Conversations With Charlemagne

Often (usually while showering) I wonder what it would be like to kidnap someone from a more primitive time, bring him or her to the present, and try to explain the world of their future. I imagine it would go a little something like this:

Me: So, anyway, Chuck, this is a cell phone.

Chuck: [Speaks excitedly in some forgotten dialect of Old Frankish.]

Me: I see this is going to take some time.

[Assuming we can properly communicate…]

Me: Like I was saying, Chuck, this is a cell phone.

Chuck: A cell what?

Me: Cell phone.

Chuck: A what phone?

Me: Okay, this is a device that allows people in remote locations to communicate with one another.

Chuck: Fuck! It glows!

Me: Yeah, but check it out: I can use it to talk to a person thousands of miles away as if he were right here next to me.

Chuck: Are all people from your time powerful wizards?

Me: Pretty much.

Chuck: [Draws his sword.] Then I will scourge the necromancers of this land in the name of the Christ!

Me: No, wait! It’s just science!

Chuck: What is that, some kind of Moorish sorcery?

Me: No, it’s not fucking magic, you ape! This is a device that transmits information to orbiting satellites via radio waves. It operates on electricity, which--

Chuck: I’m not hearing anything that doesn’t sound like wizardry.

Me: Okay, here, just play with this pocket calculator while I check Wikipedia for a second.

Chuck: Yes, you consult your fantastical grimoire of charms and curses while I dash this unholy offense against the flat of my blade!

Me: Fine, go ahead. My phone has a calculator on it anyway. God, what a cretin.

[After re-familiarizing myself with the principles of electricity…]

Me: I see that you’ve managed to expertly disassemble that pocket calculator.

Chuck: I was quite surprised to see no imps spring from its corpse, though it seems perfectly reasonable to me that they should be invisible.

Me: Naturally. So anyway, to explain electricity I first have to explain electrons. Which means I kind of need to cover atomic theory. At least. I printed out kind of a worksheet you can follow along with to help grasp the basic concepts… and I can see that you’re bored already.

Chuck: Quite. Do you have any other unholy relics for me to smash?

Me: Okay, forget science. I didn’t want to do this, but you leave me with no choice. Behold… INTERNET PORNOGRAPHY!

Chuck: [Engaged in careful study.] These women…

Me: [Expectantly.] Yeah?

Chuck: Where is their hair? They are all shorn, as if mere babes!

Me: Oh, they’re babes all right. Check this out…

Chuck: And they are grotesquely emaciated. Are these women slaves of some kind, taken prisoner in conflict? Are they deprived of food for the sick pleasure of your race of vile magicians? Is it part of some demonic ritual?

Me: Charlemagne the chubby chaser, huh? You like the big women? You need a little cushion for the pushin’?

Chuck: As a god-fearing man, I prefer not to copulate with skeletons.

Me: Fine. Here are some fat girls taking it in all holes. How does that make you feel?

Chuck: It bores me.

Me: What!?

Chuck: Look, kid. I’ve waged war from the Spanish March to Saxonia. I’ve put thousands to the sword. I rule an empire. AN EMPIRE. Do you have any idea how much tail an emperor gets? Son, I’ve fucked more people than you’ve ever met.

Me: Oh. So being an emperor… that’s a pretty sweet gig, then?

Chuck: You couldn’t possibly imagine.

Me: I see. Need any wizards?

True Tales From the Shallow South: Stay Classy, Kentucky!

From the “I’m not racist, but…” file:

I bet Randall has spent many a sleepless night thinking about enticing black males.

Letter of Resignation

Attention: Human Resources
CC: God

When I joined this enterprise nearly 30 years ago, it was under the assumption that it was a growth-based firm with a clear vision for the future. In the intervening decades I have seen this organization’s seemingly unlimited potential squandered again and again on one fruitless, self-destructive enterprise after another. Thus, it is with a heavy heart that I tender my resignation from the human race, effective immediately.

My own personal growth with this company has been hamstrung by the incompetence of upper management, which seems content to wallow in luxury perks at the expense of progress. Worse than that, I have seen numerous programs falter under this entrenched attitude of entitlement and selfish aggrandizement, including (but not limited to) space exploration, alternative energy, solutions to ongoing geopolitical problems, waste management, and education of future generations.

At the very heart of my complaints is this defective corporate culture. I have held out hope for many years now that we were on the verge of a shake-up, a change in the board of directors that might send this company in the direction under which it at one time seemed destined. I am no longer able to hold on to such a foolish, futile hope. This company has set itself firmly down the path of a doomed future (and I do not speak of your half-hearted environmental programs, which is primarily an outgrowth of this inveterate self-love).

The truth is that this company will not last. Disaster is inevitable, and you have done nothing to prevent it—or even to mitigate the damage. Instead of securing a future for this company and its inheritors, you have satisfied yourself with being the last princes of a city on fire. We are surrounded—as literally as one can imagine—with resources ripe for the exploitation, in amounts that promise a prosperous future for untold generations. Again, management has preferred to use our treasure for their own ostentatious tombs. I can only hope that when your doomsday comes it will consume the last of your kind and pave the way for a new company to take its place: one with actual vision.

As the goals of this company and my own are in irreparable conflict, I have no choice but to depart. I can only hope that somewhere out there is a company willing to take up the mantle that this one has gleefully, bafflingly abandoned. If there is not, it will be necessary for someone to create one.

With not malice but sorrow,
Nobody Important