You open one of the 1005 boxes on this floor and find...
A larger than man-sized mannequin with four arms, coated in dried blood. In its hands are a butcher knife, a chainsaw, a shotgun, and a hammer. On its back is a large switch. It has been superglued in the "OFF" position.
Several accurate reproductions of Al Gore. All are switched to "off." But who can tell anyway?
Michael Jackson's original nose.
A Slinky. After a few moments, it lunges for freedom.
A pale green kitchen sponge, slightly damp. When squeezed, a watery, slightly musty white wine drains out. Continual squeezing will apparently produce an infinite quantity of such wine - although the wine is of a quality that you'd expect, if you squeezed it out of a kitchen sponge.
A cat slowly rotating in midair. There is a slice of buttered toast strapped to its back.
A copy of Dante's Divine Comedy. The version contains a new section in the Inferno, which describes a special sub-circle of hell reserved for roleplaying game designers.
A blender. It seems ordinary in every way except that its only settings are "blend" "puree" and "global destruction."
A copy of your hometown Sunday newspaper comics dated 2005. All of the comic strips on all the pages are Dilbert.
A cage full of parakeets and an old style cassette player with a cassette in it. It is the 1812 Overture, and whenever the cannon drum is played on the tape, one of the parakeets explodes.
Alright, you'll get your stinkin' post
Just some lyric ideas I'm working on.
There's a girl behind a cafe counter singin'
"I'm just doin' this till somethin' better comes along"
There's a boy sipping a late in the back
tryin' to turn her legs into a song
And there's a man cryin' on the corner, no one would suspect
his parents just found out that he's gay
And the woman watchin' her imperfections in the store-side window
doesn't know she's beautiful anyway
And it amazes me,
the lives that pass us by,
and how you never really know their name
And lookin' at them through my mind's eye,
people go by like a flame
There's a man down by the bayou wearin' a shirt that says "I hate gays", '
cause his daddy used to tell him he was queer
And his neighbor's at the church lightin' a candle for her son,
cryin' 'cause he died of AIDS last year
And some of us shine so bright and clear,
while some are blinded by the smoke
I wish someone would blow a little clarity our way,
softly, so we don't all choke
Have you hugged a white person today?
Believe it or not, whites are a race! Yeah, I was as shocked as you are... now let's all talk about how guilty we should feel to be white, living in America, and having even the slightest bit of pride in ourselves.
Washington Post - Whiteness Studies
Note especially the bit about whites in poverty. I reeeally loved that part.
"'There is this constant message hammered at poor white people,' Horton said. 'You may be poor, you may have miserable lives right now, but . . . the thing we want you to focus on is the fact that you are white.'"
Maybe the thing we should have blacks in poverty believe that they may have miserable lives right now, but the color of their skin has nothing to do with how far they can go if they really put their minds to it. Maybe it's not whites who should change their point of view, it's everyone who wants to act like there's any difference made by what color your skin is or how much your eyes slant or how much Swedish you have in your blood.
Or maybe I should get off my high white horse and give away all of my possessions to poor so-called "minorities" and move to Middle Of Nowhere, Africa, so that I can really understand how ashamed I should be to be white, middle class and educated.
(And, for the record, none of my ancestors owned slaves. So stick that in your pipe and smoke it.)
At a loss
The only thing I can think to write about is kind of personal and would probably make my male viewers squeemish, so here's the deal: IM or e-mail me any questions you want answered and I'll do so. Simple as that.
Thanks. I'll try to be clever and original next time.