I’ve realised that I possess a frightening amount of non-marketable, non-transferable and non-useable specialist knowledge. A small fraction of it is a professional knowhow which hypothetically might be useful but practically is not.
Sure, I could edit your bibliography with absolute precision in Chicago Style with my eyes closed, standing on the chair and reciting Baudelaire’s “The Carcass” in a Czech translation while drunk (that explains the recitation), but what’s the point? There is roughly 1 per cent of relevant world population who could tell and appreciate the quality of my Chicago, out of which 99 per cent are the creators of Chicago Style. The remaining 1 per cent is me and a few other sad individuals who effectively excluded themselves from the pleasure of reading anything without editing it. You wouldn’t believe what an editorial mess even academic publications by reputable publishers are.
The largest part of my useless knowledge comprises bizarre titbits (not bits of tits, though that’s my mnemotechnic aid for remembering this odd word, also spelled tidbit in American English), which I must have unwittingly collected from the depths of darknet. My brain has a unique super skill in detecting and engraving with the sharpness of steel anything obscure and obscene and anything that is of no use to anyone ever. For example, the other day when I was procrastinating on FML, I realised with horror that I was fluent in English Internet slang. I don’t mean the usual LOLs and WTFs, I mean acronyms so arcane with meanings so outrageous that I shall not quote them on a public blog. I added to the word bank an acronym of my own: ISBW = I should be working. Because, you know, ISBW.