You don’t have to be crazy to work here, but it is one of the few places where a crazy person can get a fair shake in the interview.

We’ve always looked up to a certain kind of slacker. Not the run-of-the-mill, garden-variety, everyday slacker who just doesn’t get enough work done. That kind is lame. That’s the kind we are. There’s no glory in that. It requires no panache. That’s just sloth. And not the fun kind of sloth like from THE GOONIES, either.

No, the kind of slacker we respect is that guy whose elaborate work-evasion schemes require much more labor than the tasks he’s trying to avoid. This guy’s not lazy; he’s a kind of performance artist. Or maybe a revolutionary. Anyway, he’s cool.

Not everybody shares our admiration, of course. Once, in high school, we unsuccessfully argued on behalf of such a slacker that creative cheating on a physics test was every bit as valid a demonstration of problem-solving skills as an honest A grade would have been. Mr. Goddard was not convinced. (You probably won’t believe that our high school physics teacher was named Mr. Goddard, but it’s true.)

He probably wouldn’t have gone for the USB Panic Button either. What it does is it activates a preset screensaver that looks like real work—so when your boss walks by your workstation, instead of wondering why you’re always on Facebook, he or she will wonder why you’re always slamming that big red button.

Genius, we say. It’s so ludicrous it deserves to work.

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