Saturday, January 10, 2009

Bathroom Monologue: Science Vs. Religion, Edition 3.5

The battle between science and religion raged until a freshman at Cal Tech pointed out that neither was actually a person with opinions nor a thing with physical properties, and that all of the conflicts happened between homo sapiens who were neither science nor religion. Thus far science and religion had been incredibly selfish, allowing third parties to do all the fighting for them.

One of the technical institute’s extracurricular clubs devised a proper competition between the two, writing “Science” on one index card and “Religion” on the other, giving them equal physical representation, then leaving the two on a table top outside the dorms. Whichever was left standing would be considered the victor.

Two hours into the combat a slight breeze flipped Religion upside down, viewed by part of the crowd as a sign of inferiority. However the act of flipping made it land on top of the “Science” card, suggesting its superiority via pinfall to another segment of the crowd. A third segment, composed primarily of people from the Gay/Straight Alliance, considered it kinky.

Fifteen minutes later a second breeze came by and blew both cards into the mud. The contest was ruled a draw by a visiting poetry lecturer. The few people who still cared by then went off to play table tennis. A similar form of conflict resolution will be applied to Star Trek and Star Wars next semester.

Friday, January 9, 2009

Bathroom Monologue: Diversity Two

Quinting stands as one of the most popular artistic film directors of his generation, with Wild Tulips Limited, Crossed Veins and Mr. Rogers: A Documentary each reaching blockbuster status almost despite their critical success. He had been nominated for four Academy Awards and heralded by the New York Times as “the most creative… and visionary director in our out of Hollywood.” However culture critic George Hausen dismisses Quinting’s work, saying that while his films are striking if you have only seen one or two, that he only makes two kinds of movies: pell-mell comedy about sexually frustrated, financially irresponsible idiots, and post-modern noir about love. When approached about the criticism, Quinting said he was relieved Hausen thinks so highly of himself, “as that’s two more kinds of movies than most directors make.”

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Bathroom Monologue: Rob Vs. Rob (no relation)

Rob Roy (no relation) had a stalker. He had never seen him, except for fleeting glimpses in the mirror, but he knew well of his existence. This stalker even had a name: Rob of Tomorrow. To Rob this man was a parasite living off the efforts of his present, spending the money he now worked for and tapping the girls he now only chatted up. This “plan for your future” business didn’t interest him. It was raw propaganda in favor of some later self that would bask in your good work. He threw obstacles in Rob of Tomorrow’s path, like racking up a credit card bill that the son of a bitch would never be able to pay off. Whether or not he did wasn’t Rob’s problem. Not presently.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Bathroom Monologue: This one’s almost done

“Almost” counts in way more than just horseshoes and hand grenades. A nearly perfect holiday dinner with both your relatives and hers is pretty damned miraculous. The bomb destroying almost the entire city darned sure means a lot to the people in the buildings that were only almost destroyed. And trust me, if a bunch of monkeys chained to typewriters wrote up to:

“How does my project gather to a head:
My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and time
Goes upright with his carriage. How's the d32g45a54”

before their manuscript disintegrated into random keystrokes, you’d be impressed.

But if you recognized those lines as the opening of the last act in the last play William Shakespeare wrote independently, and connected it to the popular theory that an infinite number of monkeys hitting keys at random could write the entire works of that playwright, well, that’s almost unbelievable.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Bathroom Monologue: Bathroom Monologue Over the Phone

“You think being a psychic is all glamour and illusion? What do you know? You ever been up all night because of the chirping the birds are gonna make in the morning? You ever been on a date with a girl way out of your league but you rode into the spot on pity, only to have to blow it off because you foresee a murder and know being at the scene as a potential witness is the only way to stop it? Of course you haven’t. Keep your cynicism to yourself. It’s the only way you’ll ever get married. And if you want to know whether that’s a snap judgment or a prophecy, you’ll have to sign up for our Premium Service. It’s only 7.99 extra. Would you like it? Not that we both don’t already know the answer to that.”

Monday, January 5, 2009

Bathroom Monologue: Bathroom Break from the John Adams Miniseries

Doreen stopped before the procession of soldiers. She stared not at their crude uniforms nor homemade rifles, but at the flag flapping at the head.

It was a flag of seven red stripes and six white, with the snake that represents the thirteen states running across it. On the bottom-most white stripe read the demand of each young man in the militia: “DONT TREAD ON ME”

Her sons stopped behind her, clutching at her skirt. A hitch went up her throat and she put a hand to her mouth to stifle sob.

“Those boys… in such a hurry …” she muttered. Another sob came.

Her sons looked up at her and frowned. Was it that the older boys would die in battle? Did she simply hate war? Was it too futile an effort? Did she think of how other mothers would feel when news came of the fallen? Or fear for them, when they grew of age to serve?

“Hurrying so …” she gasped, “that they hadn’t the time to put an apostrophe in ‘Don’t.’ Their poor, poor English teacher…”

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Bathroom Monologue: “hannah montana” –6th fastest rising search term on in the United Arab Emirates

The pop star glanced around the arena. Clearly wearing this sort of skirt here made her nervous.

“Don’t these people demand all women wear the veil?”

Her agent shook his head, as well as a fistful of dollars.

“Sixth fastest rising search term, Hannah!”

“I still think the outfit could get me stoned… And do these people even speak English?”

“Doesn’t matter if they get the lyrics. Probably better they don’t. If they’re offended, we can afford security.”

“Couldn’t we at least research this first?”

Her agent shoved her through the door to the stage, yelling, “But google!”
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