the american cube life mentality.

I am a Dilbert convert.

When Dilbert first started bludgeoning the public consciousness, I was about fifteen years old, about the same time I learned the meaning of the word "ubiquitous." (noun. existing or being everywhere, esp. at the same time. Geez, that Dilbert guy is freakin' ubiquitous these days.) The characters did not contain
themselves to the funnies, but instead were suddenly on shirts, posters, stationery, lunch boxes, all prominently shown on the aisle end displays at Wal-Mart. This was new! This was hip! This successfully captures the American cube life mentality!

I didn't get it.

I tried, really I did. The funnies were pretty much the only part of the newspaper that I actually read, and so when a new comic strip came along and was the new funniest thing ever, I paid attention. And at that age, mass merchandising was still an indication of quality to me, so it followed in my mind that Dilbert must be good. One day, I read a strip. The next day, I read another. They were moderately amusing. But they were funny in the way that Cathy or Doonesbury were funny. Basically, I stopped reading Dilbert because it did poorly in the funny to words per strip ratio. There just was not enough amusement gained from reading as many words as there were. Sure, I still read The Family Circus, but it only had about seven words a strip. I can read seven words to be maybe-a-little-bit-kinda-not-really amused.

Fast forward several years to 2005, my first year out of college, out in the real world. I was working at a small software company, writing diagnostic tools for truck mechanics. I still loved to write code, but not a day passed where something didn't happen that would make me say, "This is not like school." I was exhausted by 9 PM, I became a raging caffeineoholic, I thought about 401ks. Adulthood hit me hard.

And Dilbert suddenly was funny.

How had I missed this? I read a strip now and it seems inconceivable to me that I was ever the kind of person who would dismiss it as not being worth the effort of reading. I remember being that person, but I can't remember how. I talked to other people my age in scared whispers, "Do you sometimes wake up at 7 AM on a Saturday? Are coffee breaks the best part of your day? Do you get Dilbert now?" And they did. They all did.

It's a bit scary and depressing really, like maybe relating to a comic strip solely about Oedipus might be. I try not to dwell on that. I just enjoy the daily strip and have my chuckles without stopping short and saying, "Dear Lord, this is my life." I understand Dilbert now, and that's okay. It doesn't have to be a mid-twenties crisis. Maybe my new-found appreciation of Dilbert is a sign of maturity.

Or maybe Scott Adams just got funnier.