Column 20

Well, fellow jive-turkeys, I have a problem. You see, being an English Major can be some pretty tough crumpets, sometimes. I mean, sure, you’ve got the glamour of irrelevance, the splendor of superfluousness, and the majesty of social isolation due to an inescapable tendency to correct even the most milligrammatical errors. We don’t have to comply with such trifling social norms such as “pants” and “employment.”

But there are detriments, too. All that time we spend pant, job, and penniless isn’t entirely filled with mass cheeto consumption, monstrous facial hair growth, putting on dresses while pretending to be Jane Austen, and wondering why we never get asked out by pretty ladies and/or gentlemen.

Indeed, we English Majors all too often suffer from an addiction I like to call “Figurativitis.” Figurativitis is a condition in which an individual, usually an English or Philosophy Major, seeks to make seemingly innocuous, trivial details and items become representative of significantly larger and “genuinely important” theoretical issues. Colloquially, think of “symbolism.” Generally, it’s minor: A tree is Nature (and phallic). An ant is The Worker (and phallic). Darkness is Uncertainty (and phallic). A church is God (and phallic). You get the point (so to speak).

Anyway, I’ve been trying to find something, anything to represent my ambivalence towards the Iraqi conflict. But it’s not easy. For instance, I was trying to think of something utterly trivial when I noticed a fair bit of hullabaloo about Anna Nicole Smith’s demise. Once I got over the unfortunate profaning of my column with “current events,” it seemed brilliant. I mean, she died once. People in Iraq died/die/are dying/will die once, too! She was hounded by the media, getting nothing but flak and bad press. Iraq is/was hounded by the media, getting nothing but bad press and flak… and the aircraft that comes with it… and tanks… and bombs… Iraq had “Operation Enduring Freedom.” She had “An Operation of Enlarging Boobdom.” People think we went into Iraq for money. Anna Nicole went into old men for money. Iraq was supposed to have WMDs. Anna Nicole… had… silicone?

Things kinda fell apart after that. Then, on Sunday, I was failing to not watch the Oscars when I noticed one Albert Gore. I think he won for Best Supporting Sound Cinematographer in a Foreign Soundtrack, I didn’t really pay attention (You’d think, being an English Major, I’d be drawn to a self-congratulatory ceremony lacking genuine social value, eh? Go figure…ative). Anyway, VP Bore was talking about this whole “catastrophic climate apocalypto departed inconvenience” and I thought, “Hell, why not try something more obscure than a faux-C-list-celebrity, like certain doom?”

But wow. It just doesn’t work! I mean, it’s uncanny. So. Get this. President Bush is all, “Hey, guys, WMDs, threat to America, better safe than sorry, k?” So we blew up Iraq. And then, twenty years later, the Democrats were like, “Um, we were kidding, dude. Seriously. Not cool.” But now the Democrats (and company) are all, “Hey, guys, climate DOOM? Better safe than sorry, amiright?” And President Bush (and company) are like, “Whatever, I do what I want!” So we put a sombrero on Iraq, pretend we have a new strategy that’ll reallyreallyOMGWMD-work-this-time-for-reals, and blow it up again (third time’s a charm!).

And, well, I was too high by then to continue. But now I have a symbol. Iraq is like the air quality is like all our problems is like your toilet: there’s no reason to clean it until it’s overflowing with crap. Because if there’s anything college has taught me, it’s that procrastination is never, ever, ever a bad idea. True. Story.