It occurred to me today that I should not mourn the death of valid science.
I should get used to the fact that it is gone, and move on with life without.
So, I began to ponder, wouldn't it be interesting (now that science is dead), if I join the fray of the noveau-pseudo's and form my own observations about the universe.
So here goes: (WARNING: the following contains references to the Al
Gore's, bad acting, homo-eroticism and the blogosphere. NOT FOR THE KIDDIES!!!).
1) The world will end as the result of excessively poor thespian performances.
Here's the hypothesis (can we have those in the new science?) - the world will eventually end because we will all, ultimately, become bad actors (given that life emulates art and all).
The date of the implosion will be April 4, 2008 (at the Greater London celebration of the Bard's Birthdate).
What will happen here, essentially, is that a chain reaction will begin at this celebration event in which the audience begins to "bleed" into the performance (the acting was so poor on the stage).
The actual "acting" on the stage will have degenerated at this point to the level that everyone there ad libs at such a level that Hamlet begins to look like an episode of Family Guy (the episodes where there is a great deal of injected silence, to the point where you think about changing channels, but for some, odd, reason - continue watching). The performance will be rife with melodrama, Jerry Springer-esque incestual relations, beer, and fist fights.
It is widely rumored that Alec Baldwin and the rotting corpse of Paul Newman (although, his acting stinks so bad that no one is really sure he is dead) both drop trou and moon the booing crowd.
Well, of course, the audience (as the audience always does at such affairs) will be drawn into the "performance", at which point civilization will begin to break down into its "essence" (think Greek philosophy here).
Each "atom" (in the form of individual "thespians" from the crowd) will begin a reaction in which a sort of mass psychotic break takes place, in "piggy-back" style (appropriate for actors).
The truly humorous thing is that the acting in the crowd actually begins to take on Olivier qualities, and could one only observe the situation, one would certainly find it of the highest caliber entertainment.
The unfortunate thing is, anyone who observes it will immediately have a psychotic break and join in the "thes"-tivity.
Well, you can imagine just how fast this will spread. The entire planet will become populated by thespians in a, ahem, New York minute.
The culmination of this thespiaddict armageddon transpires when the last two educated inviduals left are about to be "infected".
One, a used car salesman from Walla Walla, Washington (who we only know as "Harvey") faces off with a young exchange student from Liberia who has just landed in America and was seeking his way from the airport to his host home via Harvey's car lot (a difficult thing to do when all the cabbie's are trapped in an un-ending episode of that highly-esteemed and classy show of the 70's "Taxi" (or was that "Taxi Driver", I get them so confused).
The exchange student, Yamballa (or "Yams", to his chums) had never even seen so much as a movie. The closest he'd come to a performance was watching two ants fight over a blade of grass (hardly qualifying).
The unique thing about this is, Yams was essentially immune to the bug (his immunity recognized by an underground group of Cock-fighters who predominantly got their entertainment from fighting with their cocks and seemed also to have a degree of immunity to the disease, along with some homosexuals who were already living in an alternative "staged" reality and found the new disease rather "ho-hum" - at some point we will have to delve into those underground groups who survived the bardeggedon) - but I digress.
Yams and Harvey it seems, were discussing the price on a 1955 Custom Country Club Nash Rambler when the "final act" was about to transpire.
A roving band of actors (led by none other than Albert Gore the toid) happened upon the scene and began producing a performance of that acclaimed work "Love Story" in which Al Senior and Al da toid portray the principle leads in homo-erotic incestual style.
Well, Harvey thought it a porno script (and who wouldn't, given the caliber of acting - did I mention the mutations? Yup. Nuff said)...at any rate, Harvey turned a flip and was nekkid before he hit the ground.
This scared poor Yams to a point that he took note of a rather thick rope hanging, seemingly, from the clear, blue sky at which point he lept into the air like a gazelle (practically leaping out of his loin cloth), grabbed ahold of the rope and - you guessed it, brought the curtain down on the entire planet.
One of the underlings told a reporter later that he could not get the picture of the two Al Gore's out of his mind as they descended netherward toking on a bong fashioned from a blogosphere (truly, a site to get your head wrapped around).
Next week's pseudo-scientific hypothesis: the world will end as the result of flaccid brains.