A Game of Belts

07/13/2012 09:33 am ET | Updated Sep 12, 2012

Like most of you who screw around reading stupid articles on the Internet instead of actually blazing a path towards greatness, I too yearn to reshape the world in my own image. Some people read magazines on the toilet, I bring in a legal pad and draw things that should be invented. Most of my inventions revolve around some aspect of a more comfortable toilet seat, but every so often a great idea emerges that is so earth-shatteringly profound, I call my wife in to share it with her. The lot of my so-called inventions she pooh-poohs, but every now and again, something doesn't get wiped away and it sticks with me for the duration.

What's got me all itchy today is not so much an invention as it is a notion: what if we all wore belts? Hear me out on this -- it's going somewhere. See, some of my ideas are not just mere inventions but more like conventions -- ideas for a more ideal society. The belt-wearing aspect is merely a function of a broader ideal.

My latest convention fixation is on streetfighting. Your modern streetfight goes something like this: Two strangers -- both men usually, unless one of the combatants is Chris Brown, are at a bar or some other social watering hole. A drink maybe gets spilled or someone says something incendiary about the size of the other's girlfriend's ass. However it may be, two people who have never crossed paths before suddenly decide to "put up their dukes" and engage in fisticuffs. Sometimes this happens in the bar, but more often than not, the two decide to make things proper-like and take it to the street. Likely, the less confrontational members of both tribes, along with a formidable populace of bar denizens, will spill out into the street as well, surrounding the men and creating an impromptu arena of sorts. The revelers will then drunkenly chant "Fight, fight, fight" until one of the men steps forward and unloads a haymaker that starts a cacophony of awkwardly flying fists that only sort of land at their intended target.

Now if it's a Burt Reynolds movie, the fight will end with both sides realizing that they can share the alpha male title and everyone will become best friends and buy each other drinks all night long. Also, a jukebox will get destroyed. In the real world, one fighter typically emerges as the winner and calm will be restored until the police show up. Then everybody scrambles and all that's left of the fight is the memory and maybe a shaky camera phone video that ends up on YouTube. Currently, the glory is in the victory, nothing more. But what if there were an actual prize? Enter that "belts" comment from earlier. I think that if you beat someone up in public, you should literally get to take their belt. I'm not talking about stealing it off of them while they are lying bloody and weeping in front of their shamed peers; no, they should freely give it up as a concession of defeat. Imagine going over to someone's house and their wall art is a collective of all the various belts they've won in hand-to-hand combat. If I'm a female, I'm making babies with that badass right then and there.

This could start a whole new industry -- imagine the sort of "collect them all" mentality that could be created from a dazzling array of sweet belts. If someone wanted to get in a streetfight, all they would have to do is wear the shiniest, best-looking belt and some other tough guy would display his own hardware and nobody's drink would get spilled and nobody's girlfriend's ass would get maligned.

The obvious comment on this whole thing would be from the feminists (because it seems that feminists and weirdos are the only ones who read my column) who would likely state that I am intending for the belt to be symbolic of a penis -- a visible extension of one's cock. Maybe the feminists are right, maybe they aren't. Either way, this column ends with me declaring that I've got a huge belt. Game on.