There’s this scene in the 80s remake of “The Fly” where Jeff Goldblum — this quirky, eccentric scientist — explains he has five sets of the same outfit in his closet so he never has to expend brainpower deciding what to wear. When you’re a mad scientist, you need to spend all your heavy thinking on more noble causes, like how to accidentally turn yourself into a giant, dung-loving insect.

Makes sense — the outfit part, at least. I think of that scene every time I get ready for a trip. Or more importantly, pack for a trip. Because in my mind there are few things worse in the world — maybe a beaver trimming my toenails — than packing.

Mind you, I love to travel. You give me a chance to take a trip and I’m halfway through airport security before you can say, “if you want a seat with a seat belt, that’s an extra $25.”
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The Internet is making me dumb.

I be dumb thanks to the Internet. Damn, you, Internet, damn you!

Not it fault, I know.

We’re to blame really. The Internet is just a … well … what the heck is it? Microchips and wires? Bits and bytes? A fancy box with endless photos of dogs dressed like Darth Vader and generic Viagra ads?

Truth is, the Internet is a vast catalog of searchable information, 98 percent of which will turn your brain softer than the carved pumpkin dissolving into a puddle of goop on my front porch.
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