A Few Good Mementos

For the past academic year, I have been a part of VoiceStream, a co-ed college a cappella group. My experiences there are inextricably linked to my acclimatisation to American social dynamics and hygiene habits, so I come away with mixed emotions. As with any intense relationship, it is the fight to maintain or generate real or imaginary pleasure that ultimately destroys it. So it has been for me, with women and musical groups. The dogged determination, inimitable talent and genuine friendships will stay with me after the music has faded, but rosy nostalgia will be marred by the memory of infrequent but regular clashes with the equally strong ego of the musical director.

Our final concert was this Sunday. To attuned viewers, our mutual respect for each other was silently and strongly communicated as we held the songs between us. A wonderful show left the audience standing in place, watching as parting and returning members embraced on stage, our larger-than-life silhouettes cast behind on the screen seeming to acknowledge the gravity of the moment.

Wholly clogged arteries, fat man

Dear America,

You've pumped up your couches, bumped up your airline seats and plumped up your movie theaters. Just this week, I read about the latest masterstroke* of American entrepreneurship: supersized toilet seats. Might I humbly suggest this is a flush in the wrong direction. Expand your minds instead of your waistlines to encompass the following novel idea. And since your flabby bottom line is always the cost, you can be heartburned, erm, heartened to know my alternative has economic merit. Instead of spending innumerable man-hours and dollars rebuilding the infrastructure of the nation one Barker Lounger at a time, why don't y'all stop eating so much fershlugginer food!

Note to radical splinter cells: Forget the water supply. Go for the sesame seeds. One week and 300 million burgers later, the country's yours.


*Masterstroke: [definition] The one that finally kills you, lardass.