To the Barista Android:

Why is your default setting to put my coffee in a paper cup with a plastic lid instead of a ceramic mug? Who programmed you incorrectly? It’s Sunday today – do I look like I need my coffee to go? I notice everyone else has paper cups. I see you have plenty of clean coffee mugs. What is your malfunction?

To the girls sitting within earshot:

Stop talking about the sodium-potassium pump like it’s something complex, profound and/or meaningful. I don’t like that tone. You think you’re so insightful. There is so such thing as an ‘overshoot phase’ so stop calling it that. It’s called hyperpolarization. And don’t even think about trying to make that word sound special – it’s simply a description of what is happening. Or what we think is happening. Why don’t you break from the norm and conceive a new system to describe what is happening in cells?

The two of you are premed. I can just tell. Please quit now to become baristas that know when to give your customers coffee mugs.

From a media standpoint, the post-inauguration political climate is a refreshing change of pace from what were the grueling final hours of the Bush era, but that’s not to say the country’s condition has drastically improved. The fervor and momentum generated during the meteoric rise of Barack Obama set high expectations for the President and his party. And now they are at odds with each other, pushing the health care debate to take an errant left turn, which leaves us starry-eyed Americans with two inept political parties.

When George Bush left office he didn’t just leave behind a litany of foreign policy disasters and millions of crestfallen citizens who’d just been robbed at warp speed. He left behind an entire political party full of panic stricken nimrods who are now just crawling out of their beds with hangovers after an eight year long DC cocktail party. Since President Obama took office, the behavior of our understandably frantic Repulican party has become increasingly bizarre. Their image tarnished by the legacy of the Bush administration, the GOP finds itself in a sort of us-against-the-world standoff and any chance of a political revival doesn’t seem anywhere within the realm of possibility (at least not any time soon).

Results from a July Gallup poll have suggested that a majority of conservative Americans struggled when asked to identify a leading voice in the GOP, leaving talk radio host Rush Limbaugh in the lead with 13%. Aware of the obvious implications of recognizing a man who’s most notorious for spending his days in a vicodin haze and demonizing everything to the left of Ronald Reagan as their political mouth-piece, the Republicans resorted to a more media-friendly position and announced earlier this summer that the party lacked leadership.

But the claim that the GOP lacks leadership was really nothing more than a laughably transparent PR move; a lame attempt to quietly distance themselves from the very demagoguery that has reduced a once frighteningly effective political force to a group of clods slightly less popular than the last two M. Night Shamalayan movies. From RNC chairman Michael Steele’s mortifying diatribe to the recently televised meltdowns of Sarah Palin and Mark Sanford, it seems that the Republicans have just been throwing wood onto their fire. But this new trend in self-destruction doesn’t stop at the aforementioned buffoonery. What’s really most stunning is their inability to establish an effective strategy.

It might sound ignorant and, I suppose, even redundant to criticize the Republicans for being unpopular. Hell, if anything, they should be less popular than they are now. However, its unfair to say the GOP have no realistic chance of yielding support because it’s not as if the Democrat’s have been notably impressive.

Economic recovery has been sluggish and some of the President’s early policy decisions have been, well, unnerving. For instance, the sudden flip flop regarding the topic of ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’— a military policy Obama spoke so outwardly against along the campaign trail— has even the president’s most fervent supporters at sea. And after enduring the “Less about Wall Street, more about Main Street” platitude over and over in the wake of last year’s financial meltdown, Obama has appointed none other than bailout architect, Henry Paulson’s former wingman, Timothy Geithner to oversee changes to the financial system. Regardless of your undying optimism and hope for this administration, it’s difficult to ignore these less than pleasant contradictions and if the GOP alluded to these legitimate, yet debatable, arguments more often, they just might see some signs of political resurgence.

But seeing that Republicans haven’t presented any solutions of their own I may be jumping the gun to suggest that the administrations’ shortcomings necessarily help the GOP. Either way, it’s not only the semi-idle and sometimes contradicting nature of the Obama administration that is unsettling.

While the uninformed masses ambush town halls to protest a yet-to-be-finalized health care plan, Democrats continue to butt heads, squandering away their chance at real reform. The issue of Health Care was a centerpiece during Obama’s campaign and with nearly 50 million Americans uninsured today, the need for true reform is more dire than ever. But the overpowering influence of Insurance giants and other vested health care interests have been working to alter the outcome of legislation, threatening to turn the first chapter in this much-anticipated era of change into another all too familiar episode of Democratic Blunder.

Now the Health Care debate isn’t just this season’s most watched political spectacle. It’s a classic example of how quickly political discourse in this country can be derailed by half-truths, fear and corporate influence (the essence of the Republican Party). And to see Democrats double down so blithely, despite their overwhelming majority, is more than just infuriating. If our government is going to just stand by while two-bit hacks like Max Baucus hijack the process and run the entire thing into the ground, then what good are they really?

Although at the end of the day there is a faint glimmer of hope. Progressive Democrats in the house have been imploring Obama to continue his pursuit for a public option and, in tonight’s speech, the President will reiterate his position. I still like Obama, for a lot of reasons. For the first time in nearly a decade we have a President who seems like he actually cares about the American people. One that, unlike his predecessors, refuses to so brazenly embrace politics of fear and misinformation. And I think even the most hardened cynic can see the value in that. With the country in such a crippled state, we need a President who can lift the spirits of Americans as much as we need one who is legislatively successful.

Oh and as for Democrats re-election in 2010: Don’t worry about it, because the Republicans seem to be doing everything in their power to ensure that.

Fave Value has moved and changed name! Check out Sunshine Assassins.

There comes a time in every person’s life when they must appeal to a power greater than themselves.

In this particular case it was Susan Tillman.

The woman was on fire, she was pissed and it wouldn’t be a stretch to say she was this close to gouging Marnie’s eye out with a cuticle clipper. In all her melodramatic glory, Susie did not take disappointment well. Her short attention span, among that of her short temper, and her lack of patience with anything she didn’t gaze down on with a smile…all attributed to a diatribe which would make the most seasoned queen at the 90’s cringe.

“You crusty, puckered little cunt.”

“My cunt is not puckered,” Marnie said as she slipped past Susie and into the apartment. Then she frowned, wondering just what constituted a puckered cunt. “That’s a new one.”

“Yeah, it’s that natural reflex down there when you feel the threat of a forceful entry, which you are about to receive right now.”

“Are you going to rape me?”

“Close enough. You left me to have coffee, and cakes, and tea, and a full blown fucktard frat lunch with that weeaboo!”

“I had to –”

“You had to hypnotize yourself? Why would you want to do that? You promised, you made me get in contact with the weeaboo and then you left me there!”

Marnie sat down at the kitchen counter and swiveled in the chair. Reaching for a loose banana, she squinted her eyes at Susie. Yes, she had persuaded her to arrange a meeting; she had the intention of going to see that spectacle and fully enjoying the sight of such a creature.

Then came Julia and then came the podcast, which had wasted a good chunk of her day. The hypnotism didn’t work, that much was clear. Her inner voice hadn’t been brought out…anymore than it already was……and she didn’t feel like she needed to do anything at the moment. She wanted to rage on about it, but the energy just wasn’t there. She had no initial spark to pitch her into one of her usual bitchy tirades. As of now, she could care less about what she had forgotten to do. Susie, she wanted to say, I’m not sorry.

“I’m not sorry,” she said.

“Of course you’re not,” Susie said as her nostrils flared. “But you’re going to repent anyways.”

“Repent? Is this religious?”

“Shut up. You’re going to go see the Twilight movie with me and the weeaboo.”

“Twilight? Is that the one about emo vampires and Mary Sues, isn’t it?” Marnie asked, wondering where her usual sense of revulsion had gone.

“I asked the waptard to go see it with us.”

“She’s going?”

“Yes, she’s going. So you’re going to get it from both sides.”

“Am I going to be mouth-raped as well?”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I can swing that,” Susie said.

Several hours later and a trip to the corner store, the two of them had in their hands: student IDs, cash, 7up bottles filled with a cocktail of soda, lime juice, and an insensible amount of gin. It was Susie’s idea. Judging from her reaction to her last meeting with the waptard (scratching her skin red around her shoulders and an unnatural revulsion to anything animated), she wanted the best ward from what she thought was sure to be a hellish evening.

“What does she look like?” Marnie asked as she surveyed the crowds. The walk to the student union was like any other. The sun and dipped down behind the glass buildings downtown, casting a spectered sorbet hue over the campus. She found herself smiling at it.

Contrary to what she believed of herself, she was rather excited to meet this weeaboo. She stood on the tips of her toes and craned her neck above heads to get a glimpse of something she wouldn’t recognize.

“Oh,” Susie sighed, “There she is.”

Marnie snapped her head in the direction Susie was pointing. Again, she expected the usual curl of her lip at the sight, but instead, she felt her body go light.

The weeaboo was nothing like she had seen before. She floated along the mint grass in her platform Mary Janes. And her thin legs cased in tights looked like a peppermint candy stick. She was all alight, channeling colors of the sorbet. Her hair was twindling strawberry blonde curls and her face looked like she had walked through a candy store. Shit, she looked like she had walked through a candy store with a frilly lolita fetish.

“I want to eat her,” Marnie said.

“What?” Susie said as she gripped Marnie’s arm.

“Just look at her, she’s so…cheerful.”

“Marnie, are you okay?” Susie said, shaking Marnie just the slightest.

She pranced up and hopped to a stop in front of them.

“Heya! I’m Sara, but please call me Sa-chan!” she said with bubbly popping enthusiasm.

“Sa-chan?” Marnie said.

“Hai! It’s a kind of nickname in Japanese!”

“Japanese?”

“Un!” she nodded with a sweet, cholesterol charged smile on her face. “What’s your name? I know Susie, but you’re new!”

“No shit,” Susie spat. Her eyelids were hanging low and digging into Sara, eh, Sa-chan…whatever.

Oblivious to any malicious intent, Sara kept on smiling.

“It’s Marnie.”

“Marnie! Susie and Marnie! Ou, your names are so kawaii! Hold my te, please. This is some serious unme!”

“What?” Marnie said, but honestly, she wasn’t really listening.

Sara linked arms with Marnie and Susie, flanking herself with them on either side. Marnie noticed a band of fabric on her head spilling ribbons and lace like freshly sliced guts. She wanted to crawl inside Sara’s hair and camp there for the winter. It looked so sweet and sugary warm with honey and all sorts of cutesy goodness.

“Don’t forget the fucking gin,” Susie hissed behind Sara’s back.

Marnie nodded, but she was much too taken in by the colors emanating from Sara.

“Let’s go, shall we?” Sara said.

“Yeah, Sa-chan,” Marnie said with a syrupy quality to her voice. Susie choked on an extra large swig of the soda-gin concoction.

Once inside the student union theater, they were seated much the same as they had walked in. It was truly a sight to behold. It was safe to say that 90% of the audience was freshman girls, the other 9% fat, middle aged women. The last 1% was Marnie, Susie, and Sara, which was…pretty self-explanatory. Susie was liberal with her drink; she was half done before the movie even started.

Alongside the many voices exclaiming EDWARD CULLEN 4EVA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and REAL VAMPIRES SPARKLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! a fairy vending out snacks noticed the gradual tone the audience was taking. He saw the need to intervene, and so he did.

He climbed on the stage and announced his dance major and began to prance about with his snack tray hanging from his shoulders. Apparently he needed no music. Susie began to gag, Marnie handed her the last bottle of drink. Susie shouted jeers at the stage and managed to squeeze in a few comments liking Twilight to the kind of stuffs she’d wipe her ass with. More than a few tweens and their middle-aged counterparts turned around and threw something. Susie threw stuff back.

Marnie took it all in with a smile.

“Do you like Twilight?” she asked Sara.

“Oh, tabun, not much. But Susie-chan asked me to come, so of course I agreed. I never miss a chansu to be with by tomodachis! Dai chansu!” she exclaimed as she nodded and clutched her fists together.

“Ah…sure,” Marnie said as the house lights came down. Turning her head towards the screen, she saw the fairy slink off stage and the movie came on.

It was nothing like Susie had described. Of course, it was complete shit, but Marnie was unconcerned with that. She felt Sara gently wrap her lace covered fingers around Marnie’s hand and squeeze.

She heard Susie sigh across the way.

My sunny afternoon turned bitterly cold when I saw the NY Times homepage of my web browser – “At Least 12 Slain in Binghamton, N.Y.”

Maybe this gunman had his reasons, maybe he didn’t. Clearly, though, he didn’t consider life’s worth – he also took his own life. Claiming hostages in an immigration center, a place full of people craving to take part in the American dream, and showing them how ugly America can get is a perplexing irony whose motives I can’t grasp. What will it do? Had the man lived, his world would’ve been stripped of any kind of pleasure anyway, and he’d be left with a head-spinning guilty conscience to bear with for the rest of his days.

We pay such a high price to live. We pay to create life.

Obama’s executive order overturning stem cell research regulations has enflamed many conservative, religious, and all miscellaneous folk whose ethical beliefs disagree with the technicalities of the life status of embryos. I understand these beliefs. Everyone has reasons to judge as they see fit. Life shouldn’t be wasted. And thousands of couples unable to create it go to great lengths to nurture it, which of course, is why they fertilize multiple eggs in IVF, hoping at least one will succeed. Chances are slim, but multiple embryos sometimes form. So what does the couple do? They keep one, and leave the rest for the fertility clinic to take care of. What does the clinic do? Freeze them. Almost indefinitely, unless a desperate scientist comes along and pulls multiple strings to use the embryos for clinical research (not cloning humans, as some may believe).

But still, it has the potential to become life. Mind you, an embryo is removed from its cell after 3-5 days in the crafting of a stem cell – a point at which there are ten cells or less, none of them yet specialized to form organs. In any case, the comparison of existence at conception to the existence at age 20-50 (the approximated age range of the Binghamton hostages) gets arbitrary. The question (and my bittersweet conundrum) is why our culture is so quick to fight for the right to own guns, love violent film, but be extremely sensitive to young life. Whoever is the real killer of people, someone dies anyhow.

We love babies, but once they’ve grown into adulthood, we detain and torture them. We certainly don’t seem to value life in adulthood, so why bother getting that far? If human life is to be praised, we should first set our priorities straight by valuing it at all stages.

I’ve been working on another piece and its been taking me a while to finish, so in the meantime I thought I’d just write about a certain something thats kept me entertained for the last few days…

While Republicans and Democrats duke it out in Washington, another headline worthy exchange has been taking place within the media itself. Last week The Daily Show ran a segment about the business news networks and their clueless economic correspondents’, CNBC’s in particular. The feud began when Economic Analyst Rick Santelli was criticized for his televised tantrum on the floor of the Chicago Mercantile Exchange where he denounced President Obama’s plan to assist home owners who were fucked over by their banks’ bad loans. Santelli was scheduled to appear on The Daily Show later that week but cancelled… or as Stewart brilliantly put it, “bailed out”.

Along with the Santelli outburst were various clips of CNBC market analysts giving bad advice to investors. The one that’s received the most attention is of supposed economic guru, Jim Cramer, host of CNBC’s Mad Money. In early 2008 Cramer encouraged investors to buy Bear Stearn stock based on what’s known to be his dependable instinct. Weeks later Bear Stearns collapsed. Cramer, later in the year, went on to express his optimism about Bank of America stating “I like Wachovia but I think without a doubt, Bank of America is going to shoot up to $16 a share”. Today Bank of America stands at $4.93.

Here’s the actual clip. It’s pretty hilarious.

Anyway, after being confronted about the clips on The Today Show, Cramer confirmed he’d meet Stewart face to face on the program to discuss the debacle.

Excuse me but what the hell is wrong with Jim Cramer? Nevermind the fact that his credibility is already being questioned, why the hell would he even think about going on The Daily Show? Since you’re probably not as big a fan of Jon Stewart or The Daily Show , you probably don’t know about an eerily similar confrontation with former TV personality Tucker Carlson. In 2004 Stewart appeared on CNN’s television debate show Crossfire and stated that Carlson and his co-host, Paul Begala, were “partisan hacks” and charged them with “failing miserably” by not providing the public with an actual news show. Shortly after the appearance execs canceled Crossfire. Aside from the fact that this was probably one of the greatest moments in television history, Stewart made Carlson look like a total a dick and since then his career has reduced to fill-in guest appearances on Larry King Live. By going on The Daily Show Cramer is basically jeopardizing his television career even more.

He’s scheduled to appear on The Daily Show tonight. If you like what you see I suggest you check it out, its one of the smartest “news shows” we got.

After a typical café or restaurant meal, I am always stifled with a particular uncertainty – what is the appropriate tip? The level of my frustration depends on the venue – sitdowns are an obvious 15-20 percent, coffee shops take change jars, and fast foods are a no go. However, the elaborate bistros and tearooms are always ambiguous. After thinking it over, I have drafted a few personal standards that attempt to qualify tip worthy attendants.

For example, there are eateries in which a behind-the-counter employee takes your order, which is then custom prepared but requires you to go up to get it (Panera mode). This is a no-tip establishment, especially if I have to pick up after myself. There are similar places that have attendants refilling your drink mid-meal or taking away plates afterwards (like D’Amico & Sons). These places deserve a tip – an approximate 15 percent. Most likely the gratuity is divided among staff in some manner, but even if they aren’t quite waiters per se, they ought to have something. Still, I stumble when it comes to cafés with servers – what if I only get a drink? Sadly and unfortunately, the respectful thing would be to tip, but maybe not as much. They are technically waiters.

If a server mixes up/forgets an order, not only do I tip less, but put on an unimpressed face as well. This way he/she feels bad and hopes to compensate for it with an on the house offer. My roommate once got a free drinks and a meal because her appetizer basket of chips caught on fire. There is always an upside to a restaurant mishap.

On another note, what if the food was excellent but the service was horrible? Or vice versa? This has troubled me for quite some time, and honestly, I still have no idea. I would hate to undermine a job well done on one end, but don’t want an unskilled worker to receive what they didn’t earn. My measly solution is to send an appreciatory message to the cook, and if the service is terrible, leave change.
Deliveries work geographically and meteorologically. If it comes a long way or in bad Minnesotan weather conditions, a larger sum makes an otherwise crappy trip worth it. Kindness, karma. On the other hand, if the delivery takes a lot longer than normal, I might even demand a discount (unless there is a plausible excuse). Hungry makes angry.

Since money is tight these days, I would encourage tip creativity. Another friend was once very short on cash, but didn’t have it in her heart to leave the table empty, so she rewarded the server with coupons and a gift card. What a pleasant surprise!

As for upscale fine dining, double digits are a minimum. Since most college students don’t splurge on four-star dining, it really doesn’t concern me. Those types of places are filled with pompous middle-aged folk, anyways.

Hey you fun-loving hipsters,

If you’ve ever wanted to go rant at Big Bobby B, he’s going to give you the chance. The University of Minnesota President, Robert Bruininks, is giving the annual State of the University address this Thursday, March 5, at 3 p.m. inside the Coffman Union Theater. Just do us a favor and don’t throw shoes at him if you’re angry about how expensive tuition is getting. After all, it’s not his fault the economy tanked.

So as you can see, I haven’t entered anything in a while due to some technical difficulty that reached its peak a couple of weeks ago. Like many of you, I am a mac user. I purchased my 13 inch Macbook after graduating high school and it wasn’t long till I started experiencing some problems. About 4 months into the school year my screen stopped working…. completely. Fortunately, i still had the benefits of the apple care support plan, so I reported the problem and had my laptop shipped back fully repaired and free of charge within a week.

So this is where it gets frustrating. I began noticing the rapid weakening of my battery life and after a while it wasn’t able to stay on for more than an hour or so. Strangely, as my battery life decreased the size of the battery itself began to grow larger and larger. A few months later I woke up one day to realize that my mouse pad was unresponsive. Hoping that my service plan could cover the repairs I made my way to the Apple Store and told them about my dilemma.

Now most companies who desire a healthy relationship with their customers notify you about things like this but the corporate heads over at Apple are wise enough to see the benefits. They told me my apple care plan had expired about a month ago and the repair would cost me a near $600. Unable to afford these charges, I purchased a wireless mouse and went through the following year with an almost unusable laptop.

As I was leaving for a class a few weeks ago, I managed to spill some coffee all over my keyboard rendering the right side completely unusable. Seeing that this was due to my own clumsiness I made my way back to the Apple store ready to empty my wallet. To my surprise, I didn’t have to pay a dime. Apparently, Apple had produced some defected hardware that included my enlarged battery and deteriorating keyboard and I was lucky enough to, once again, leave with a fully repaired computer

Could it be that apple is finally displaying some accountability to boost consumer satisfaction amidst all this economic turmoil? I certainly hope so, because my ipod keeps freezing on me….

Anyway, now that I’ve got my computer back and caught up with things, I can finally get back to the blogging…. hooray for random occurrences of corporate accountability!

It was a trend that kept popping up in conversation; podcasts that had the power to make you do things. It was more than persuasion, it was hypnotism. At first she brushed it off as another fad that preyed on the simpletons, like dieting pills and shamWOW. She resisted it when people told her of the merits. One person claimed his looserness was cured; he was getting booty left and right, any time of the day. But Marnie wouldn’t buy it, she couldn’t buy it. If Susie found out about this, then there was nothing to stop her from trying it; and it was Marnie’s mission to keep her friend out of such absurd shams.

That was until Julia, Marnie’s older and much admired friend, spoke several very harrowing words.

“I’m going to have a baby.”

Marnie launched forward as she choked on her Coke. A pretty spray of soda and spit arched across the table and prismed a rainbow in the air above them.

“Excuse me?” she said between coughs.

Julia, in all her unforgiving and immaculate glory, nodded. “I’m going to have a baby,” she repeated. Marnie shook her head.

“When did this happen? You don’t even have a boyfriend!”

“Thank you,” Julia said as a scowl passed her pretty pink lips.

“But,” Marnie began. She thought back through time, of all the men she had seen Julia with. The number was small, no more than five. In fact, that last time Julia was in a serious relationship, Marnie was just a freshman, a few years ago. Unless Julia was sleeping around, which Marnie couldn’t see, then this woman was incubating the messiah.

“Do you have a secret lover, or something?” she said.

Julia shook her head. “Please, I have no time for that crap.”

“Then how did you get pregnant?”

“Oh,” Julia said as she waved a hand across the table. “I’m not pregnant, not yet. I was just thinking that it’s about time I have a baby.”

“You were ‘just thinking’?”

“So?”

“Babies are not something you ‘just think’ about.”

“Well, it’s not wholly unheard of. I’m secure in my job, I can support myself and another. Unlike you and you prissy Alzheimer friend, I am mentally stable. I don’t see why I shouldn’t.”

“What about the other half? You know, the man, you don’t have one. That part is important. …Sperm bank?”

“Oh,” she said and waved her hand again. “Please, as if I would go to one of those places. No, I’m going to enjoy getting pregnant, a lot.” She leaned across the table, closing the gap between them. “I hear that if you come together, it increases your chances for a boy.”

“Really?” Marnie said, becoming interested. Julia nodded.

They both took a deep swing from their cans of Coke. Being the ‘successful’ modern day woman that she was, Julia had always held out on things like relationships and marriage and babies. In any beginning to what could be a romance (not that Julia would ever use, let alone think of the word), she would always find something that was the deal breaker, and not in his favor, whoever he happened to be at the time. Julia wasn’t patient. She thought a million miles a minute and didn’t wait for you to catch up. So the thought of her getting sperminated was something extraordinary to Marnie.

“What brought this on?” she asked.

Julia put her hands up, palms exposed, ready to tell a story. “It’s this podcast I listened to a few weeks ago.”

Marnie screamed as inaudibly as the inner workings of her mind would let her.

“It was something about life plans and beating back the conventional idea of houses with white picket fences and fractured children.”

“Fractured children?”

“You know, a nice house with a white picket fence and 2 ½ children? Why is it a fraction?”

Marnie nodded.

“Anyway,” Julia continued, “I was listening to it, listening to it, when it just stopped. I mean the clip was over. I looked at my watch and saw that thirty minutes had passed. At first I was really pissed. I mean, I just wasted a good unit of time listening to nothing, I didn’t remember anything. Then a day later, I saw a fat soccer mom bouncing a baby on her tire rolls, and I thought, I want that.”

“Lard?”

“No, a baby. Though, I didn’t see how she could have such an adorable baby, but that’s beside the point.”

Marnie shook her head. “Wait, wait. Did you just say ‘adorable baby’? What happened to ‘shitting vomit machine’?”

Julia shrugged her shoulders after finishing her Coke. She gave a cute little smile and sighed with content in her voice. This was very out of sorts. Julia was never content, she was always going for more, going for the next step. She never slowed down.

It was the podcast.

A podcast that could change such a radical person as Julia was something far beyond the reaches of reality, or Marnie’s reality at least. The other people that had told her about this mysterious podcast were people she didn’t know very well. But Julia, she was like the older cousin that corrupted you for the better, someone indispensible to Marnie. So she checked it out.

At home she sat at the dining room table with a laptop in front of her. Logging on to the interweb, she found out that it wasn’t one podcast, there were hundreds, for all different types of situations and states of mind. Men, women, pets, careers, silicone implants, and Snow Monkeys. There was something for everyone.

She scrolled through the choices, wondering which one to select for herself. Was it destiny when her cursor immediately fell on one titled Bringing Out Your Inner Voice. Clicking on it she was presented with a media player. The soothing voice of a man began to fill the room just before Marnie pressed pause.

She slouched down in her seat. How did one arrange for one’s mind to be hijacked and changed? She went around the house, closing the blinds, switching off electronics and anything else that made noise. The doors were locked, the windows latched and despite the growing stuffiness and heat, she sat back down and listened to the silence. Everything was dead, save for the quiet hum of the refrigerator. She was hankering for some ice cream after this didn’t work.

Dragging her finger across the laptop touchie pad, she pressed play.

The male voice came through again and she felt her shoulders slouch and the crook in her neck loosen. She was still quite lucid, though on the edge of her seat, waiting for the moment she would lose control. It was all very much like a séance, when you’re expecting something to happen, afraid of anything that could happen, yet you still wait with baited breath.

She closed her eyes…then her phone rang.

“Shit,” she muttered as she pressed pause again. Glancing at the phone, she saw it was Susie.

“What,” she barked into the mouthpiece.

“You said you wanted to meet the waptard, so come on,” Susie said.

“I can’t, I’m trying to hypnotize myself.”

“Hypnotize yourself? Worst excuse ever! I’ve got the wap all riled up and ready to go.”

“Sorry, I can’t.”

“Bitch! You’re the one who wanted to meet her!”

“Sorry, I can’t”

“You can’t? You can’t leave me here with her!”

“Where are you?”

“At a coffee shop somewhere on Nicollet. Marnie, you fucking flake, she’s speaking in tounges!”

Marnie almost laughed.

“Sorry girle, this is some important stuff. I’ll call you later.”

She didn’t wait to hear another insult laced with curses, she had to get back to business.

Pressing play again, listening to the voice again, she again closed her eyes and listened to the silence around her, and to the podcast. She waited and waited, wondering when it was going to take its affect, and if it was different for everyone. She considered calling Julia to ask about how to get in the mindset, or so to say, when her phone rang again.

“Shit,” she said and picked it up.

“You fucking bitch. That was the most torturous hour of my life. You couldn’t come out to see what you wanted to experience in the first place? I’m tired of you backing out on me when I do these kinds things for you. I’m always arranging things and then you decide on a whim if you want to follow through or not. I’m tired of it. Are you listening?”

Marnie pulled the phone away from her ear, feeling lethargic and heavy all of the sudden. Looking at the screen she saw that an hour had passed. Susie was still yelling on the other end and Marnie was just noticing that the podcast had ended. When, she didn’t know, but the audio clip was only about fifteen minutes long. Total.

Frowning to herself she brought the phone closer to her face and examined the time blaring across the screen.

It was truly an hour later. She had just wasted an hour of her life listening to nothing.

What a way to piss a person off.

She knew this was a sham.

She stood up and went to get some ice cream.