concerning the genius of Mr. Tesla, and how he was kind of like Thomas Edison, only smarter, albeit less business-savvy, more eccentric, and slept four hours a night.

He listened quietly, and I think he regretted his decision, but I don't know for sure. If you're going to insult me historically, then you're going to have to know your history better than the person you're insulting, so I'd like to think that's a lesson he learned.

Now if he had called me Galileo Ferraris, we might have had a different conversation.

Good night, and just know that if you sleep more than four hours tonight, you might be wasting part of your life.