I'm the kind of guy who recognizes my weaknesses just as readily as I do my strengths. Sure, I only have a cursory knowledge of quantum physics, and I'd barely be able to distinguish a sub-prime loan from a Subway sandwich. But today while watching "Prison Break," I realized something. If I ever get sent to prison, I think I'd be really popular with the other inmates.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I wouldn't survive a day in prison. You probably think a bunch of hardened criminals would relish the chance to rip a guy like me to pieces. I couldn't disagree with you more. Please, don't let my thick-rimmed glasses and collection of corduroy jackets fool you. I can adapt to any given situation. Would you believe I once spent an entire winter in Eastern Europe sleeping on an air mattress next to a drafty window in a flat with no heat? And then there was that time I sat through an amazingly lifeless version of Eugene O'Neill's 4-hour long play, Long Day's Journey Into Night. I think I can handle a prison cell.

In fact, my success behind bars would begin with my prison cell. I’d make sure to bring some LP covers to hang on the walls, as well as backstage passes from various shows I've attended. You can't tell me prisoners wouldn't jump at the opportunity to pick my brain about the current state of the music industry. And as for those prisoners who aren't fans of rock music, I don't move anywhere without bringing along a couple of my favorite Doonesbury comic strips. They're hilarious and great conversation starters. We're talking major credibility points right off the bat.

You know, it’s no secret I'm a bit of a humorist myself. Over the years I've developed a reputation as a real cornball. I’m usually the first one out of the gate with a light-hearted pun or an obscure popular culture reference. I see myself surrounded by a group of prisoners hanging on my every word as I riff on the warden (A character straight out of Dickens), or the quality of the food in the cafeteria (I've had better food in the dimly lit hostels of Amsterdam!). With hilarious one-liners like those, I'd have those hardened criminals in stitches. And after they loosened up a bit, they’d probably have me in stitches, too. Figuratively speaking, of course.

But while my adaptability and sense of humor are nice, it's my genuinely inquisitive nature that is bound to earn me the respect and admiration of my fellow inmates. Thanks to my liberal arts education at a top tier private college, I'm a great conversationalist with broad interests. I think even the prisoners who might be intimidated by my confident demeanor and well-trimmed beard would respond nicely to my attempts to engage them in civil conversation. Plus, it would provide me with an opportunity to put my editorial skills to work as an impromptu grammar coach.

Finally, I think the other prisoners would respect me for not resting on my laurels in prison. Though the heaviest thing I’ve lifted in the past year is my dog-eared copy of "War and Peace," in prison I would take advantage of the opportunity to work on my physique. For example, I’m sure my fellow inmates would happily show me how to “clean and jerk.” Whatever that means.

And did I mention my interest in Native American history and collection of arrowheads is sure to make me an excellent shiv maker?

Granted, I've never been arrested, and though I enjoyed "Blood Meridian" by Cormac McCarthy, I do not condone violence of any kind. How then, you ask, would I ever find myself in prison? Well, if push comes to shove, I could imagine a situation in which someone not unlike myself might be unfamiliar with the age of consent in a given state, and therefore do something considered improper or even illegal in some societies. However, I’m sure prisoners would forgive any such lapses in judgment from an otherwise well-rounded and likeable individual such as myself.

Like I said, I know my weaknesses. I may not know much about professional sports, or how to defend myself in a fight, but one thing I do know is if I get sent to prison, I’ll leave with a couple of hundred new friends, a scrapbook filled with memories, and yes, probably some rectal tearing.