Ever think about your upcoming high school reunion, you know, all those people you knew back when you were all really stupid and full of raging sex hormones and as-yet unfulfilled future dreams of glory and conquest which as an adult you now realize remain unfulfilled?

Let’s face it, high school wasn’t for everybody.

There were two types of people in high school, those who everything they did turned to symbolic gold and they appeared in the yearly yearbook a hundred times in photos, the same overachievers, winning this trophy or that, for this sport or that, being president of this school club or that, the big men on campus, the football players, or the blonde vixen cheerleaders and then there was you—–a shy little runt with a dirty nose who didn’t fit in anywhere and who looked like you were six years old when the football players the Gods of the school looked like men.

Maybe your high school is having a class reunion but you can’t bring yourself to go because who wants to relive the most bitter and painful experience of your life? But did you ever think it might be an opportunity to gloat over all those “Big-Shots” in high school who never made it—–once they hit college they faded into a bigger crowd and they became nothing—just like you were.

The glory for them ended at high school. After that, the big men on the campus and the cheerleaders became just average adults most of them—–accountants, lawyers, truck repair men, housewives, parents—-and now they’re nothing more than you are.

Just a person.

If you don’t go to your reunion because you couldn’t stand these people and still can’t, you could send a MemoryTag greeting card to the event instead of going yourself. Simply take your smartphone and record a message using the patented MemoryTag app. Place your video on the card on the little patch. During the reunion, the people gathered there (your former classmates) open the card. Someone produces their smartphone and uploads the app, and plays back your message.

There you are telling them how you became a millionaire and own a fleet of yachts in the Aegean Sea (if it isn’t true don’t worry you can fake it. Wear a suit and tie and go to an expensive car lot and pose in front of a Maserati, acting like it’s yours).

They’ll never catch on.

In your greeting you say “Bradley, you were the six-foot-five wonder boy of the football team but never made college ball and today you’re what, a bookkeeper for a stationary store? Congratulations Bradley. I knew you would become something special after all you appeared in the yearbook 168 times always wearing a tie being the president of everything at the school and getting sports trophies and so it’s clear that along with your name—-Bradley—–your parents knew you were special. But why aren’t you a famous professional football star?”

Move on from Bradley.

“Oh Vangi, you were the golden vixen Venus of the cheerleaders and I saw your picture on Facebook. I can hardly recognize you (don’t say she looks like a dumpy little old lady you must avoid being overly cruel and leave them guessing). In a way, I’m glad I disgusted you (I had a booger in my nose that one time), and you didn’t feel I was worthy to speak to. In any event I met a former Miss Universe from Turkey to be my wife and today we’re very happy.”

Move on from Vangi.

“Oh Mort. You were the muscleman of the football team and remember how during the high school baseball season where you always played and I never did I just wore a uniform and sat on the bench all season because the coach was more interested in winning than he was in teaching baseball, and not interested in giving all the players a chance he only played his best nine players? Remember when I accidentally threw the ball close to your head that one time and you threatened to whip my ass and I was terrified. Pretty brave Mort to menace a kid half your size.

As you can see Mort I’ve grown bigger but Mort—–you never grew any more after high school. You’re still five-foot-eleven. What happened? You look exactly the same as you did except you’re grey now. I see you work in a truck repair yard, is that interesting, holding a greasy distributor cap? I wish you the best Mort.”

Then do an overall finale:

“I wish all of you at the gathering to know that it must be a high point for all of you, your high school years, because if you’re willing to relive three years of your life that happened so long ago, nothing else as important must have happened after that to you and so you want to relive it and I think that’s wonderful. I’m too busy to come as I have a United Nations conference to attend in Brussels—that’s in Belgium. But my heart is with you all.

High school taught me conformity, vapidity, stupidity, petty elitism and eventually sweet revenge. Don’t think it hasn’t been a pleasure—-it hasn’t.”

https://memorytag.cards/.

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