Professor Colbert
I had a dream last night that Stephen Colbert was a Professor
(American Studies, maybe) at Villa Maria College, a small Catholic
college in Buffalo. For some reason, Professor Colbert invited me to
give a guest lecture on Frank Lloyd Wright.
I arrived at the lecture hall, which was buzzing with eager students; clearly, Colbert had a cult-like following, as one might expect. He greeted me and handed me a couple of dusty slide carousels…but I told him that my presentation was all-digital. To my chagrin, when I went to queue up my PowerPoint show, the file was nowhere to be found. All I could do was apologize, but Colbert was gracious, and invited me back for the next class meeting to give my lecture once the file had been found. He filled the unexpected gap in the class by showing an old movie.
Later, I stopped by Colbert’s place for an unknown reason (to apologize?). It turned out to be by Father-in-Law’s house in Jamestown, NY. I found Professor Colbert asleep on the couch, with an old Western on the TV and an empty bag of potato chips abandoned on his chest. I pulled an afghan over him and slunk out.
Weird, poignant, and laced with the requisite amount of free-floating anxiety.
I arrived at the lecture hall, which was buzzing with eager students; clearly, Colbert had a cult-like following, as one might expect. He greeted me and handed me a couple of dusty slide carousels…but I told him that my presentation was all-digital. To my chagrin, when I went to queue up my PowerPoint show, the file was nowhere to be found. All I could do was apologize, but Colbert was gracious, and invited me back for the next class meeting to give my lecture once the file had been found. He filled the unexpected gap in the class by showing an old movie.
Later, I stopped by Colbert’s place for an unknown reason (to apologize?). It turned out to be by Father-in-Law’s house in Jamestown, NY. I found Professor Colbert asleep on the couch, with an old Western on the TV and an empty bag of potato chips abandoned on his chest. I pulled an afghan over him and slunk out.
Weird, poignant, and laced with the requisite amount of free-floating anxiety.
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