As a bit of variety for our readers, I’ve decided to throw together a periodic humor piece inspired by Simon Travaglia BOFH. It’s not exactly an angry rant… but it is Friday — you deserve a few laughs. For those new to the HoS series, the first episode is here.
I’m sitting in Hellalate shotgunning espressos, staring at a blank sheet of paper, trying to figure out what I can possibly do to force Li to confess. If I had weeks to perform this task, there are a myriad of things I could possibly do to “persuade” Li. But as it is, I am very short on time as the Expulsion Committee is hearing my case in two days. As I stare at that blank sheet, I a single question comes to my mind:
“What Would Jack Bauer Do?”
Realizing that shooting Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum in some sort of overly dramatic gun battle would likely land me in the pokey, I start reading the bog-paper better known as “Uni News and Views” out of shear frustration. Turns out the Uni Basketball team lost badly (no surprise) and that some bra-burning feminist group called “Womyn Against Male Oppression” is handing out pepper spray and contact info for the local abortion clinic as part of their most recent PR initiative. How typical of the Uni. The campus police forcibly busted up the AK-47 benefit raffle for “Americans for Private Ownership of Crew-Served Weaponry,” but those pinkos allow Gloria Steinem wanna-bes to hand out real weapons on camp…. hang on. What would Jack Bauer do, indeed.
In a flash, I’m out of Hellalate (which is good, because their coffee has a 75% chance of causing gastro-intestinal distress in those who have not yet mastered the Shaolin art of “Iron Colon”) and onto the Quad, tucking in my tee-shirt and putting on a pair of those ultra-dorky librarian glasses that now seems all the rage. I pause for a moment to get into my new ultra-wimpified persona as I approach the WAMO desk.
“Pardon me,” I whimper, trying my best to sound the emasculated puppy these man-haters view as the only tolerable lifeform with a Y chromosome. “I was contemplating my own tragic failings in preventing the true liberation of womyn from The Patriarchy.” Eyes perk up. I continue laying it on as thick as I can as I inch closer to the box of pepper spray. “I know that as a man, I cannot truly be part of the solution, which must come from the power of womyn themselves, but what else can I do to help other men see the light as I have? How can I help free my sisters?” The three women at the desk, two of which appear to be typical man-hating lesbians (the matching “Dyke & Proud of It” tattoos on their arms give that away), seem to be spellbound by my rhetoric. I slip into a more inspiring voice and start employing exaggerated gestures as I start slipping canister after canister of pepper spray into my pocket. “How can I join the fight against the oppressive phallo-centric system that condemns my sisters to
violence? How can I convince other men to abdicate their position of power allowing womyn to bring an end the war, injustice and violence that are rooted in the oppression that comes part in parcel with men? How, my sisters? How can I do this? Teach me your ways of wisdom!” I end with crescendo and flourish, reducing the two lesbians to tears, and leaving the third, a quiet brunette with a WAMO t-shirt, with a puzzled look on her face. Unlike the dykes, she probably saw through my act, but lucky for me, she didn’t see my slight of hand.
After moments of taking all of WAMO’s literature and consoling the crying lesbians, I high-tail it away from the desk before they can realize their pepper spray supplies have been decreased by about 45%. After a half-hour long session in the can (curse you Hellalate!), I finally stagger to freedom. Despite my crunch for time, I swing by the gym to take a shower, because after all that (and I’m not referring to the side-effects of the espresso) I feel seriously dirty.
Equipped with more pepper spray than I would need to neutralize the national guard, I head over to Ray’s Music Exchange to pick up a copy of the 1995 re-release of In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, and not just because I’m a fan of Iron Butterfly, but because Li really, really hates the song. I also pick up a really, really cheap mp3 player, extra batteries a pair of crappy speakers. Two more stops and I’m almost ready: the local hardware store for some quick-drying glue and the local auto-parts place for a cheap car battery. After raiding the lab for a soldering iron and several other key pieces of equipment, I’m off the The Love Nest to do some assembly.
What’s my plan? Well, you’ll just have to wait for my next installment to find out, but to give my readers a bit of excitement before the next episode comes out, I encourage you to post your favorite plan of revenge using the tools listed above, plus anything that I can find in the lab. If it’s better than mine, I’ll credit you and adjust my plan accordingly. Who says that Hell’s Own Scientist isn’t flexible (at least when his academic status is on the line)?