Collegiate Times

HE SAID:

Would you rather be haunted by the spirit of Billy Mays or by the spirit of Michael Jackson?

I’d have to suggest that Michael Jackson was essentially a ghost since 1987 when his complexion became a steadily fading gradient. He pretty much haunted pop culture with his mask and baby-dangling antics. I’m not knocking his tunes, though. I’ve previously admitted the movie “Free Willy” brought me to tears, and Jackson’s song “Will You Be There” on the soundtrack contributed.

But if I had to have a translucent houseguest, Mays gets the invite. While Jackson would just wander my halls like a frail doe, at least Mays would engage me with (abrasive) chitchat. And I could be an absolute slob since he’d have all the infomercial cleaning solutions. Plus he could coach me toward a flawless beard. It’s no-shave November, after all.

Would you rather have your own theme song that played anytime you entered a room or have your life be broadcast as a television show?

I’m sitting under dim light watching the World Series while typing on a Dell whose internal fan is too loud — no one would tune in to my show. And that’s precisely why I’d choose television. If someone happened to find a facet of my life intriguing, it would be up to him or her to pick my channel. (Maybe my failed bar flirtations would offer some humor.) I think I’d lose friends and never gain new ones if they had to suffer an unwelcome tune each time I switched venues. I do think the song would be awesome, though, but I’d save it and others (Michael Jackson) for the network soundtrack.

Would you rather be abducted by aliens or have a close encounter with Bigfoot?

I love the Radiohead song “Subterranean Homesick Alien,” which glorifies traveling with space dudes. But I suspect extraterrestrial folk don’t offer their saucers for galactic joyrides. Rather, they have walls of polished tools with which they want to twirl my insides like spaghetti. And there’s no way you can evade them; aliens can turn your body into flying particles at will with a light beam. Assuming both potential encounters are in a darkened forest, Bigfoot actually has mobility limitations. The hairy beast would clip his massive shoulders on trees as I darted through them like a cheetah, screaming in Mariah Carey octaves.

Would you rather streak across the Drillfield during a class change or up an entire set of Lane Stadium stairs during a game?

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