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2003-02-20 - 8:20 p.m.
Threat for the Week: "Any act which implies an agenda which could be perceived as hostile must perforce be taken as an act of war." As Charspider, Julieclipse, and a number of others have been so good to point out, we (being The Absent Friends, New College's own Rocky Horror shadowcast) offered our Third Semi-Annual Performance of That Immortal Cinematic Classic, The Rocky Horror Picture Show. And by gumbo, it was as good as the hype. The costumes, par excellence. The shadowing, magnifique. The props, supere-dupere. The call lines, grvi. The Ancient and Sacred Masonic Rite of De-Virginization, I am informed, went particularly well, although I cannot personally answer for that, since I was in the trancelike Dionysian state that comes with my favorite piquant cocktail of three parts adrenaline and a teacupfull of madness to two bottles Cold Duck. If only there was some way I could make money for encouraging people to publically humiliate themselves while blustering like a British game show host on crack. We even got money from the Student Allocations Council for the first time in Rocky's illustrious history, (and for you gibbering prefrontals out there who have an interest in such affairs, this is actually my FIFTH performance of the Rocky Horror Picture Show at New College, counting my first-year escapade in Palm Court which featured, of all people, Actionhero as the Criminologist! ... and the thing we -- a "we" which was less royal than vague, since I don't remember exactly which suckers were there, although I think most of the Absent Friends were -- did in Sudakoff which starred more than anything else a rather intoxicated and thoroughly well-sartorialized Rintrah) thus assuring our place in history. Or at least in the SAC notes which usually make it into the Catalyst. So, yes, it was superior. And YOU MAY WELL HAVE MISSED IT!, unless you are an Absent Friend, or Kid Eternity, who is our official Unofficial Absent Rockstar. Or one of the nine million virgins who showed up. Or someone else who happened to be there. Or, I suppose, if you're part of the Office of Homeland's Security Department of Depravity, Southeast Division. Hmm, if I go at this rate for a few paragraphs longer, I can get at least a dozen links to other people's diaries in here. Then I'd win the kewpie. Allow me to add that I make a spectacular Asshole. One that has to be seen to be believed. But I make an even better Criminologist, and ... don't tell anyone ... I intend to put on one last show at the end of the year. Practically Top Secret. I intend to involve a lot of alums and give the Absent Friends a break. Should be spectacular. But that's under your hush-hush, on the hat, and very Q.T. Remember Q.T. the orangutan, who played the calliope in Dumbo's Circus? Is that song in YOUR head now, too? NO? Well, then! Sing along! Flyin' from town to town! You'll never see another show like this! Dumbo's CIRCUS! ... Yeah, I toldja I was an asshole. So ... Allow me to get this straightened in my own mind ... The United Nations didn't fall for it. We've managed to divide up the European Union when two nations refused to be bluffed into following our lead. We've managed to cause a damned political furor in Britain over it because there's still some intelligent politics across the Pond, Tony Blair and his band of fascist lackeys notwithstanding. At least a reasonable percentage of American pre-expatriates (that's us) don't believe it. Iraq doesn't believe it. Iran doesn't believe it. Saudi Arabia doesn't believe it. I'd be willing to bet there's even some Israelis who don't believe it. Bushmen and aborigines and pygmies in the deepest wilderness don't believe it. NO ONE BELIEVES IT, DAMMIT! No one is going to fall for this one. Even our allies are only going along with us out of fear, tradition, or the expectation of some substantial reward, such as not being blown to insignificant pieces in the near future. We're going to barge in and drop our quota of gooey kablooey on what is, by international law, a completely non-threatening nation. Regardless of how many bland maps and unmarked pictorials and unsupported references Colin Powell cares to bring up on the screen and attempt to drone the U.N. into submission about, there is no evidence whatsoever to support the notion that Iraq has anything approaching the capacity to do any sort of damage to American soil. But that's not going to by-Gawd stop us. Because ... Well, you pick, citizen: A - We as a nation live in mortal fear of the day that oil prices go above that tenuous level that they currently dance on which enables us to keep pumping charbroiled dinosaurs into the clanking maws of our sweet rolling steel. When we can't afford gas, we can't go anywhere. We will live quietly in our homes until the juice dies as the power plants go out one by one and we all expire of malnutrition and fear in the darkness, if we're not first victims of pillaging by American freebooters riding solar cycles and wearing Birkenstocks drenched in the blood of patriots. B - Daddy didn't finish the job. This time ... IT'S PERSONAL! C - We want to see if we can find something even more bizarre than Gulf War Syndrome for conspiracists to come up with absurd theories about based off inconsequential facts like veterans claiming they were forcibly injected with unidentified compounds. D - We need to use the bombs on SOMEONE, dammit. Otherwise all this American innovation will have gone to waste, and that would be a DAMNED CRIME! (also see: the Hiroshima Logical Theorem) E - Saddam Hussein, contrary to his public image as a dictator who enjoys quietly crushing his own people and firing rifles into the air, is actually a supervillain from another dimension known as Onslaught who will disrupt all continuity in our universe. F - The New Domino Theory: If we knock down ONE nation which can even vaguely be construed as "hostile" without garnering any popular support, we won't experience any problems when we feel like trampling the REST of the world out in our vineyard, where the grapes of wrath of stored. Made your choice? Excellent! Now wad up the paper and cram it down your throat, put your hands behind your back and kneel quietly by the front door until Tom Ridge comes to drag you off to Rex-84 Camp 23, citizen! Shame on you for casting aspersions on our beloved god-king! A miserable quasi-lifetime rotting in a hell of our own making is the least you deserve! The correct answer was: G - "Ohhh-hooo, saaaaaay .... caaaaan youuuuu seeeeeee .... byyyy the DAWWWWWWN's eaaaaarlyyyy liiiiiight ...." And let THAT be a lesson to you. I'm bored. Bored-bored-bored-bored-bored-BORED-BORED-BORED! Crushingly, achingly, undeniably, eternally, thoroughly, completely, utterly, without compunction, without flag or fail, wholly, veritably, proverbially, and existentially BORED. I haven't been called for work in two weeks. I'm out of fragging money. I'd say I don't have two pennies to rub together, but that's not entirely true. I do HAVE two pennies, and I AM rubbing them together, to generate a bit of friction to keep me warm since I can't afford to turn on the heat. I've called to ask why I haven't been called, and all I get is no calls. There's NO CALL for that. :: sigh :: And on top of that, Julieclipse is gone for the week chasing dolphins across the Gulf (so at least I'll eat well when she comes back ... mmm. Intellituna.) and I'm all by myself. Except for my housemates, but they hardly count, since Nootropil and GreyMatter are hardly the sorts to cuddle when I'm feeling hollow and useless. I eat too much when I'm bored. Have you ever eaten a pound of spaghetti seasoned with a stick of butter and quarter cup of McCormick Seasoned Salt? Yeah? Well, have you eaten TWICE that? :: Ugh :: And now I've got some sort of starch-based indigestion. I feel like I swallowed a cement imp two days ago and it's been crushing all my innards ever since. Not that that's stopped me from eating half a loaf of cinnamon raisin bread with, yes, another stick of butter. I know! I'll get into shape! How about a circle? My mom always told me I was well-rounded. :: rim shot :: Gawd, even my jokes are bored. They're so bored they haven't bothered showing up. My A-material is on vacation in the Dry Tortugas and my B-material is off auditioning for a Season of Ibsen at the Apollo. You're getting my C-material. Hence "circle". You C? :: rim shot :: Ohhh, gawd, someone give me SOMETHING to do. Someone. Something. Do. Now. ... Or I'm going to eat your cat. 
 
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