I noticed that I didn’t share a previous Oprah Cameo in the Pinko subconcious after having an entirely unrelated Oprah appearance just the other day.
There was some sort or natural disaster- flood or very slow tsunami- that involved waters rising slowly enough for me to randomly run into Oprah, explain to her why I am sometimes disappointed in her worship of comsumerism and her corporatification, and essentially her seeming apotheosis, but I really was saying these things in a friendly way. She wasn’t exceptionally mad at me and I helped her climb into a tree to escape at least temporarily the rising waters and then I was able to pass her Smokey and Pugsley and then climb the tree myself. I was happy that I could help her, but I was also happy that she was around so someone could help me save the doggies because otherwise the dream would have been terrible and sad. It is unclear if she gave me a pile of money.
The fresh one. I was on some hike with someone from work who I am mad at, but this hike somehow made me late for some function, and also made me late for being able to check my e-mail. Since I was unable to check my e-mail in the morning, the following ensued. I entered a large auditorium that was fairly full of people milling about waiting for the function to start. Was it Optionetics 2008??? Only the Random Randroid would know. Anyhoo, I meet Geenie Cola there and I am VERY surprised, but somehow weirdly not THAT surprised to see her milling about with Oprah. I walk up and Oprah hands me some handouts that are various scientists’ Curriculum Vitaes and I don’t really have a clue what is going on, but Oprah is talking to me like I should know what is going on and I think she might be a little bit put off by my seemingly unprofessional manner. She says she is excited to work with me on this important issue, and Geenie C. gives me a little bit of the silent communication of “go with the flow, it’s Oprah!!!!!!!!!!” So I do so. It happens that Oprah sent me an e-mail that I hadn’t had time to read explaining to me that she wanted me to help her find a head for the Oprah Stem Cell Institute (OSCI). I silently chuckled to myself that UC, stem sell lover and aficianado that he is. Would. Be. So. Pissed. Those are the breaks!
This is an odd one, and fresh from last night. This was one of those dreams that you have but don’t initially register upon waking up, but subsequently remember later in the day. Some might not remember the big B, but it is to their discredit and possible harm, as he represents a particularly dangeral form of the college professor. He was once an interesting and challenging practitioner of the web log, and while he had nary a cob logger, he would sometimes cob log himself out and about.
As an aside, I know Professor Berubé knows all, as is his dangeral wont, thus I expect him to find this page before either an Easterbrookian meteor or the Rapture render the point moot, but if he beats the ticking clock, I’d suggest some important things for the Prof. to increase his dangerous arsenal as I remain stunned that the hero of our subconscious lacks a RateMyProf chili pepper. If I may offer this advice.
I really can’t think of anything more annoying than student evaluations. We can, however, understand a little bit of the incredible danger involved in exposing oneself to Prof. B.:
Put your hand inside the puppet head indeed.
Anyhow, in my dream I was excited to receive a text message from my obviously good pal, Professor Berubé. His message was about how he had just left a movie theater having finally gotten around to seeing Speed Racer. He was ecstatic about the colorful family fare. My conscious mind was surprised at this evaluation of the film, but in my dream it seemed so obvious that he would love it as I did and as Kathleen did.
Upon waking and reflection I feel less sanguine about such harmoniousness of thought between our dear Professor and myself. In all seriousness, Speed Racer, is a film that could easily be denounced or praised on a numerous number of fronts. Compared to a wide swathe of the kid or family movie buffet, it certainly can be considered challenging. I’d consider writing a bit about it, but the discussion would be amongst myself as no one I know has seen it outside of my subconscious and Kathleen.
I’m still surprised we don’t get more write-ins to this bloggo. I know that this can only means the dreams we don’t get are super whacked out. mdhatter sends us a classic wtf but sleazy like YOUR dreams of the genre:
Kara Thrace [Battlestar Galactica. Starbuck. I think there are some people I am not reaching.- Pinko]
needed to learn multivariate calculus for a very important
mission. The hangar deck had long since been converted to a lecture
hall, and she sat in the middle of the hundreds of available seats. At
the lectern, 70 or more feet away stood the other person in the room –
my best friend Mr. Christopher X (an ACTUAL math professor). He was
the best Earth had to offer.
I missed most of the dialogue, but the last lines caught my ear –
“…..(unintelligible math garble)”
“What the frak is this!?”
“That’s how we roll here, Starbuck”
(ring ring) (ring ring)
fade to rerun of King of Queens