A joke

While reading the Sun-Times over lunch, I came across this joke, which usurps the Descartes joke as my new all-time favorite.

A font walks into a bar.

"We don't serve your type," the bartender says. "And if you don't get out I'll call the serif."

Ring? Ring? Ring?

If you're trying to reach me, my phone is dead. At least I can't make outgoing calls. I don't know whether I can receive incoming calls, but considering my phone was on "silent" last I checked, that's probably doubtful, regardless.

It's Roald!

My relationship with my high school boyfriend, Dave, was one of the best of my life. After a year of mutual antagonism and verbal sparring, we realized we were rather attached to each other and dated for three years before college took us in different directions.

Though we haven't been in touch, I have a vague knowledge of what's happened to him through my mom, who still talks to his mom on occasion. Apparently he's married, has dogs and likes to skydive.

I still think of him fondly. He and Chuck Norris* embodied the characteristics I find most charming in men: ready wit, biting sarcasm and an above-average intellect.

Even as a sophomore in high school, Dave knew he wanted to pursue chemistry as a career.

(Though he didn't possess quite the pulchritude of Alan Rickman as Snape, I'm sure my obsession with Hogwarts' potion master springs from a subconscious projection of my first formative relationship onto my experience of fiction.)

Though I was a mediocre student in most areas of science, I did my best to appreciate what Dave saw in the discipline. Though I was a year behind him, we shared much of the same curriculum.

Our high school chemistry teacher, a lovable instructor who likely would have instilled an appreciation of the subject matter in me regardless of my affection for Dave and all he held dear, was rather fond of showing the occasional movie during class.

(Though not to the degree of my anthropology teacher, who felt that "Jurassic Park" was a suitable introduction to the topic of dinosaurs.)

His favorite series of films featured a man we only knew as "Roald." Dave and I found the Roald films funny. I can't remember if the films themselves were funny, or if we were just young and in love and silly.

I can still hear Dave imitating Roald's slightly pinched voice (which was pretty similar to Dave's own slightly pinched voice, though he also did a great Carl Sagan imitation).

So imagine my surprise when, while listening to a preview for NPR's This I Believe, I hear Roald's voice emanating from my stero.

I was immediately transported back to my high school years. It was Roald.

Not only was it Roald, it was Roald Hoffmann, Nobel Laureate, poet and playwright.

I'm glad for this little trip back to my high school days, and resolved to check out some of Hoffmann's poetry.

* Not the real Chuck Norris, if you're new to reading this blog.