S.T.R.A.W. origins / Hugo Eyestay

[Two guys sitting at a bar]

Tim: Ugh.

Dave: What's the problem, Tim?

Tim: Nothing.

(uncomfortable silence)

Dave: C'mon man. Something's up. Lay it on me.

Tim: It's just. . . I mean. . . Look, we've been coming to this beverage dispenser for a while now.

Dave: (a little to proud of himself) Many many years.

Tim: And we sit at this table, we talk about this, we chat about that, we have a few laughs. . .

Dave: That we do.

Tim: It's just that. . . and I don't mean to complain. . .

Dave: Spit it out man!

Tim: The beverages we drink. The receptacles they reside in. They're so far away from our mouths.

Dave: What do you mean?

Tim: It's like this. So there's the liquid conveyor-

Dave: Ben?

Tim: Yeah Ben, the liquid conveyor.

Dave: I love Ben!

Tim: Yeah Ben's a great guy. I'd fucking take a bullet for Ben. That's not the point. Shut up!

Dave: Sorry. Go on.

Tim: The liquid conveyor. Ben. He's got all the beverages there behind his embankment. His job is to accept our paper and metal coins in exchange for tasty beverages that are ingested into our primary head orifice, right?

Dave: Damn straight.

Tim: OK good. So if his job is to transport the liquid from the primary canisters behind his embankment to our primary head orifice. . .

Dave: Yeah?

Tim: (rubbing his forehead) Then why am I sitting here staring at a secondary beverage canister, containing all the liquid I exchanged my hard earned paper and metal coins for, literally a good foot away from my lips?

Dave: I'm not following.

Tim: It's because you're not properly assessing the current situation. Allow me break it down for you. Let me know if you agree.

Dave: Hold on. This sounds important. Allow me to hoist my secondary canister up towards my primary head orifice so that I may partake of a sizable portion of the liquid, thereby quenching my thirst so that I may fully concentrate on, and appreciate, the self-ascribed poignant words you are about to utter.

Tim: Please do so. It will more effectively illustrate my point.

(Dave takes a big gulp of beer)

Dave: Continue.

Tim: It's like this. The vast majority of beverages, when distributed for purposes of immediate consumption, reside in a receptacle (making a hand gesture towards his glass of beer) that while adequately harboring the liquid and allowing for convenient transportation and eventual placement on any flat surface, require the partaker of the liquid to expel energy in the manner of lifting the vessel to the partaker's mouth and tilting the receptacle at a precise angle that ensures the liquid gently flows across the tongue toward the back of the throat. Any significant variance of the aforementioned angle may result in too much liquid (i.e. spill (i.e. angle too great)) or not enough liquid (i.e. prolonged thirst (i.e. angle too small)) entering the partaker's primary head orifice which, I think we can both agree, can be classified, and this is putting it mildly, as unsatisfactory.

(long pause as Dave ponders)

Dave: OK. . . Can I say something?

Tim: Sure.

Dave: I think you just blew my mind!

Tim: You're fucking with me.

Dave: No, I'm not dude! I totally hear you! Here I am, needlessly extending my upper appendage over and over again in order to move the secondary canister in a direction opposite of that which gravity would have it move when, in fact, it was the liquid distributor's duty, fucking Ben's job, to transport that liquid into my mouth.

Tim: Exactly! You're doing half his job!

Dave: I'm sitting here hoisting shit like a fucking asshole!

Tim: So you're with me!?!

Dave: 110%

Tim: OK then.

(both Tim and Dave take a big drink of beer)

Dave: So Ben's kind of a dick then?

Tim: No. I don't think so. It's not Ben's fault. It's not like Ben can magically transport the frothy beverages directly to our mouths. In order to do that we'd have to relocate our bodies behind the embankment and invert ourselves so that our primary head orifices could receive the liquid via a direct transport from the primary canister.

Dave: Like a keg stand.

Tim: Basically.

Dave: Yeah that's not really feasible. I mean patrons need to be able to partake of their beverages from the various chairs, stools, and tables located throughout the establishment.

Tim: Right. So the problem is not with Ben. We like Ben.

Dave: I'd fucking die for Ben!

Tim: The problem lies within the energy wasted in the act of repeatedly extending out upper appendages toward the secondary canister that's a full 30.48 centimeters away, and then navigating that canister in a direction opposite of which gravity would have to go, all the way to our parched lips.

Dave: It's that distance from our lips to the secondary canister that's the real problem.

Tim: Yep.

Dave: Have you considered reversing gravity?

Tim: I certainly have. Looked into it big time. Did a deep dive. It's not easy. I'll leave it at that.

Dave: Liquid teleportation?

Tim: Equally difficult.

Dave: Shit.

(long pause)

Dave: What about an apparatus?

Tim: How do you mean?

Dave: An apparatus that somehow connects the secondary canister to our primary head orifices thereby alleviating the need to expel precious energy fighting gravity and physically transporting the beverages to our waiting lips.

Tim: That the liquid can travel through.

Dave: Like a tube.

Tim: Yes! Yes! A fucking tube or some sort! Brilliant. . . But wait. . . No. . . No this isn't going to work.

Dave: Sure it will.

Tim: How? With batteries or something? I mean will you have to plug this tube into the wall and walk around the place with an extra long extension cord? Walking around like some jackass with a tube with a cord? I mean the liquid isn't just going to travel from vessel to orifice at our beckoned call. It'll require some sort of machinery and engineering to force the beverage's proverbial hand. If you have to take the time to charge your tube battery or fire up its diesel engine that defeats the whole purpose. It needs to be easier than extending our upper appendage and hoisting the secondary canister, not harder.

Dave: No dude, it won't. Air pressure. Listen. By attempting to inhale more air with your lips wrapped around the apparatus you decrease the air pressure in your primary head orifice which lowers the air pressure at the top of the apparatus. The force of the atmosphere reacts to this by pushing on the liquid in the secondary canister harder than it pushes on the air in the apparatus. As a result the liquid will travel up the apparatus from the secondary canister to our lips.

(Tim & Dave stare at each other, smiling, slowly nodding, in awe)

Tim: I say we call it the anti-gravity beverage booster.

Dave: How about the tongue tunnel?

Ben: I think you should call it the Supplemental Transport Receptacle Apparatus Wand.

Tim & Dave: Ben!!!!!!

Dave: I fucking love this guy!

The immeasurables / Rodney Booksbehind

Boss: . . . and that's why it's important that we take a step back and reevaluate the whole invoice approval process.

Dave: I absolutely agree.

Tim: Me too. 110%.

Boss: Glad to hear. So Tim, since you seem to be a little more on board with the whole idea I think I'll designate you Team Leader.

Tim: Perfect. I'll promise you'll be pleased with the results. We'll work around the clock and give 120%.

Boss: That's the spirit! OK, next order of business is the Q3 budget.

Dave: Wait a minute. I agreed with everything you said. I think it's a great idea too. Why is Tim Team Leader?

Boss: Well Tim more than agreed with me. He agreed with me plus added another 10% on top of that agreement. You, on the other hand, absolutely agreed with me but stopped there - didn't feel the need to take it to that next level.

Dave: But that's not possible. We both think your idea is exactly what needs to happen. We are even in that regard. If anything I think it makes more sense for me to be Team Leader as I'm more qualified.

Boss: Tim? Thoughts?

Tim: Well Dave is better suited to tackle the project. With that I agree 150%. He's been here longer, he's more familiar with the invoices than I am, and he has a better track record in terms of completing projects in a timely manner that meet your expectations. No argument there. My only question is whether you are looking for the guy who will do exactly what you are asking for in the requested time frame or do you want the guy who will do that AND an additional 25 to 35%?

Boss: An extra 25 - 35% you say? On top of the 100? I gotta be honest with you that sounds even better than the original 110% you promised.

Tim: No, I agreed with you 110%. I promised the team would give 120%. Now I'm saying I'll complete the project within the degree range of 125 to 135%.

Boss: Sounds pretty impressive. Dave, care to counter?

Dave (really agitated now): That doesn't make any sense. Let's say this glass of water here represents all that this project encompasses. The water is the research, the project timeline, the implementation, the trouble-shooting, and the post-launch support. Now I take this glass of water and pour in into this empty glass. I pour every last drop of it. I pour 100% of the water into this new glass. Once all the water is poured the project is complete. There's nothing left to pour. I can't pour more than 100% of the water. As Team Leader I can promise you 100% effort and guarantee 100% completion and ensure 100% satisfaction. Anyone who tells you they can get more than all the water out of the glass is just spouting corporate mumbo jumbo!

Boss: (pondering).

(Tim casually leans across the table and spits into the full glass of water, adding just a little more.)

Tim: 110%.

Boss (pleased): See that there, Dave? It's the small things. The immeasurables. Anyone will tell you that.

Dave: This is ridiculous. Fine. Then let me go on record saying that I disagree with your decision 5000%.

Boss & Tim: Ha Ha Ha.

Boss: Now we all know that's impossible. There's no such thing as 5000% of anything.

Tim: Tops is like 160, 170%.

Boss: Exactly. Which is why I think Tim's our guy for this project. Willing to go that extra mile without being unrealistic. Now onto that Q3 budget. . .

The Initiation of the Termination (the beginning of the end) / Duke Roundhouse

Soundly overmatched, the terminator lies on a metal grate, face down, badly damaged, reaching for its sawed off shotgun. The technologically superior T-1000 calmly picks up a metal pole, drives it into the terminator’s back, and twists the pole back and forth in a manner one can only assume would wreak maximum possible damage. The terminator reaches back in a futile attempt to stop the attack, metal screeches, the pole passes through the terminator’s solar plexus thereby impaling it on the metal grate walk-way and little lightening bolts shoot amongst and across its leather clad body. The terminator ceases to struggle and goes limp, only inches away from the sawed-off shotgun. It’s exposed mechanical eye, once glowing red, slowly dims and turns off. The T-1000, having disposed of its opponent, leaves to complete its mission: locate and terminate John Conner.

Moments later the terminator’s eye once again begins to glow. The machine is not destroyed. . ____________________________

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Guess this terrible profession / Coddle Poppers

I spend an inordinate amount of time inches away from a beautiful woman I'm secretly in love with.

I have to listen to the same fucking song 50 times a day.

This woman doesn't love me back but she always smiles at me which makes it easy to think I still have a chance.

I'm cold mostly all of the time.

I'm really good at spinning and gliding fast.

I touch this same woman's butt and crotch area repeatedly whenever the aforementioned song is played but not in a sexual way.

I sometimes dress up like a stereotypical indian with tight pants when there are a lot of people watching me.

I'm judged all the time.

If I'm not extra careful at any point I could easily fall and really hurt myself.

I don't know how to do any real cool jumps or anything.

I am an Olympic ice dancer.

Several people trying to look like an elephant / Barney Pildegrass

Note: The following takes place in a world free from social graces, self consciousness, regularly scheduled meals, and deadlines. In short, a world much different than ours. In long, people in this world barter ideas for goods and services in lieu of any form of currency. They keep detailed records of bowel movements and record them in pocket-sized journals that they customarily share when meeting each other for the first time. In this world glass has yet to be invented. The concept of personal hygiene exists but it focuses on body parts from the waist down rather than the waist up. As a result no one in this world has ever heard of the word "hairdo". Also birthday's are a much bigger deal here. Pretty much everybody has their birthday written down all over the place (did I mention that in this world people have terrible long term memory? No? Sorry, they do). Since people are always forgetting their birthdays they often jot it down on white boards in their offices, write it in their grocery lists, in their bowel movement journals, spray paint it as graffiti in their own homes, and sometimes tattoo the date on their forearms. Since there are no windows (see above concerning glass) it's commonplace for people to paint elaborate scenes on walls, doors, and buildings. Oftentimes these scenes depict what very well may be going on on the other side of the wall or door which makes it all the more puzzling that no one has figured out how to make glass. I mean they have radios and damns and nuclear weapons and have figured out the assembly line and all that - why no glass? It's odd. But I digress. . . In the scene below several people from this world are attempting to make themselves look like an elephant by contorting their bodies and such. This type of thing wouldn't be all that strange to encounter in this world as the person to look the most like an elephant would have a pretty good idea on their hands which could be exchanged for a decent meal or a ride to the airport.

Narl: Not bad but your feet are too close together.

Toon: How about this?

Narl: Better but still not doing it for me.

Deppi: Have you considered using a fake leg?

Toon: The thought crossed my mind but I thought the whole purpose was to was to attempt to look like an elephant without the use of a costume or other props.

Klux: I don't know. I think certain inanimate objects could be used as long they were used in an abstract way with a creative spirit and didn't include pieces from an actual elephant or elephant costume.

Firl: Hey guys! Look at me! Check this out!

Deppi: No Firl. You're doing it all wrong. That's how we were all doing it yesterday but it looks more like an elephant if you use your left arm as a trunk like this. The way you're doing it you look more like an anteater. It's missing a certain 'regalness' that the elephant undoubtedly exudes.

Firl: So you mean like this then.

Narl: No Firl. You're legs are crossed and they shouldn't be.

Klux: Fucking Firl.

Toon: If I use my right arm for a little support I can stick out my butt out like this and provide the illusion of a powerful hindquarters while maintaining the the whole truck idea with my left arm.

Klux: Tilt your head a bit and stick out your tongue. Might even look like tusks.

Toon: (tongue sticking out) Wike Dis?

Deppi: Wow!

Narl: Ho - ly Shit.

Klux: If you squint a little that could almost pass for a bonafide elephant!

Firl: Hold on let me try. . .

Deppi: Again, Firl, not even close.

Klux: It's settled then. I think inventing glass is a super idea. Thanks Toon!

And just like that, this different world became just a little less different.