Gwenyth Paltrow and Molly Ringwald could not attend the recent OJ section event in Aldrich 10 mainly because they were not invited and we have a strict door policy. To us the real stars of the show were the representatives of the Umgogo tribe who were here recruiting for tribal elders.
Dan Tennebaum performed HBS origami on the “How to buy your first diamond” flyer and the little American Flag which he had stuck on his class card since late September, and from these he made an entire indigenous family unit complete with plough, two oxen, rice seeds, a bore well, and six children. Kevin Luke delicately cut silver ribbon to demonstrate several subtle ways of conducting orphanage opening ceremonies without soiling the cuff as per the Goldman Sachs “Community Values & Other Employee Liabilities” handbook. The Umgogo party were certainly impressed by OJs collective skills.
Usually at this point in our reunions, OJs festivities are interrupted by some sort of externality – a sudden sound, the unexpected arrival of a circus, or the unscheduled opening of a new dam – and the OJ story typically digresses into an unrelated arena. In anticipation of this, Brooks Blake called for silence to await the imminent.
OJ heeded his call and grew silent. Suddenly there was a blinding flash of light and the entire Umgogo party started wailing in what we thought was a traditional second round interview invitation. But then our potential recruiters simply vanished in a puff of blue smoke, our last hope of a decent tribal elder job going with them.
“Typical tribes eh,” said Jessie Selnick. “They just take, take, take, take, take, and then leave.”
“…behind a humidifier!” said Henry Patner pointing to the object which had appeared on the floor.
OJ stopped in its tracks. DY Lin approached the humidifier with caution. But she felt something on her leg and looked down to see one of the children from the indigenous ethnic family unit tugging at her skirt trying to sell her some generic HIV therapies at a small margin.
“Be off, you patent infringers”, said DY, returning her attention to the humidifier.
“There is some writing on it. Oh my God, I think its Elvish!” she exclaimed with surprise.
Dana Soiman came forward to translate the inscription.
“It says… one hundred and twenty volts, sixty Hertz…”
“Not that,” interrupted Richard Moore, “read this…,” he said pointing to the Elvish inscription.
OJ grew nervous.
“It says… one humidifier to bind them all, one humidifier to rule them…”
OJ fell very silent.
“We have to take this humidifier and return it to where it was molded – only then can we destroy it forever and finally rid this world of the darkness that threatens to engulf us.” suggested Kate Leness.
OJ murmured in approval, nodding our heads, but who would risk themselves to do it ? Matteo Coppola slowly stood up from his chair. The murmuring stopped and OJ looked up at him in awe, his face set against the evening sky, his eyes deep set and focused, his silhouette tall and proud.
“Certainly not me,” he said and sat back down.
The murmuring among OJ continued, stopped only by that unmistakable feeling of water lapping on our ankles.
“Bloody hell,” exclaimed Terry Wolfram looking down at the floor and then re-checking the course platform, “there’s no dam scheduled to open today!”
And soon the waters rose and engulfed everything. And the land which was once home to many a fine capitalistic institution turned into a lake. Mother Nature began her inevitable march and in time the countryside adapted and the water filled with bacteria and fungi and then eventually with fish and other aquatic life forms. New organisms developed from small genetic mutations to occupy unfilled niches in the surrounding land and a whole new ecosystem came into being. And during all this time for a thousand years, the humidifier silently lay, patiently waiting at the bottom of this lake longing for its masters to return, all the while guarded by the ever-present OJ.
