August 29, 2004

Using my powers of deductive reasoning along with the deft application of Ockham's Razor as well as (I note with some pride) the syllogism, I have come to the inescapable conclusion that my present locale of Searcy, Arkansas is the direct target of bizarre and sinister alien experimentation in the form of invisible waves.

I note some skepticism in your eye. But do not fear for my sanity, no! Fear for your teeth!

I shall explain. Ever since I arrived at Harding University a little more than two weeks ago, bearing only myself and about five British tonnes of dormroom furniture, I have started to notice. strange occurrences. These occurrences are not explicable according to the strict and narrow modernistic mindset, no. In order to explain these curious phenomena, I believe we must turn to a deeper source of truth: Hollywood science fiction circa 1960 AD.

Just ask yourself: given the following circumstances, what would you conclude? First off, speaker equipment across the Harding area has been emitting eerie noises at random intervals throughout the day when left on, usually an intermittent buzzing noise at various volumes, almost as if my combination television/vcr were intercepting transmissions from, oh, say, Nebulon V. My former roommate, who is now married and living in "Off-Campus Housing," where there are no limitations on either curfew or how many thousands of moths can fly in through the front door in any given second (lucky punks), says that his television has been making similar noises. To demonstrate conclusively that the noises were the same, I even mimicked the noises myself to him, as in the following, actual verbatim transcript of the event: "BRNNN-NN-N-N-N-bbrrrrNNNNNNN-NN-N-N-N-N." He only nodded his head in silent, but grim, agreement.

Some suggest the problem lies in my new cell phone, which is probably emitting enough alien waves on its own to cause cancer in my left thigh by late October. This is not, altogether, a poor theory, given that I have just received a new cell phone on the sensible basis that, unless I started paying an additional sum of money to CingularT®© each month, I would not have coverage when, in later life, I move to a thriving metropolis such as Blister, NV. I did not want the cell phone, exactly. I was fine with my old cell phone, minted circa 1998, when giant black plastic Nokia-saurs still roamed through the purses of soccer moms. I didn't see the need for an additional phone since I used my present phone on the approximate basis of never. But this did not stop my mother from wanting me to have a wonderful cell phone full of features that she was certain I would be needing all the time. "Hey, Chris!" she would say to me excitedly during the fourth or fifth hour in the purgatory of Cingular's sales office. "How many text messages do you think you'll be sending each month?" "Zero," I would reply. Hearing this, she would turn to the friendly Cingular sales representative and say, "He wants 250."

So it is entirely possible that, during some point in the unending sales discussion, mom asked me, "Do you want the new Bizarre, Cancer-Causing Alien Rays feature add-on or not?" and I said, "Whatever," which, in mom-speak, means "Go right ahead."

But on the other hand, my old roommate does not have a cell phone (at least, not to my knowledge). So I believe this explanation must be summarily ruled out.

Still not convinced? Consider my mysterious tooth pains of late. Now, I must admit, I am the sort of person who dislikes pain, and I would prefer to believe that it's not my fault. But I've been having occasional aches in a certain area of my mouth, but not localized enough where I would say it was a cavity. It feels more like one of my teeth is trying to forcibly escape from my mouth, possibly because I've been subjecting it to nothing but Atkins-brand Food-like Energy Bars, which feature a tasty caramel-like substance constructed of actual epoxy. But I can't get it to stop. I've even gone so far as to update my dental hygiene routine from swishing a Nutrasweet-flavored beverage around my mouth a few times to actual flossing. I've even gone back to wearing my retainer. The result? I now have sore gums, a sore jaw, and the original pain is still there. So I'm just going to ignore it and hope it goes away. If it worked on the Soviet Union, it can work for me.

But on the other hand. what if the dental pain is caused by evil alien waves? The coincidences are too coincidental to let idly slip by.

What about the mysterious appearance of another network card on my computer that didn't actually exist? I mean, this one little mysterious detail cost me a full week of internet access, for some bizarre reason (I think alien waves also explain Harding DormNet's idea to install brand new equipment the day the freshmen arrived. It might also explain all the excessive italicization.) And as a result, both of my faithful readers got no C-File last week. Yes, I know I could have gone over to my roommate's computer and done something, but as just an offhand measurement, that would have required traversing perhaps several million millimeters of dorm room carpet, and that would not have been acceptable.

Fortunately, there is hope from all the perverse alien waves distorting Searcy , Arkansas. I am speaking, of course, about Shaolin Soccer, which is, without exaggeration, the greatest movie ever, and that includes both Godfathers. The subtly probing, intricately woven, yet sublimely inspiring plotline takes you on an introspective journey, if you will, asking the timeless question, "What would happen if you mixed soccer with Shaolin martial art techniques and about 45 million ludicrous and random special effects sequences?" Of course, in the tradition of all great movies, the question is mostly left for the viewer to reflect upon on the way home. If you chance to watch the film yourself, here are some thought-provoking discussion questions for you:

1) Would you rather be able to deflect wrench attacks with your head, or launch a soccer ball out of your abdominal cavity at speeds upwards of 150 mph? Explain.

2) Discuss the subtle irony in the naming of "Light Brother." How does the naming reflect a post-Kantian weltanschauung vis-à-vis subject-verb linguistics?

3) Diagnose the source of Mui's mottled complexion. Did she forget to wash after rolling her face in a pizza? Or what? Explain.

4) Contrast the holistic, natural methodologies of the practicioners of Shaolin Soccer with the satanic steroid injection strategies of Team Evil. Is either side, really, playing fair? Does it even matter?

I think this is going to be a great year. Don't you? I mean, provided the aliens target their rays of doom somewhere else. Cingular's sales office, maybe.