BY IAN SHOALES

now that Timothy Leary, demon/imp/guru/con-man, has passed on, where will we turn for scoundrels? Sure, we have the Reverend Al Sharpton, but he's a poor subsitute, if you ask me. Somehow I can't see the Reverend Al tripping his brains out, cavorting in a field of daisies with blissed-up hippies.

In the good old days, America was full of snake oil salesmen. The streets teemed with quick-talking "reverends," "doctors," and "professors." We had pamphlets, quack cures, dimwit ideologies, get-rich-quick schemes, and Three-Card Monte variations coming out our ears.

We still have initial public offerings, conspiracy theory videos, Internet UFO newsgroups, 900 numbers, and New Age Physics, but things are not the same. The wacky is now the mainstream. We have become a nation of bitter suckers, with not one but dozens born every minute.

Still, I look at our culture the way I look at a carnival midway. The worthless prizes may change -- from stuffed Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles to Barney the Purple Dinosaurs to the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers -- but the games remain the same rigged attractions they always were. The wizened carnies of summer may be replaced in the society-at-large by Powerbook- wielding marketing types, but their games too remain the same.

The latest scam seems to be "downsizing." We're supposed to believe that corporations must now shrink, like hemorrhoids, in order to sit comfortably on the new economy.

There's been much discussion about what to do with downsized workers. Republicans and Democrats agree that what the economy needs is new jobs.

What new jobs? Well, outside of the interactive media field, there actually aren't that many. And even workers in the world's Silicon Gulches are just doing digital versions of old jobs-- they're artists, engineers, writers, and musicians working together to build an edifice. Software is created the same way the Mafia once built casinos. Oh sure, there's the Internet, but every day that seems more and more like an infinite version of the Yellow Pages.

Near as I can tell, the only truly new jobs are that of trend-spotter, post-structuralist literary critic, right-wing talk show host, and fund-raising consultant for non-profit corporations. What special training is needed for these professions? None, other than the mastery of a specialized vocabulary. The literary critic must learn to use the word "hermeneutics" in casual conversation, and the right-wing talk show host the phrase, "Our fourth amendment rights have been abrogated!"

Both trend-spotter and fund-raising consultant must be able to say, "I'll have my staff model that, and get back to you," in an aggressive yet perky fashion. Other than that, these jobs are a piece of cake.

No, whether you're aiming to become a programmer, Internet provider, or wait-person, you just don't need retraining.

You only need to know these simple phrases: (1) "No problem." (or "No prob," or "No prah-blay-moh.") (2) "You got it." (3) "Have a nice day." (Or "Have a good one.") (4) "Take care." (5) "Let's touch base." (6) "Working on it." (7) "Room for cream?" (Or "Fries/Pie with that?") (8) "That's a software problem." (9) "That's a hardware problem." (10) "We don't have small. Just medium."

If you plan to enter middle -- or upper -- management, of course, it's a little different. You'll need to pepper your speech with nuggets like "new paradigms," "corporate culture," "vision," "excellence," "market share," and "leadership." Nothing new there.

And why are we so concerned about "newness" anyway? Pop culture is dizzily recycling the Fifties, Sixties, and Seventies. Yesterday's premature anti-fascists are today's disoriented film stars. Yesterday's shrink is today's Internet addiction recovery program counsellor. Perhaps the entire economy needs to go retro. Instead of worrying about new jobs, maybe we should bring back some old jobs.

It's too late to revive pin boys, smithies, and boot blacks, but lounge singers have made a comeback -- Tony Bennett has become the hip elder statesman of MTV. We can't bring back cowboys, but what about The Singing Cowboy? I recommend a national talent hunt to find the Roy Rogers for the Millennium. America's on the verge of losing its precious ability to yodel!

Here are some other professionals America may be ready to embrace once more:

Waitresses in all-night diners who have dyed red hair and call you either "Buddy," "Honey," or "Sugar."

Ventriloquists.

Dirigible pilots (and blimpmakers).

Elevator operators.

Hat check girls (and haberdashers, of course).

Cabbies. I'm talking about real cabbies now-- who chew unlit cigars, wear porkpie hats, and greet you with "Where to, Mac?"

Cynical reporters, not the whiny babies we have today.

Real strippers, not the buff pseudo-feminists we have today.

Blaxploitation stars. Who will be the Jim Brown of tomorrow?

The farmer.

I'm getting my resume together myself. I'm pretty sure that my gadfly position is about to be phased out; I just don't annoy a large enough database to be effective.

So I'm looking to become either a lumberjack, a scribe, or the charismatic leader of a drug-addled cult. If I can't find an opening there, I either want Howard Stern's job, or Camille Paglia's -- if I can just figure out what it is exactly that they do.