Dear Party Guests and Invitees:

Previously, you have received an invitation to Ray’s Birthday Party, to be held at 6 PM on the evening of the 21st of May, 2011.

It has come to our attention, however, that the world is, apparently, going to end at 6 PM, Pacific Rim time. However, we do not know whether this refers to the Asian end of the Pacific Rim or the American end of the Pacific Rim.

In the event that this refers to the American end of the Pacific Rim, we suggest arriving early so as to have a comfortable buzz on before the apocalyptic goings-on begin (6 PM California time is 8 PM here, unless they’re referring to Alaska, which seems odd, which would be 9 PM, or it could be 10 PM if they mean Hawaii, which would be really weird because Hawaii’s not so much on the “rim” as it is smack dab in the middle. However, if they are referring to the Pacific Rim of south America, it could be right at 6 PM because Chile and Perú are on Central Time right now).

If it refers to the Asian side, then the party will be held as scheduled so long as I-35 does not turn into a lake of fire. Should this happen, we suggest using MoPac Boulevard/Loop 1 as an alternate route.  Given that Dell Headquarters seems the most likely point for a chasm into the fiery abyss to open, MoPac should be clear.

Those who are planning to be Raptured are kindly requested to bring their presents by Ray’s office on Friday. Please bring expensive gifts; after all, you won’t be needing the money where you’re going.  We also suggest leaving a spare set of house keys so that someone can look after your house and possibly move in if it’s nice enough.

The rest of you are kindly asked to bring either something to drink or eat to the party, and remember: don’t bring anything you wouldn’t eat or drink yourself. You don’t want to be that schmuck who shows up with a six pack of Bud Light and is seen drinking someone else’s Bass Ale all night. (You know who you are.)

Given the possibility that it might be raining sulfur for part of the evening, we discourage bringing dishes that feature hard boiled or deviled eggs. If you would like to go with the apocalyptic theme for the party, here are some suggestions: Devil’s Food Cake, Fire and Brimstone Chili, Pitchfork Pie, Brimstone Bars, Satan’s Satin Pie, and/or Firey Fudge.

If you get lost en route, please call us or send message via Hell Hound.  We look forward to seeing you and having a lovely evening.

Love,

Chris & Ray

P.S. This brings to mind my favorite Six Feet Under opener ever:

 

Taking a break from the normal subject matter, I want to turn now to the growing source of office tension. No, it’s not the $1 million in budget cuts coming from the College of Liberal Arts, nor is it the mysteriously inserted reduction in Title VI funding from which half of my salary and all of my operating budget derives.

It’s the office water cooler.

I remember as a kid doing childish things like putting empty bottles back in the fridge, mostly because it annoyed my mother and her reaction was fun to watch. Sometimes, the bottle wasn’t entirely empty — there were at least three or four drops left in the bottom, I swear!

Well, flash forward thirty years, and it seems I’m getting my comeuppance. As the staff member with the office closest to the kitchen, I am usually the one to discover that the bottle has been emptied and left on top of the cooler anyway (bonus points, apparently, are gained if I discover this while choking on something or coughing).

However, one of the most passive aggressive aspects of this is the “who gets to change the bottle” game.

I’ve long ago accepted that there is misogyny in the workplace. As an ardent feminist, raised in fear of my mother’s wrath, I fully believe that women can do anything that men can do. I happen to believe that this should include the killing of insects and heavy lifting, however, apparently I’m somewhat alone on this. How I remember dearly a long-departed colleague who was all tough and aggressive who would then come and sit on the desk of various male colleagues whose testicles she kept in a jar on her desk and purr like Catwoman, “Can you help me with something? I’m just a girl, I don’t know how to do these things.”

And so …

It is amusing on an anthropological level how people manage to squeeze out of water bottle duty.

Sometimes, colleagues will ask point blank if I can change the water. That, I have no problem with.  It’s the sneaky tactics to make it someone else’s problem that intrigue me.

There is the unspoken rule that if there’s still water coming from the spigot when you full your mug or your gallon sized refillable environmentally friendly water bottle, it’s not your job. This doesn’t explain the numerous times I’ve gone in to find the bottle completely empty, however.

I’ve discovered full bottles of water sitting next to the cooler. Now, sometimes, they’re brought in when the current tank is running low. Other times, they only seem to make it that far. This is a signal: “I got it this far, someone else needs to get it the rest of the way.”

Today, a new tactic was introduced. I went into the kitchen and a full bottle was sitting in the middle of the doorway.

I am starting to imagine a The Office-like scenario involving hidden cameras, strands of hair carefully lain to determine if something’s been moved, and quite possibly a mariachi band at an unexpected moment. (I have no idea what purpose the mariachi band would serve, but there’s always something random involved.)

What lengths will we start going to in order to force unsuspecting coworkers to change the water in the cooler?

I have a feeling it’s about to get interesting.  Stay tuned …

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I tend to (try to) leave the hardcore political analysis to the big dogs, but occasionally my encyclopedic knowledge of pop culture is triggered by something going on in the real world and I have to weigh in.

Issandr El Amrani (aka, The Arabist), excerpted a particularly inane speech delivered by Bashar al-Asad, the King President of Syria:

For the Syrian citizens, the new government means new blood; and new blood means new and great expectations. But for this blood not to become old in a short period of time, we need to renew it constantly. This renewal happens by introducing new ideas. This new blood is not necessarily related to the individuals who join the government, but rather related to the new ideas which we produce every day. The world is moving fast around us, and we need to move at the same pace so that we can say that we are developing. Otherwise, we will be moving backwards. The world is moving ahead every month, every week, and sometimes every day.

I read this and laughed a bit. Way back in college, I interned at the Jordanian Embassy, and one of my jobs was to read King Hussein’s speeches and interviews. When I first got this task, I assumed that it was A Great Honor — me! a lonely intern! asked to read the speeches by His Majesty The King.

Little did I know this was actually a hazing ritual for the new guy. King Hussein was, for all of his (many) political foibles and wheelings and dealings, a gifted speechgiver. I recall suffering for hours on end, Hans Wehr in hand, trying to figure out what I could possibly have missed in the hour long speech that His Majesty had given yesterday, on the 27th Anniversary of the Holiday of the Planting of the Trees or somesuch … having been asked to summarize the salient points of the address, I just couldn’t find any.

This was when I heard the snickering from the next room.

Turns out His Majesty was famous for giving speeches like this, full of flowery euphemisms and rhetoric, but lacking any substance at all.  I must hand it to him; no other Arab leader has ever come close to this level of flowery perfection.

So, I was remembering this — good times! — when I glanced at the last couple of lines.

Gee, those sound kind of familiar.

And then it hit me.

Many years ago, during the turbulent time of clear colas and grunge bands that we like to call “the 90s,” The Simpsons skewered the political process during one of its Halloween themed episodes (The Treehouse of Horror … I don’t remember which Roman numeral follows).  Two interchangeable aliens named Kodos and Kang abduct the real Bill Clinton and Bob Dole and steal their identities. This is during the 1996 elections.

I do recall, however, the end of one of the speeches given by … I don’t remember which one it was (it doesn’t matter) … but the ending was:

We must move forwards, not backwards; upwards, not forwards, and always whirling, whirling, whirling toward freedom!

Go back and re-read the excerpt from Bashar’s speech and try not to see the similarity. Go on. I’ll wait.

Do I think that Bashar al-Asad’s speechwriter is deliberately quoting The Simpsons? No, of course not. Do I think that Bashar al-Asad is really Kang and/or Kodos? Well, it would explain a lot about Syrian politics, but no, I don’t.  Not really.  Am I intently amused that Syrian politics sounds like something Matt Groening cooked up 15 years ago? Yes. Yes, I am.

In that vein, I am given to reconsider the fluff piece about Asma al-Asad, the Syrian First Lady, that appeared in Vogue. Was it an attempt by the Syrian Ministry of Information to paint a kinder, gentler version of their regime?

Or–bear with me here–was she secretly auditioning for the titular role in La Reina del Sur, the hit telenovela based on the novel by Arturo Perez-Reverte about a young woman from Mexico who becomes the most powerful drug queen in the Mediterranean?  Am I making this connection because I’m addicted to the show? Yes, probably.

However, the caption, “You have to look good when you order the assassination of all of your enemies” seems to apply equally to both.  Vogue has caught a lot of flack for the piece (as well they should).

Almost as much as a photo shoot in the Egyptian Museum has caused for Zahi Hawass, the again-former-Head of the Egyptian Antiquities Organization, who just got sent to jail for a year. (The jail sentence isn’t related to the photo shoot – I’m just pleased that the smug bastard’s getting his comeuppance.)

So, what’s the point of all this? That I have a lot of time on my hands? Yes, probably. After all, this is what I do: make fun of people mercilessly. But I couldn’t quite let this go by without commenting on it.

But don’t blame me. I voted for Kodos.

Ok, I admit it. I’m hooked on Angry Birds. It should be so easy to ignore, but … Well, I just want those smug little pigs to die. Badly. It’s kind of upsetting.

Which is why this is funny:

Don’t ever … call it a slingshot.

Today is Bring Your Velociraptor to Work Day!