Satire || Harvard Researchers Reveal The Real Reason Why


warhol_the_prophetCertain philosophers would have you believe that science at best is an integrated, and reconstituted distillation of all the current knowledge a (much like Campbell’s condensed Tomato soup: similarly mundane and uninteresting). A diminutive subset of these natural thinkers has even dared  to characterize our universe as one with an infinite number of happenings outside the current domain of knowledge.

It’s pusillanimous to concede that despite our best efforts, the unknown will always lord above human affairs. Subsequently, if ever confronted by such dogmatic thought please keep the following in mind. Firstly,  any philosopher or wayward scientist who subscribes to such an antithetical and a virulent brand of epistemophobia is not from Harvard University. That is not to suggest that researchers from Harvard are the only significant ones. It’s to expressly communicate the Gospel truth, that researchers from Harvard are the only significant ones.

Recently, researchers at Harvard have just revealed the real reason “Why”.  For the sake of clarity, Harvard researchers have solved the answer to every question ‘Why’. Answering questions such as “Why your husband’s surprisingly drunk before sex, after you’ve gained 65lbs in a year” or “Why are my dates on OKCupid repulsed by my chronic public masturbation” or finally “Why after Jennifer Facebook posts yet another meme on how love hurts, all her friends wish Chris from her evening class would ask her out on a second date – are without challenge for such celebrated minds.

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StoryTime: An Astringent Brew


[ A friend of mine died recently and I lost for a time the ability or want to write anything. I thought I’d share some ‘stuff’ that I write. This is still a draft]

Perhaps it’s because the Thursday crowd drinks to celebrate their imminent release, whereas the Friday crowd does so to mitigate the intensity of their newfound freedom; that I can’t recall when the Thursday bar scene was less spirited than Friday’s. It’s amusing to think that for this bar, at least, these two distinct groups are comprised of the same persons.

It would be easier for you to see this if you were as I am, standing in the corner nearest the entrance, hovering over my date who continues to insist we take turns sitting. But there’s no better vantage point to peer into the narrow space separating the person from the crowd and the individual from the person. And favorable perch aside, my stubbornness and, more importantly, misguided sense of chivalry doesn’t allow for a man to sit while his lady stands.

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