Just where does fiction stop being a lie?
Created | Updated Dec 23, 2003
Truth, the human condition, and the necessity for a fib or two, all for the sake of philosophy and logic, not to mention a new and improved washing powder.
This week, here at IPR, YFITA, we have engaged another in a long and protracted series of serious discussions about trivial matters that should have been taken care of once and for all in the sixth form.
That they weren't, not even hardly, I consider to be a signal triumph of modern progressive education.
You wean 'em, then kick 'em out into the cruel world...
to get their information from half-baked experts on the radio!
Thank you very much. I am so happy to have to listen to, and, sometimes, edit the comments of, these blithering....
#click#
__________________9o6__________________
I'm sorry, that person no longer works here.
Back to the topic at hand.
Here are the Coriolis Dancers, doing a fantasy fandango to a medley from the works of Benjamin Britten,
played by the East Wessex Boy's Athletic Club Kitchen Band, led and directed by Dr. Ernie Poy Plert.
The Blokes of the Runt Table
Moderator:
Hello, and good evening. My name is Erasmus Sumac and I will be hosting and refereeing this evening's little tete.
I also say Welcome and good evening to Sir Timothy T. Forcener,
of the New Driveway Forceners, late of bowls championship fame, Dr. Ippy Poy Plew, of the United Corrugated Tin Mangler's Guild and Reading Group,
at the Pickled Acres Estate Council Maintenance Shed and Family Life Center, just to the left of the golf course and straight on toward the embankment,
Professor Ray Ray Raymundson, Director of the Cyclecar Ralley League of Ponnie Lane, Swordwoundhealing,
Zim, and Tina Marie Collander, the esteemed writer and illustrator of Modern Feminist Science Fiction Romances
for People of Color Who Really Don't Want To Be Thought Of Anything But Just Plain People,
who has had two bestsellers on the Rotating Busstop Rack Sales Gazette list for the past three years.
Welcome all.
R.R.R.:
I resent the condescenscion in your description of Miss Collander.
T.M.C.:
I think it is condescending for you to pretend to defend me.
Dr. Plew:
Let's not get into that, again.
Sir F.:
Oh, you've heard these two before? Going at it, I mean?
Dr. Plew:
No, but it is a well-recognized pseudo-intellectual ploy to go on the attack as early as possible, so as to gain the indignant high ground.
It is designed to unsettle everyone else, including the listener, and it serves notice that nothing of any real import is going to be discussed today.
R.R.R.:
Are you referring to me?
T.M.C.:
Oh, sure. Sure he is. Yeah, all about you.
So, Dr. Plew, that means that anything I say is thus invalidated as a ploy by your willingness to beat me at my own game by telling everyone that I am cheating?
Sir F.:
I don't understand what is going on. Will you intercede, sir?
Mod:
Not until I understand what it is I am interrupting!
R.R.R.:
I'm lost, too.
Dr. Plew:
See? Everything's ground to a halt.
T.M.C.:
Well, you can't blame me. An object at rest tends to remain at rest. An object in motion tends to remain in motion.
R.R.R.:
So, you were talking before you were born?
SFX: Laughter. The bottled, not canned sort, if you've got it.
Mod:
Okay, this, I understand.
T.M.C.:
One can see why you would.
Dr. Plew:
There she goes again!
T.M.C.:
Anywayyyyy! I thought there was supposed to be a topic at hand here.
Does anyone remember what it was?
R.R.R.:
Is she being controlling?
Dr. Plew:
Yes. Why do you ask?
R.R.R.:
My therapist says I am unconsciously into submission.
Mod.:
In that case, go wash my car. And use your own shirt for a chamois!
SFX: silence
