Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Naomi: First Day on the Job
Naomi arrived at the sanitation building wearing delightful Gabbana & McQueen overalls and diamond-encrusted trainers specially made for the occasion by Jimmy Lagerfeld. Deploying her extensive grasp of Zen wisdom, she clapped herself gently with one hand and gave a beautifully wrapped box containing nothing to her supervisor, Al Petrone. 'My reign of terror,' she announced, 'the sole purpose of which was to draw attention to the teachings of the Enlightened One, is over.' Al handed her a mop. She prostrated herself and kissed his Timberlands. 'That's a first,' said Al. 'Of many, I assure you,' replied Naomi, wiping her lips with a 'folded fingerbowl' by Prucci, 'have you read Amanda Marcotte?' 'Not that I know of," said Al, 'now clean.' He pointed to a garbage-strewn, rat-infested corner of the building. 'I don't like your tone, most unenlightened and, like, negative, ' said Naomi as she threw her mobile phone at her boss. Al took out a small device and pressed a button. Naomi at once vomited and fell to the filthy floor. 'Neat, huh?' said Al, 'Got it from the Navy.' 'Back to square one,' sighed the social worker.
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A blog about, among other things, imaginary ideas - What ifs? and Imagine thats. What if photographs looked nothing like what we see with our eyes? Imagine that the Berlin Wall had never come down. What if we were the punchline of an interminable joke? All contributions welcome.
Priceless - your wit and the thought of Naomi with a mop. She might need a line or two to get her through. The humiliation of it. Poor thing.
ReplyDeleteWould it be cruel or too obvious of me to suggest that she looks like a mop?
ReplyDeleteFirst Boy George, now Naomi.
ReplyDeleteThe inevitable result of this will be that all the celebs will want to do some form of demeaning manual community service labour, as an acceptable A-list alternative to Celebrity Big Brother.
Nothing wrong with mopping or cleaning. At my last job, the toilets were cleaned by a globular man, who, each lunchtime, would waddle into the WCs with a trolley containing more hazardous brews and potions than a Health Protection Agency Bird-Flu Rapid Reaction Team. When he started his work, the toilets were covered in Jackson Pollock strafes of urine and faeces. By the time he'd finished, they were cleaner than Cliff Richard's day-dreams, and smelt like the breeze which filters from the pine-clad slopes of an Alpine meadow. Now that's job satisfaction.
ReplyDeleteGordon:
ReplyDeleteA 'globular' man who cleans the toilets.
That is wonderfully poetic. Can I pinch it?
I really like sitting back and watching you guys talk quietly among yourselves.
ReplyDeleteOf course, Brit. There's much more where that came from in my book, of course. Out this May.
ReplyDeleteHmmm. Your book looks somewhat hard going. Although I did 'read' Kant's Critique of Pure Reason as a student, so maybe I could handle it. After that bastard, Ulysses was a breeze.
ReplyDelete(I also baulk at the price.)
ReplyDeleteIt's completely self-contained, Brit. It's gonna be a hit with the WAGs, I reckon.
ReplyDeleteYeah, I didn't enjoy the Critique of Pure Reason either. But then I also struggled with Anglo-Saxon poetry.
I think you may be onto something there, Brit: scrubber-chic.
ReplyDeleteGordon, nice riff. By the way, although your book may be impenetrable, it is not because you can't write. Whereas, Kant couldn't. He was just a long-winded, humourless git. Was it Kant who people set their watches by as he took his constitutional each day? There you go: no good writer is that predictable.
Nobody likes a cheap-skate, Brit. Specially the ladies.
ReplyDeleteLook, I tell you what: I'll sign your copy. If the worst comes to the worst, and you don't like it, you can always sell it at a profit on Ebay in years to come.
The people of Konigsberg could indeed set their watches by him, as he passed their windows each morning. (Which begs the question, how did Kant set his watch?) He never left his native province, and never married. But, according to Bryan Magee, "He was bright and dapper in person, and amusing in conversation; he relished company, and never dined alone. The brilliance of his lectures became legendary."
ReplyDeleteBut, yes, Neil, he was an appalling obscurantist.
I remember trying to read the Critique at the launderette on Sunday afternoons, as my pants, socks and other articles chugged gently around in the washing machine.
ReplyDeleteThe effect was deliciously soporific.
Gordon, Amazon suggests that people who might be interested in your book might also be in need of translation services and then perhaps a hotel break in Hollywood. That sounds about right. Cunning.
ReplyDeleteI tend to keep my pants and socks on in the launderette. It avoids unnecessary attention.
ReplyDeleteI feel like I've stumbled into the den of a frat house. All the boys talking about Philosophy 101 and...toilets. Oh, yeah, and dissing the hot (albeit bitchy) girl who wouldn't even condescend to throw her phone at 'em.
ReplyDeleteAnd all the dirty socks everywhere!
I can tell girls aren't welcome here. Bye Brit, bye Gordon. Careful, you spilled some Bishop's Finger on the Kant study guide. Oh, who cares. Whenever you think of the Critique of Reason now, you'll smell barley and hops. Appropriate, somehow.
Gordon: True, but the soporificity is less delicious.
ReplyDeleteOh come, A Girl, I thought the exquisite fashion details were very unFrat House.
ReplyDeleteMoreover, Brit, I think most people keep their kit on when doing philosophy. Some time ago, I think, strip-chess was discussed in this forum. Perhaps, all serious, high-brow activities could be spiced up in this way? What do you think, A Girl? Or has my mind plumbed the depths of locker room depravity and I should be filled with shame? Cogito, ergo BUM.
ReplyDeleteEr, back to Naomi - oh never mind.
ReplyDeleteYes. Naomi. She will continue to be the darling of the gutter press.
ReplyDeleteIs that you Germaine? You've been stroppy ever since John Peel gave you the cold-shoulder.
ReplyDeleteI do have a question, boys. It has to do with the play/movie "The History Boys," by Alan Bennett, which I recently viewed. This play seems to indicate all English guys who go to good (public, boy-only)schools are latent or overt homosexuals. Is it true? I don't think it can be, but the story seemed to indicate a hotbed of male passions for...other males.
ReplyDeleteI thought the movie was absurd, A (Mean) Girl. I went to a very similar kind of school and there was barely a wiff of homosexuality. I don't think I was missing anything. It wasn't even very Frat Boy, just a school like any other really.
ReplyDeleteIt IS you Germaine! Look, you reviewed the History Boys on Newsnight Review.
ReplyDeleteIt's definitely Germaine. Read that original comment in her accent.
ReplyDeleteEspecially "And all the dirty socks everywhere!"
We all know how much she loves boys, hence the highly suspect questions about boarding school monkey business.
I went to a mixed school so am unable to assist Germaine with her grubby research.
....I've completely forgotten what i was going to say!
ReplyDeleteTo follow the thought (my thought, that is), this gives new meaning to the phrase, "Boys will be boys." The little joys. Their grubby toys. Their feints and ploys.
ReplyDeleteHmm. What does "The History Boys" imply about the ruling classes in G.B. (in politics, art, commerce, etc.), who all attended those schools? There's a very Greek feeling to all of this. Goes back to frat houses, to Pi Kappa Alphas and alpha males and, yes Germaine and Alan B.: Proust.
Where are the madeleines of yesteryear?
In Another Country.
But Germaine, I'm your biggest fan! You're the second most important Australian intellectual after Rolf Harris. The clarity and precision of your logic is truly, well, er, either incandescent, or perhaps even luminescent. Definitely some kind of escence. Oh yes, hang on, I know: It's excrescent.
ReplyDelete"We all know how much she loves boys, hence the highly suspect questions about boarding school monkey business."
ReplyDeleteThat made me ROTFL!
"I feel like I've stumbled into the den of a frat house. All the boys talking about Philosophy 101 and...toilets. Oh, yeah, and dissing the hot (albeit bitchy) girl who wouldn't even condescend to throw her phone at 'em."
ReplyDeleteWhat do you expect? That's like me going onto a female orientated blog and wondering about all the relationship/celebrity talk.
River of deceit has been, not deceitful, but very truthful: This is a "male orientated" blog and thus females aren't welcome.
ReplyDeleteSigh. I'll go to Oprah's blog and talk about you all there.
Come on, GG, females are always welcome. We'll even make you an honorary boy, how's that?
ReplyDelete