Fantasies of Yore

I really want to share my fantasies of now, but because they are mostly about having sex with people whom for ideological reasons won't have sex with me......(It's clearly ideological--who could resist?)  ...then I'll just share with you some of my old(er) fantasies.
I should mention these are still mostly about having sex.



There I am, back from the peace corps. I look exactly like Ani Difranco except that my height and eyes are still my own. Let it be said that I have her dread locks, nose ring, elf-chin and guitar skills. But for some reason I'm eating Chinese. My chop stick handling is really what it's all about. (SN: I think I started this back at the end of high school, when I ate with almost nothing but a spoon.) I've met up quite by chance with one of those hot guys who can't seem to find the road leading out of his hometown..As yet he doesn't have two ex wives, back problems or a beer gut, buuuuut, he's into me! In fact he's very taken with my chopstick technique, sort of, you know, intimidated in an alluring way.
"Oh this," I muse, "just a little something I picked up in the Orient." OK so, I didn't used to know that was a bad way to say Asia.  Nor could I have imagined that basically every American ever would learn how to use chop sticks eventually.  Whatever.  AHEM. Moving on.

I was always sort of vague on the details from here on out, our conversation probably highlighted my many success in south east Asia or Africa or both and that of course, with the salt of age his boyish charms would have given way to dreadfully witty and amazing in bed.  He'd want to marry me but you know,  its not you, its me. Ok I'm lying. It's your GED.

Here we are, in space. Its the future and I am the  neurolinguist on a mission to colonize Europa.  We wear a lot of Under Armour shirts and mine really bring out the blue in my eyes. They likewise highlight the buldging pectoral muscles of all the adult males... (In the future all adult males will have them.) I basically look like doctor Sattler from Jurasic Park except that I don't have a stupid mid-90's wavy-perm-bangs thing goin on.  I've noticed a name CCed on all my  mission related emails but didn't figure that the "One that got away" was also a top ranking acoustical physicist because I read that periodical, uh, periodically and never see his name.
At the pre-mission meet and greet however I find him next a huge tray of chocolate covered strawberries and we have our little, I think we've met before moment when some one tries to introduce us. It's more awkward then fiery. I respectfully break eye contact and do my best to harness Scully's sense of professional distance (circa season 1, 2 and 3)  Most importantly, his partner can't go with him on the ship. Don't ask me, I don't make the rules! There  just isn't enough space, we'd have to do a fuel dump, we might not make it and she accuses me of setting this whole thing up. I nobly attempt to be removed from the mission and let her go in my stead but naturally my leaving will throw off the launch calculations and no one neurolinguicizes quite like me. I mean, I'm The Chair. (That's academic for "the shit") It takes us a few years, but we are going to colonize a planet, so we eventually get over our guilt and totally make babies.

The last one I want to share with you is set in post apocalyptic America...Lets call it New Vegas or something. Anyway, I'm totally a raider combing the bad lands for fresh water, new drugs and people to rob. I'd be extra good at night watch and I'd finally have the ass I've always deserved. Check out my Pip-Boy...you were looking at my Pip-Boy, right?
Atanyrate, the future is an amazing and bright place. I can't wait to get there. I think I'll go look for it now.
Nite!

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Filler

                Hey there my beautiful batmans,  I just got my hands on a copy of New Vegas so I plan to be very, very busy for awhile. In lieu of a proper post I thought I would share an article I was quoted in... Sorry, I kinda effed up the formatting when I cut and pasted it. Enjoy! 

Harvard study indicates that data entry may be a significant factor in why time travel is not yet possible

Cambridge Massachusetts, home to the top shops in the biotech industry, leading engineering firms and like many large metropolis,  also a bastion for a growing class of highly qualified, seemingly unemployable graduates at every level of education.  Pushed to the edge of desperation, and swearing they  won't spend another wasted summer as a paralegal for their father's former all-state lacrosse buddy, unemployed twenty-somethings are turning to the temporary work sector.  Dr Shelina Riker of the Field Board division at Harvard and her team of tenure-hopefuls took a closer look at the larger factors of market inflation, increased life span and the effect of the global economic downturn in the first world, all of which, she feels,  have had dramatic impact on why time travel is not yet a thing of the past, future and present. 

                         "When  you control for the aggregated unimportance with which this generation views walking to work uphill--both ways in the snow-- we begin to see trends emerging, not only for why they are forced in to the sweatless labor of a M-F 9a to 9p, but also why they haven't used their unquestionably expensive genius to developed a functional vector for semiclassical gravity--let alone ponder the timescales implicit in the foundations of the statistical mechanics inherent to all known occurrences of the Nambu-Goto approximation."  In lay terms this means these nepotistic short stacks really just need a smart board and a sweet loft in Soho to Pinky and the Brain that shit..

As we can see the crux of Dr Riker's compiled data mirrors heavily the infinite monkey theorem wherein given enough time a group of untrained chimps could rewrite Shakespeare. It follows therefore that given enough "me" time to really think things--you know, over, a room full of above-it-all post-grads could, in mathematical terms, almost surely answer the question of what makes time travel possible.

Concerned parent and former foreign codependent Michel Lower has cast serious doubt on the findings, "Sure, I mean everyone has read Shakespeare, but how many chimps can say they've really read Shakespeare, huh? That's something that is almost impossible to do without a single malt whiskey, a poet's soul and a stack of Cliff Notes." 

This was a belief held inlike by renowned scientist Stephen Hawkins when he posed this Socratic gem, "Why don't we see more time traveling tourists?" Sagan had a cutting and ultimately un-autotunable retort that has thusly been lost from all public record and Chomsky for his part presented us with a wall of text as a comment we will neither read nor re-post. 

Nevertheless, while some remain sceptical, other participants in the study were not at all surprised by the findings, "Sure I could do what's-a-thingie with the whatchamacallit face in space," say Gina Daschle from behind both her thumbs and corresponding blackberry,  "... if I wasn't so busy complaining on Facebook about how an algorithm could accomplish my job."  

We spoke briefly with serial temp Erin McCarthy from her current data entry position in Washington DC via Skype. "I mean, what do you expect? My bachelor's degree is from an unaccredited university specializing in gayness. I'm lucky [Politemps] acknowledge my ability to group single digit sums. My mom doesn't." When asked what she would do when her  contract was terminated after the midterm elections she mused,  "I don't know, bum around." She then added more reflectively, "Sometimes I want to boldly go where no one has gone before, but I'll probably just move to a country with socialized medicine. "
Others in the industry, don't feel as lucky. "I just still don't get it, ya know?" the four-year sculling champion and top of his graduating class at Yale, Todd Stridefell remarked between sips of his latte, "Here I am,  MBA with high honors, magna cum laude,  president of my fraternity and I just can't make the time to complete my flash animation on the suitable geometries of space-time, you know? It's just like, where's my MacArthur award?" 
Furthermore, upon hearing that a renown jazz pianist, third generation stone carver and an off- Broadway theater director were three of 2010's recent recipients of the MacArthur fellowship he demanded to know what sorts of idiots these judges were, smugging off to his tennis match mumbling, "A fresh look at, Our Town, really?" 

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