“Pie are Square”!?
(a profound statement on sensibilities)
There just happens to be a mathematical
formula for calculating the area of a circle.
That magic equation is:
;
that is, Area equals 3.14159 times the Radius squared.
So, the area of a 10 foot radius circle (a
20 foot diameter) is: 3.1416 x 10(10) or 3.1416 times 100 or 314.159 sq. ft. A
useful tool for engineers, draftsmen, construction or concrete workers.
Heard in the imprecise un-embellished
hayseed colloquial dialect, thus, when spoken as “Pie are square”, the meaning
can be, and is, easily distorted, to say the very laughable, at least.
Self-appointed, self-diluted impotent importance
is barely just become sophisticated idiocy!
Take us now, then, to the most
sophisticated of the erudite elite at a command performance of Engineering School
symposium of any prestigious university. Present, in demanded appearance
attendance are the prestigious coiffured Dean holding court in the precise
center of the ornate ball room directly under the crystal chandelier dancing gentle
teasing caresses in enviable sparkles of pointed illumination over, around and down
the nearly fully exposed jiggling ample alabaster soft voluptuous endowments of
his majesty’s number one assistant, business confidant and extracurricular very
private, personal playmate, Miss Sheryl Anne “Delightfully-luscious”, his
Honor’s pet, and secretly whispered, honey-name for her, du Montaigme.
In tow for the charade, though about as
prominent as the bland baseboard in the hall, her latest adornment in a long line
of seven, and counting, husbands, one Reginald, the Meagerest and Meaningless. Even
the astute “Lady” du Montaigne might be hard pressed to remember each of the discarded
spouse’s names without focused concentration and some prompting with hints of
dates, and world renowned venues; perhaps a simple alphabet list, a, b, c might
have better served the socialite. But, then, in fairness, after twenty-six
dramatic failures statistically exhausting the alphabet,, then what? “A-A”,
“B-B”? A wiser chance, perhaps: A-2, B-2? After all, Mon Amie, numbers
determine to infinity, and, too, so might the “Queen”..
Miss Sheryl’s real name and ancestry
seemed as inconsequential as the varied degrees attached to the members of the
dubious conclave’s assemblage. Yet, the “lady” proudly holds haughty doctorate
designations in Quantum Physics, Nuclear Chemistry and the Humanities with a
specialty in ancient Egyptian dynasty-studies. Riding heard over several
advanced Graduate School subject offerings, the open-minded avowed leftist allows
no favoritism to ever dare challenge her cultured and perceived all-inclusive
practiced tolerance spectrum; the classes quickly fill with wanton desirous
lustful male students intent on exacting every ounce of pleasure from their
studious endeavors, an equal number of those of the female persuasion to
fulfill fairness desires and a smattering of enamored femmes and dykes
interested in getting even with chauvinist pigs while clutching close to
demurely attractive specimens and furthering their personal and educational
agenda. Boys will be boys! And, girls? Girls and dykes will do---well…boys or
girls, or, both! Simultaneously! S’il vous plait? Mon Amour!
Unable to lay claim to any protocol semblance
of acceptable social upper class resume enhancements, “Delightfully-luscious”
holds class as Professor of Advanced Studies in addition to performing the
demanding duties of assistant to the Dean, in itself, a full time, day and
night, coquettish endeavor. An Iconoclast? Perhaps! Perverted!
Ah! One simply must endure! After all!
Percepted masquerade is everything! C’est la vie!...
No comments:
Post a Comment