The conversation I just had went something along these lines:
Male Coworker: You know, it would be nice if we got to see the pictures they took of us before they go projecting them onto a two-story screen in front of the entire company.
Me: I assume a big part of why they don’t let just anyone access the employee photos archive is that they’re all high-res images. I mean, can you imagine what my pal Photoshop and I could do to some of the more loathsome people around here?
Female Coworker: What, you could make them look fat or something?
Me: Oh, you have no imagination!
Female Coworker: Something with a dog’s ass?
Me: Well, that’s a little better. Of course, the thing about high-end photo manipulation is that you need to be able to stare for hours at whatever images you’re working with. And depending on Fido’s age and diet, the length of time the average person can gaze at his butt-hole can be rather limited.
Male Coworker: Political subversion would be pretty brutal. Imagine having to Photoshop Cheney cavorting on a nude beach with Paul Wolfowitz, reminiscent of Lancaster and Kerr in From Here to Eternity. A job like that could really damage you.
Me: Exactly. It’s the single biggest reason I can think of for not making a career digitizing porn. After a while, your whole world would be reduced to endless layers of nothing but damp, prickly beef.
Female Coworker: A doctor friend of mine felt the same way. He said that after completing his gynecology classes, he knew he’d never want to look at that all day, every day.
Me: Wouldn’t be special anymore. It’d be like a word you’ve repeated until it’s lost all meaning.
Male Coworker: Ferrari mechanics have the same problem.
Male Coworker: Yeah. Working on beautiful cars all day, but never getting to drive any of them.
Me: It’d be more accurate to say the mechanic can’t appreciate his own Ferrari after spending all day looking at old, broken-down ones.
Female Coworker: …
Male Coworker: …
Me: What!? What’d I say? Hey, where’re you guys going!?