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Resignation Letter, Or, ‘The World’

I just quit my job. Weeks before I knew I was going to quit, I wrote this resignation letter. Then, in the excitement of finally being able to quit, I forgot to bring it with me when I actually did quit. Balls. Not a big deal, though: it was purposely designed to confound, flummox, and bring about the general idea that I was somewhat unstable, thus making my hasty departure a point of concern rather than indignation.

The highfalutin verbiage and esoteric references would have been lost on the audience anyway. I mean, the one guy has had the same handlebar moustache for at least two decades. And last year, he didn’t even tell us when one of our coworkers was murdered by his girlfriend (Sadly, I didn’t make that up. She ran him over with her car. Management said not one word about it, to avoid giving people a day off for the funeral. Again, I can’t stress this enough: I didn’t make that up.).

Having said that, I now realize he would have thrown the letter in the garbage after he read the first line anyways. Here’s what I had:

The World*, or, My Resignation

Dearest Bob:

If you’re reading this, that means I’m already dead.

Or not. Anyhoo. Where to begin. At the beginning, I reckon.

Some 900 odd days ago, under Libra’s balanced gaze, a new cycle began, I playing The Fool. As time shifted I slowly toed my way through the major arcana, in both work and private life, ultimately culminating in this letter, which as you see above, I have entitled ‘The World.’

To come at it from another angle—the Moirai may now weave my tale. Read:

In that September of 2011, Clotho, Spinner of Life, dealt my thread. Her sister, Lachesis, drew her rod and measured it. Now, this night, governed by the fish Pisces, Atropos The Unturning, eldest of the three sisters, must now brandish her abhorred shears, and make her calculated cut.

Main point being, in the Menippean satire that this job, and consequently my life, has become, the ultimate communication of this letter is that I am quitting, if you didn’t get that already.

Now, by this time you may have noticed that I have left this communique with the front office and vanished, while the traditional two weeks of notice have not yet passed. None of us need worry about this. In the vast scope of geological time, after Armageddon has come and gone, whatever form it chooses to take, be it Ragnarok, The Four Horsemen, The Karmatic Wheel coming to a stop, Nuclear Winter—I can assure you that my swift exit from this company will not matter in the least.

At that time, when aliens, remaining humans, cockroaches—whatever is left, really—pick through the rubble where once stood this office/warehouse compound, I can assure you that my failure to give the traditional fourteen days forewarning will not be mentioned, nor will it even be relevant.

As Elton John once sang, we are nothing more than a candle in the wind. Or Kenny Wayne Shepherd: cold on ice, joker on jack, tears on a river, whisper on a scream. It doesn’t mean a thing.

And thus, as mysteriously as I arrived, I now dissipate, into the nether regions of the working world. May dementors eat my soul should we cross paths again.

Love,

Guy that don’t work here no more

*In Tarot readings, The World card can represent a cycle completed.

The No-Splash Urinal—How About It, Science?

December 17, 2012 4 comments

Here’s a brief history lesson:

Isaac Newton

This is how Isaac Newton invented gravity. One night, while working in the Swiss Patent Office, he found himself drawing out some equations that would later become the theory of special relativity. He took a break to peer through his telescope, inadvertently discovered Earth’s moon, and in his excitement knocked an apple off of a table. It fell to the floor, and rolled under a desk, where it came to rest next to a moldy piece of bread. Newton thought about how the bread had been sitting on the ground, and not floating around the room, for weeks. A light bulb, which he later patented, lit up over his head. This moldy piece of bread had led to the invention of gravity. Out of scientific curiosity, he took a bite of the bread. Later on, while urinating, he noticed that the burning sensation that he normally experienced had went away. “Well slap my ass and call me Sally,” he thought, “I’ve just discovered penicillin.” As Sally walked into the office of his immediate superior to tell of the history that was being made, he was not greeted with “Congrats,” “Way to go,” or even a hug. What his boss said was, “Why is there urine all over the front of your clothes?”

It was a fair question. Newton was notorious for having an abnormally powerful flow, and bathrooms back then were very cramped. Imagine shooting a fire hose at a brick wall from a foot away, and you will get a glimpse of what life was like for this man. Surprisingly, he never went on to solve the problem of the splatter effect so conducive to the public urinal. Many posit that this odd shortcoming in his influential career was due to his obsession, in later years, with finding a socially acceptable way to seduce the sheep, Dolly, that he had cloned. All hope was lost a short time later, when he became a complete recluse after publishing The Catcher In The Rye.

So, if somebody could pick up where Newton fell short and make a urinal that entirely eliminates any sort of splash and splatter, we would all owe you a great debt of gratitude. Yet if Frank Urinal, the inventor of the urinal, couldn’t figure it out, we may be doomed.

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