No-one knows what goes on behind closed doors. Or closed minds.

Despite the fact that my–and your–profusely exposed inner and outer Activities of Daily Living are splattered all over the Internet by way of

texting

blogging

blasting

podcasting

emailing

video-ing

snoopsurveilling

dronecamera-ing

TheTubing

radioing

streaming

hidden micing

loose lippitysplitting

snarky gossiping

tweetingsnapchattingfacebookingmessengeringinstagraminggooglinglinkiningmyspacingpinterestingsmaartphoningwechatting….

…despite having my heretofore secret life spreadeagled to the ethos for anybody–or nobody–to examine, there are still many cloistered corners of Me that are mine and mine alone–and you can’t access them without my permission.

You can’t hack most of my private being. Just try and see what doesn’t happen.

Take Garfield underpants, for example.

Many moons and suns ago, my family birthday-gifted me with a pair of Garfield underpants, decorated with hearts and Garfields. Not President Garfield, just Garfield the cartoon cat.

Life changed for me that day.

From then on, at least one day a week, I donned my Garfield underpants, put on the rest of my clothes, and set forth into the workday playday world to conquer or be conquered by circumstance or collusion, by accident or by conspiracy.

On my Garfield days, each time a crisis arose, I could handle it without losing it. If the chaos or confusion around me became extreme, I just looked inward, remembered the fact that out of sight of the wolves and bullies, my Garfield underwear could still make me smile.

I always knew something the attackers and whiners could not know. Garfield and I could get through the day unscathed, simply because we shared a secret goofiness that repelled all attacks of logic, overriding and distraction by others.

Some people were disturbed by my slight smile that could not be wiped away.

Some got more agitated the better I felt. Some took inspiration from my attitude and calmed down and began finding reasons to smile themselves.

And if anybody ever asked what my secret was, I had the option to share or the option to hold back. No pop-up or spam or privacy search could break through and try to market me into purchasing six more pairs of Garfield underpants.

If this worked, why am I revealing all this right now? I’m not telling, but here’s a hint–eventually, the Garfield underpants wore out and I had to find another secret way to fend off the hornets’ nests. Now I have a new tool for survival.

And the thing that makes me smile today is the fact that I’m the only person in the universe who knows what that is.

Time for you to go out and find some Garfield underpants for yourself. Keep a slight smile on your face and it’ll drive your enemies crazy while comforting your friends