Editorial: I Am Traveling Through Time
Scotto - 2001 October 26
I have something amazing to report -- something completely unworldly -- which as usual is the primary thrust of this editorial e-mail. I recently discovered a time-warp phenomenon that would make Captain Picard himself decompose with pride: As of this moment, time is progressing more slowly than it was just mere hours ago!
Throughout most of last night I was experiencing a great wonder of relaxed hallucination which the layperson may commonly refer to as ‘sleep’. Immediately after reaching this state, I traversed a period of six hours -- instantly! Suddenly, I was maliciously thrust back into what I refer to as "common time" by a cantankerous black obelisk. At this point I was flustered and disoriented, as you may well imagine. Stricken with wonder and confusion over these strange events, I lurched to the train station, gazing with astonishment at the immense gleaming metal conduits lying parallel upon the ground. I comfortably stationed myself within one such aluminum tube, and in very short order I found myself in a completely foreign locale. This new place was bustling with activity, odors and noises of all sorts. Still somewhat perturbed and excited by the abnormal events of the night, I sought sanctuary in a similar yet less comfortable conduit. This was a capital misstep.
I became trapped within this effigy of a soda can as it closed its many jaws, sealing myself and several others within! It then proceeded to shoot through the ground with great commotion and incredible speed! As I lurched to and fro within the belly of the serpentine leviathan, it occurred to me that time was now running at but a snail’s pace.
Indeed, following my was release from the clutches of the agitated tin-can and my being hurtled upwards through subterranean chambers by some mechanical stair-cases, I discovered myself to be in a similar place as where I started -- not far from my place of transference between the wheeled-pipes. This in of itself would not be unusual, save for the fact that the underground voyage seemed, temporally, more lush than the entirety of the jaunt from my home to the place of chaos and odors.
I can only hope that some of you may report back similar experiences, for as I now sit haphazardly confined within these three stunted walls, gazing at my oracle of glowing crystal-dots, I worry. I worry that I may be going mad; that this temporal upheaval may be my mind’s sole refuge from a reality wherein order prevails; every movement and function of society is intrinsically linked to time. A world in which people pride themselves upon their comprehension (or worse yet, complete apprehension) of time. In which the metering and recording of time is not only commonplace, but the obsession of the people.
I refuse to believe it.
Recalling events passed, I will present my thoughts from October 18th, which are just as relevant now as they ever were:
Today as I was standing near the door to the helpdesk, a man walked past in the hallway outside. Just at that moment, I took it upon myself to thrust forward my pelvis while at the same time drawing back my arms, to a cry of “heeya!” The man must have thought it was directed specifically at him, but really it was a gesture for the world at large, and for Allah.
My “Green” tea is now dark brown. I forgot about it, and it steeped too much.
A pound of sterling silver seems like a lot. If I ate it, and then pissed on a werewolf, would that be sufficient to kill him?
Next week’s editorial: Why Won’t the Tallyman Tally My Damn Bananas?
-or- Count Your Own Damn Bananas, the Tallyman Deserves a Break
-or- Stop Bothering the Tallyman, He’s Dyslexic and Can’t Help You
-or- Ironically, I Do Not Recommend Blowing your Nose With “Tissue Paper”