A number prime, he …

A number prime, he muttered,
A dagger in the din.

From Cosette: I’ve been reading your column pretty regularly and find your little comments amusing. Net: Hmm. Well, that’s good. We found your ‘little letter’ amusing as well. I can’t help but notice that you have something against people who wear electric blue Columbia jackets. Net: Au contraire — they have something against you. Every time someone writes to you with some whiny complaint, you try to blame their troubles on people who wear electric blue Columbia jackets. First of all, I do not think you even know what color electric blue is. I have never seen an electric blue Columbia jacket, I have only seen several royal blue ones. For your information, electric blue is more of a lighter, brighter hue than the typical blue Columbia jacket — it’s the kind of color that jumps out at you and makes you squint. Net: Our face is red; we stand corrected. Secondly, if there really are people out there wearing electric blue Columbia jackets, what is so bad about them that they must be held accountable for all of the annoyances here at the University? Do tell. Net: Our abilities to perceive falsehoods, facades and the future supersede our ability to perceive tincture. Funny, then, the irony — that King T’s mewling minions should be swaddled in royal blue …

From Inked: Hey Network, pardon my ramble. Net: Ramble on. But I have something on my mind after watching yet another person push God down my throat on TV. Net: Next time, tell them to turn off the cameras. I am sick and tired of people forcing their beliefs on me. God, God, God. Push, Push, Push. Religion, Religion, Religion. Shove, Shove, Shove. Net: Da, da, da. Do you see what I’m saying here? I’m sick of it! So if any of you yelling preachers, or professional athletes who say God gives me $10 million a year, or even you people who think the dog poo you just stepped in is a sign from God for you to wear sandals and want to tell everyone about it … enough already! Leave me alone! I’ll make my own conclusions about religion myself. I don’t need your help! Well, there you go, I feel better. Thanks, Net. Oh, if anyone cares, I’m agnostic, and “erm” is what people say after they step in dog poo with sandals on.

From The Dreamer: Greetings! This letter is in response to the message from Darren the so-called “victim.” Darren, you disturb me; you sound like a sick and confused freak. Net: As are all mimes. However, that is not the point on which I would like to expand.
I like to follow people in my spare time between classes. Net: Zzz … Zzz … ZzznxxHnkx … Wha?! Come again?! It’s ever so much fun to watch them turn around with mild suspicion in their eyes, wondering, “Is that guy following me?” Wouldn’t you love to know! I always act like I’m not paying the least bit of attention to them. I know, I know; I probably sound weird, too. Net: Sound weird?! Compared to you, Dreamer, Darren is Al freakin’ Gore! Anyway, the walking is wonderful exercise and I never had any problems until the end of last quarter, when I whimsically journeyed across campus behind a woman who abruptly turned around and threatened me. Net: Oh, we’re sure she was just amused and pleased with herself! I was so taken aback and humiliated that I have not followed anyone since. I really don’t want to seem like a threat to anyone, and I suppose it’s irritating to have someone trailing behind you everywhere you go. I would love to live in a place where people could feel completely unthreatened by each other. Net: Yeah, we can see it: “Oh, hello Mr. … ah … Stalker — nice to see you again! How did you know I was gonna be alone tonight? Care for a cocktail? Something to eat? A piece of my underclothing? And why are you wearing gloves?” I would just like to let all the sick freaks and stalkers know that they have ruined my good time (not to mention peoples’ lives) by propagating distrust in the community.
Oh, and Network, thank you for keeping me entertained during those hours when I have to sit in a classroom. Net: You need entertainment in a padded room, palie. Sheesh.

From Zaxxon: Oh mighty Network, let me first honor you for making my day worthwhile!! In regards to Virgin‘s letter — first of all, Ms. or Mr. Virgin, riding the bus takes common courtesy from all those on it. Net: And plenteous forbearance. And personal hygiene. And Certs. If someone accidentally hits you with their backpack, why don’t you let them know that they hit you? Net: Yeah, like this: “OUCH! Silly rabbit — you crowned me with your tumescent satchel! Why I oughtta …” I’m sure their goal was to hit you in the head, isn’t that what everyone likes to do — hurt someone they don’t know? Net: Nah, just follow them around, apparently. Do you think it is this person’s choice to stand in the aisle instead of sitting? Let’s just say once, you don’t get a seat on the bus. At a stop, people are trying to get off and you need to move out of their way, but there’s really nowhere to go. Hey — you might accidentally hit someone. What would you do then? Ponder that sweet Virgin. Net: 1) Laugh. 2) Run.
I think the basic understanding of most people with common sense is: [email protected]##t happens, DEAL WITH IT!! Oh, one last comment: If you don’t like it, get your lazy ass walking or take a cab and leave those seats for those annoying, backpack-toting, head-hitters!!
Net: Why can’t we just have a good, old fashioned stampede? Pushing, shoving, hair-pulling, name-calling … it’d be good practice for the arrival of “King T.” Have a nice weekend.