Once there was a column. And that column loved a medium-sized research university very much. And every Friday, of the handful of people to whom the paper was actually delivered, one young freshman would climb up the column's trash cultural references and swing from its skewering of celebrities at their worst. Sometimes, the column would talk to him about the XFL or Giga Pets or "Nash Bridges" or Pat Robertson's miracle faith-based protein shake. And the column was happy.
But time went by, and the boy became a sophomore. One day, the boy came by, and the column said, "Hey, did you hear the real father of Anna Nicole's baby is actually The Noid?" But the boy said, "I'm busy! Just tell me the weather."
"Oh, the weather. I guess I still do that. Well, this weekend looks mild and mostly sunny, with the exception of heavy rain continuing from last night into today. So if you're trying to decide whether to bring an umbrella along this morning, definitely do, and if you're trying to decide between ricin-injecting and non-ricin-injecting umbrellas, definitely pick ricin, because you never know when you might need to discreetly silence dissidents." And boy's station chief and the column were happy.
Years later, the boy didn't start his thesis until February and then sent the column multiple emails reading "TEN MINUTE HOOKUP SURVEY!! $$$ WIN $20 SERVICE MERCHANDISE GIFT CARD $$$."
"Offering a $20 prize for a survey sent to 4,000 people has an expected value of half a cent," the column replied. "And Service Merchandise? Didn't they close in, like, 1998?" But the column filled out the survey and was happy ... but not really.
Many years passed and the boy did not come back, but conceptual artist Christo came by and said, "Column, I want to make a billion copies of you and cover the Reichstag!"
"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," the column said. "I could fill the Astrodome with Clark Bars, but that wouldn't make it art, now would it?"
"The Astrodome ... Clark Bars! Brilliant!" Christo exclaimed. And when downtown Houston was destroyed by an inundation of melted chocolate several months later, becoming the worst candy-related disaster since the Boston Molasses Flood and the Cincinnati Nougat Riots, the column was happy.
After a long time the boy came back and said, "I'm broke, column. I advised my investment bank to go long on Jar Jar Binks Taco Bell collectible cup futures and lost billions. Can you feed me with apples from your branches?"
"Sorry, my boy," said the column. "I have nothing left ... both weather and humor were outlawed by Patriot Act V. I am sorry."
"That's OK," the boy said. "I hear newsprint blocks the Crimedog McGruff mindwave propaganda."
"You should have listened to me. I said the D.A.R.E. program was a Masonic conspiracy all along," the column admonished.
"Shh. Let me rest," the boy said. And the column was happy.






