[Steve was talking about how the US’s natural enemy switched from the Nazis to the Soviet Union after World War II, and then I mentioned something about the nuclear stockpiles/deterrent.]
[Affects a serious look.]
Ahhhhh, the Cold War. Yes.
Whither Earthlings
Allie in her own words.
Category Archives: sweet mother of cheese
On an argument between two gentlemen.
[The assignment was to write a rhyming poem using Shakespearean insults and language.]
Shakespearean Insult Poem
Thou beef-witted, beetleheaded bugbear,
Thou canst not have her, she is so fair.
Nay, thou rough-hewn, dizzy-eyed, half-faced cloakbag of guts,
I am the swain for her, I shall wield mine sword and give thee cuts!
Fie, I am the better sword-fighter, thou art just a puny loser –
Thou beslubbering barnacle, thou shalt truly lose her.
Pish! Thou canst not fool me; I have seen thee in action.
But thou art cowardly, it is I with the true passion.
Hark! Here comes the lady…
Ye slimy dog-hearted louts! You darest yell in front of my door?
You are bumptious. And you are craven. And I… require more.
On What The Hell?
[Allie has been blasting Adele’s “21” on repeat. She pauses and comes into the office.]
You know, the lyrics to these songs don’t sound like an actual adult. They are more dramatic and immature – kind of like a teenager. I mean, I still like it, but…
On wishful thinking.
Hey buddy, I think your music may be a little loud.
WHAT???? Sorry, could you speak up?
Ha. I think your music might be a bit loud – especially since you couldn’t hear me.
Oh, come on, Mum – it’s not too loud, I’m practically a teenager in most respects!
On dark poetry.
[A poem, written in the dark after bedtime.]
O,
the irreversible sleep,
the irreversible sleep.
O, death!
On our daughter, Erik Selvig.
Hey mum! Look at this… [She shows me a long list of names.] It’s a list of all the people that are my BFF’s.
That’s cool, kiddo.
I also have badges. As members of The List, they will be entitled to wear them when they come over.
[I look down, and am astonished to note that she is not wearing any pants.]
Dude! Where are your pants?
Oh, I took them off. I’m airing out the privates. [Beat]
And quite honestly, it helps me work better.
Erik Selvig, noted physicist and repudiator of pants
Whither Earthlings 