Bizzaro Colonialism

A HIYLH Short.

Not as short as some others, but still, pretty short:

http://www.xtranormal.com/watch/13219221/historical-figurez-movie

The Worst Introduction of All Time

The person who was to introduce today’s speaker is stuck on an elevator so I have to do it. According to these notes, Doctor Meckler is a doctor in the same sense that Duke Ellington was a duke, or Count Basie was a count, or Queen Latifa is a queen, or Elvis Presley was a king,  or Michael Jackson was a king, or B.B. King is a king. Well, not exactly like B.B. King, because he’s also a king the way Larry King is a king, or Alan King was a king, or Martin Luther King was a king, or Carole King is a king, or Billie Jean King is a king, or Stephen King is a king, or King Vidor was a king. After you say “king” enough times in a row, it starts to sound royally strange.

Doctor Meckler has read dozens of authored books, many of which are household names.  In fact, one of the books that Dr. Meckler nearly finished last year is entitled, appropriately enough, “Household Names.”

A while back, there was a rumor that Dr. Meckler was on a short list of candidates to receive an honorary doctor of something from a school indifferent to its accreditation status, but the dean who was pushing the nomination got stuck in the subway, and we see how history sometimes repeats itself and life comes full circle.

Dr. Meckler can count to eight in 12 languages, eleven of which are totally made up – by Dr. Meckler.  The Meckler Academy of Talking (there’s that "king" word hiding --see it?) works tirelessly to try to peddle these languages to unpopular countries and splinter groups whose own native tongues have become a little farshtuken, so far, without much success. 

But “perseverance” is the catchword at the Meckler Academy of Talking. Others liken this catchword to a leaky faucet that runs all day and night until the peculiar behaviors resulting from sleep deprivation set in. The Meckler Academy of Talking follows the economy-of-words approach, so it prefers “perseverance” to that other description.

Well-known to various faculty members and administrators at some of our more renowned institutions of higher learning, as well as to the campus police at these ivy-covered halls, Dr. Meckler has distinguished himself in academia by successfully deflecting a number of stalking allegations. He has also been the distinguished recipient of more lifetime bans than any other person in his field.

The subject of this afternoon’s talk is talking – the kind that, with high-pressure sales techniques, either gets people to give you money or apply for a court order.

There will be a brief question period following the Talk. Dr. Meckler generally does not provide answers, but he has agreed to sign books or other things you may have on your person.

Our speaker will be keeping his remarks to a minimum because the cafeteria closes at 5. 

The Banality of the Near Death Experience

Describe your near death experience.

My soul rose up out of my unconscious body so that I could see everything in the hospital room and hear everything that was being discussed. This would have been fine, except that instead of hovering at a safe distance like a normal soul, mine kept floating  upwards until it bumped its head on the ceiling.

What emotion were you experiencing at this time?

It’s hard to put into words.  It felt sort of like a klop in der kopf.

You could hear what people were saying even though you were unconscious?

Yes. My family members were gathered around, and I could hear the doctor say to them, “call me crazy, but I feel like we’re being watched from overhead.”  Then he started looking under all the plants for listening devices.

How did your family members react to this?

Exactly as I knew they would.  They made a bee-line for the cafeteria because it was meatloaf Tuesday.

Why had you come into the hospital in the first place?

To give a urine sample.  And the next thing you know, my soul is pulling a nutty.

After your soul hit the ceiling, what happened?

I started to cross over into another dimension, but it was taking a long time.

Why is that?

Who knows?  There was some kind of hold-up, as tends to happen in these experiences. One of the souls at the front was having trouble getting their shoes back on or something. My soul kept thinking to itself: ‘What!?  No loafers!?  Gimme a break!’

Did you meet any departed relatives or spirit guides when you crossed over?

There were beings there who were just glowing inside and out. I’m fairly certain they were guides.

How could you tell?

They were holding umbrellas aloft so that the souls in their group could see where they were at all times and not get lost.

Did you feel an unconditional love emanating from these spirit guides?

Kind of.  Actually, it was more like unconditional annoyance. But it was very loving.

Why were they annoyed?

Well, I have that effect on people.  Also on spirits, evidently. 

Did these guides have a particular sex?

Oh, not at all.  They were Canadians, I’m pretty sure, but beyond that, it was all very ambiguous.

What makes you think they were Canadian?

Nobody seemed to hate them.  And they kept saying “Je me souviens” and crazy stuff like that.

Were you shown a retrospective of your life?

I was shown a “highlights reel,” I guess you’d call it. A lot of it consisted of close-ups of restaurant tabs.

Restaurant tabs?

Yes. Apparently I have left sub-optimal tips in a number of establishments during my lifetime.  So in the highlights reel,  there would be a close-up of a restaurant tab, and then the scene would cut to the wait-staff weeping in the back room (I guess to demonstrate how my life has touched others).

Did the spirits communicate with you during these moments?

  There was a lot of tisking. It was telepathic, to be sure, but it was unmistakable as an admonishment all the same.

At some point, were you given a choice about staying on the other side or coming back to your body?

No.  Pretty much they said (telepathically, remember):  “Time to go.” All-in-all, they were pretty decent about things, and courteous, of course, but it was pretty clear they wanted me to leave.

Did they tell you that, even though all was perfection where you were, you would need to return to Earth, to a body in pain or in need of healing?

What healing?  I had given a urine sample and  passed out for a spell.  Frankly, I think my soul jumped the gun.

Didn’t you have questions for the spirits?

Yes, but after the first one, I could tell they were reaching their breaking point.

Did you confirm that suffering is good of the soul?

It turns out that’s a crock. Hedonism is good for the soul among other things.

Surely they instructed you that one gains merit in the afterlife through the performance of good deeds in the material world?

Nope. According to them, it’s every man for himself.

That’s what the spirits told you?

In a manner of speaking.  Or, actually, not.  They give you a look.  They don’t have to say anything.

Are you sure you really had this experience and that these were bona-fide afterlife spirits?

Look.  I trusted them. They had name tags that said things like:  “Hello my name is ________.  Welcome to the Afterlife.”

But none of this seems to fit the NDE model established through thousands of interviews.  Your story just doesn’t ring true.

Oh yeah?  Then my soul would like to get its money back.  And I’ll tell you another thing;  the commemorative Afterlife pen has started to leak already.