Thank you, Christopher Walken, for arming me with the only mental image guaranteed to save me from an epic impulse buy. 

I spent the day yesterday trying desperately to avoid experiencing with any of my senses the official grand unveiling of the Apple Watch. I would pull up Twitter and glance through slatted fingers at my feed. Forcing my eyes to dart away from any Tweets using the words “Apple,” “Watch,” or “Tim Cook,” and any words that rhyme with those words or could operate well in a sentence with any of those words. 

I refused to allow that image of the Dick Tracy-esque watch face containing what look like mini-Skittles to penetrate my consciousness. I am above being manipulated by smart people who have conjured up smart design paired with theatrical introductions. 

Except that I’m not. 

I wasn’t even at the Apple Watch unveiling. And yet I had the same rubbernecking feeling the circus sideshow barker instilled in me at The New York State Fair 35 years ago: 

“Step right up folks! Watch the ‘Human Blockhead’ pound a ten-penny nail straight into his nostril! See the ‘Two-Headed Cow!’ Alive! Alive! Alive! Thrill to the sight of “Gabora,” the scantily-clad girl who’ll change into a man-eating gorilla right before your very eyes!” 

Open-mouthed, I mindlessly held out a fistful of ride tickets to said barker, not counting them or even caring that I had just forked over my entire allotment for the day. 

I had to check out that Gabora!

Fast forward nearly forty years, and I found myself yesterday muttering, “I have to check out that Apple Watch!” Even as I self-righteously spun my Twitter feed in search of a single iPhone screen devoid of ten-penny nails and unhappy bovines. Practically drooling. 

That’s when I called up “Captain Koons” from the recesses of my memory banks. More specifically, Christopher Walken’s “Gold Watch Monologue” from the movie Pulp Fiction.  I’ll spare you the details of the narrative, though you’re welcome to check out the Youtube link yourself. 

The net result, for me, is a total cessation of an otherwise uncontrollable impulse to queue up outside my local Apple Store, poised to bust through the glass doors amidst a moshpit of early adopters. My ride tickets live happily and wholly unperforated in my front pocket. 

At least for today. 

Thanks for reading.