It’s a brand-new year. In a few weeks, some young girl that you’ve never heard of will become a humongous star. About eight months into this, she’ll release some filthy song, star in some scandalous movie or pose for some risqué photos.

Next, she’ll do an interview, and the reporter will ask her, “So what were you like in High School?” On cue, she will answer, “Oh my gosh, I was such a geek.” This, “Oh my gosh, I’m such a geek,” answer is part of the “Show the public you’re just a regular person like them,” public relations package.

It is my hope that this particular public relations technique will soon be abolished.

In 2011, I hope to pass a journalistic bylaw that will require the young star to supply proof of this high school geekiness. Under the bylaw I hope to pass this year, the interview would go like this.

Girl: “Oh my gosh, in my high school days I was such a geek.”

Journalist: “Do you have any geek proof?”

At this point, the young starlet will clam up immediately and then slowly reveal that she was

• A cheerleader
• Dated the captain of the football team
• Starred in every school play

Why do I want to pass this bylaw? Well for one thing, I’m sick and tired of listening to this crap. The other reason is that I just so happen to possess the geek proof that the young starlet is lying about.

Now I’m not talking about baby stuff like occasionally hanging out at CNET to see what new software other geeks are creating. I’m not talking about being reprimanded by a friend for saying I was trying to raise my Jeopardy score. Thirty questions correct is not too shabby, but I can do better. For some reason, you’re not supposed to admit you watch jeopardy or that you have a high score. In the interview, I’ll keep my jeopardy score to myself. I won’t even try to win the sympathy of the interviewer by mentioning the red glasses. Never mind that for most of high school, I was known as Sally Jessy Raphael. All that is just baby stuff.

The geek proof I’m saving up is rock solid. The day after I reveal it, geeks will be saluting me in the streets. I’ll be sitting in restaurants and geeks will be sending me drinks from across the room. It wouldn’t surprise me if they pay for my meal entirely.

True geeks everywhere who know that geekiness isn’t a public relations tool will stand up and cheer. Lifelong geeks who know it’s not an afterthought after posing spread Eagle in FHM magazine will hold their heads high. Around the world, geeks will shut down their computers for one minute of silence to honour the truth of the moment.

David Letterman’s chair will go empty for months as actresses struggle to come up with the now required geek proof. Talent agencies will be forced to book their stars on tabloidy trashy shows that don’t demand geek proof. Ambitious geeks trying to get an edge will add a new section to their resumes for Geek proof. Employers will take notice.

This revelation will set an irreversible precedent that will put an end to these bogus interviews forever. If my plan works perfectly, oh if my plan works perfectly!  Somewhere out in Hollywood, a young actress will beg the paparazzi to take a picture of her holding a book.

 This article was originally published on January 21, 2011.