Why Me?We've all had them, those total-utter-crap days where all you can do is lie down and say over and over again, "Why ME?" "Why am I going through this?" "What the hell did I ever do wrong?" During one of those days, in a moment of heightened delirium, I began to suspect what the real answer to those questions might be. ... It was then that I finally perceived that there was an, hitherto unsuspected, "epic" dimension to my struggle. ...
[Scene: A bleak Monday morning. Our hero is slumped in bed, quietly moaning and grumbling to himself as he psyches up to face the stark horror that is the average work week on a university campus.]
Jason: ... eeerrrrrrrgghhhhhh ... I feel 'orrible. No I don't, I feel 'ORRIBLE ... eeerrrrggghhhhh...
[Meanwhile, on Mt. Olympus, two toga encrusted dudes lounge beside a limpid pool.]
Deity A: 'Struth I'm BORED! It's so fucking BORING up 'ere! We don't even get cable!
Deity B: Tell yer what, why don' we mess about with some mortals? That poor helpless schmuck you were toying with the other epoch should be softened up enough for a few fun and games by now.
[Back on Terra Firma]
Jason: ... eeeeeerrrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhh ...
[Try as he may, out hero cannot drift back to sleep, his slumbers being disturbed by a persistent and annoying "clip-clop" sound in his bedroom. With his last dying energies he pries open one bloodshot eye and rolls it around the room.]
Jason: ... Bugger ... there's a bloody centaur in 'ere.
Chiron: AWAKE! AWAKE MASTER JASON!! I HAVE BEEN SENT BY THE GODS OF MT. OLYMPUS TO BEAR TIDINGS OF GREAT OMEN AND PORTENT!!!
Jason: ... shuddup ... piss off ... I'm not buying any today ... mmmphh ... eerrgh.
Chiron: THOU HAST AROUSED THE ANGER OF THE GODS! THY TRANSGRESSIONS IN THE WORLD OF MEN HAVE ALREADY BROUGHT DOWN UPON THEE THE DAMNATION OF HAVING THY STRENGTHS AND VITAL ENERGIES SAPPED. ... NOW I BRING TIDINGS OF THE GREAT QUEST WHICH THOU MUST FULFILL IF THOU ART TO EVER REGAIN THY MANLY VIGOUR AND CLAIM THY RIGHTFUL PLACE ON THE THRONE OF THEBES.
Jason: ... look ... why don't you go an' pick on someone else ... I'm busy dying here. What did I ever do to get the gods in a major snit anyway?
::Roll of Thunder::
Chiron: Thine unbridled lusts have drawn the angry gaze of Zeus upon thee!
Jason: What "unbridled lusts"?!?
Chiron: For those expensive "upmarket" ice creams! The ones with the extra creamy centres! For hard disks whose capacities are tabulated in Gigabytes! For video cassette compilations of obscure episodes of "Mod Squad!"
Jason: OK ... OK ... so I've got a few unbridled lusts ... what am I supposed to do about it?
Chiron: To lift the Damnation of Eternal Lassitude, thou must raise up thy weary bones, gather together a crew of the stoutest warriors in the land, construct a ship (19.2 X 3.7 X 6.5 metric cubits) to be named "Argo," and quest to distant lands in search of ...
::Extra-Impressive, Fully Imported, Roll of Thunder::
... The Golden Tenure!
Thou and thy band of stout-hearted heroes shall hew theses, battle cyclopean academics, slay bureaucratic ogres and ravish departmental budgets in your search for a cushy position where thou shalt never have to think again as long as thou shalt live.
FULFILL this quest, and thy Promethean energies SHALL BE RESTORED by gods of Olympus.
[With no other options presenting themselves ... our hero drags his quivering carcass out of bed and across to the wardrobe. He lunges at the doors and pulls them open to reveal that where once had lived a colony of jeans and T-Shirts, the wardrobe was now the exclusive domain of leather jerkins, white miniskirts, and Dr. Scholl sandals.]
Jason: ... ? ... ?? ... !!! ... Bugger. ... It's another four thousand years until they invent underpants. ...
Voice Over: And with that stirring thought ringing in our ears and our hearts, we bid farewell to our brave venturer, ... for now ...
Roll: theme music, credits. Shot of our hero in his jerkin and miniskirt trundling off into the sunset in his wheelchair (avec Ben Hur chariot race rotating knives).