"Oh great, the idiots have the box!"
Oddly enough, this has a tangential connection to
badmagic's poll o' the day. Some Oxford scientists believe in parallel universes. What the hell does that have to do with boxes? If you watch Futurama, you know the answer to that.
Just think of it! In one universe, I've probably won the Powerball jackpot by now, and I can buy and sell all of your sorry asses.
In another universe, I seized upon an offhand compliment from my Little League coach and learned how to pitch. Now, I'm the bullpen ace for the playoff-bound Orioles. (I totally didn't spend a good chunk of my commute daydreaming about this and tingling with excitement by the time I got to work.)
In some other universe, I've put off writing my third play so that I could oversee production on a film adaptation of my first hit play. The movie will star Mandy Moore, who I'm totally dating.
In yet another universe, President Bush's wiretap and Internet monitoring policies have gotten me exiled from the United States, doomed to live out my life on a secluded island. The island has been equipped with expensive virtual reality technology. Between this technology and the psychotropic drugs I am fed each morning, I believe that I am stuck in a harrowing Choose Your Own Adventure story, where 95% of the outcomes find me drowned/suffocated outside of the Earth's atmosphere/eaten by grizzly-shark hybrids/buried alive/asphyxiated on my own vomit at a Dairy Queen/shot in a duel/imprisoned for life by conspiratorial monks/burned to death inside a volcano/licked to death by cute kittens/crushed by a boulder shaped like Fatty Arbuckle/enslaved by undead Egyptian Pharaohs/infected with malaria while carelessly walking barefoot in a Six Flags bathroom...it goes on like this.
So, what's going on with Parallel Universe You? Is it a gangster planet or a cowboy world or some such?
badmagic's poll o' the day. Some Oxford scientists believe in parallel universes. What the hell does that have to do with boxes? If you watch Futurama, you know the answer to that.
Just think of it! In one universe, I've probably won the Powerball jackpot by now, and I can buy and sell all of your sorry asses.
In another universe, I seized upon an offhand compliment from my Little League coach and learned how to pitch. Now, I'm the bullpen ace for the playoff-bound Orioles. (I totally didn't spend a good chunk of my commute daydreaming about this and tingling with excitement by the time I got to work.)
In some other universe, I've put off writing my third play so that I could oversee production on a film adaptation of my first hit play. The movie will star Mandy Moore, who I'm totally dating.
In yet another universe, President Bush's wiretap and Internet monitoring policies have gotten me exiled from the United States, doomed to live out my life on a secluded island. The island has been equipped with expensive virtual reality technology. Between this technology and the psychotropic drugs I am fed each morning, I believe that I am stuck in a harrowing Choose Your Own Adventure story, where 95% of the outcomes find me drowned/suffocated outside of the Earth's atmosphere/eaten by grizzly-shark hybrids/buried alive/asphyxiated on my own vomit at a Dairy Queen/shot in a duel/imprisoned for life by conspiratorial monks/burned to death inside a volcano/licked to death by cute kittens/crushed by a boulder shaped like Fatty Arbuckle/enslaved by undead Egyptian Pharaohs/infected with malaria while carelessly walking barefoot in a Six Flags bathroom...it goes on like this.
So, what's going on with Parallel Universe You? Is it a gangster planet or a cowboy world or some such?