More than anything else in the world, I hate when people ask me to do them favors.
I really enjoy doing favors, but the request is what really gets me. Everybody always asks, “Hey Joker, can you do me a HUGE favor?” Well, yea I might, depending on what it is. If you need me to go to Morocco and put up your bail, I’m probably not your guy. On the other hand, if it’ll just take 20 minutes, I’d be happy to, because that just happens to be my favorite increment of time.
You see, I was a child of the ‘60s, so I grew up doing some interesting things. Because I had to listen to music when I did everything as a kid, I still do everything in 20-minute intervals. If it takes less than 20 minutes, I don’t bother. This does have its upsides: I’ve had such great success with lady friends that they named a bar in Brightleaf after me. You’ll be astounded at how satisfying a night with me can be.
In case you Gen Y kids didn’t know, there used to be these things called “records,” and each side of an LP took about 20 minutes to play. I always listened to records when I did anything around the house. If it was a 10 minute task, I’d be stuck in an awkward position somewhere in the middle of the album, which just couldn’t stand.
That quizzical look on your face seems to be demanding an explanation for such silly antics. “Surely he can’t be serious, his teeth must look horrendous.” On the contrary, Mr. SpongeBob SkepticalPants, my teeth are spotless, resulting from 40 minutes of careful brushing every day. When I go to the dentist, she asks me for tips on improved hygienic affairs.
As far as things go being on campus, my little habit highlights the convenience of some things, but it makes others even more inconvenient. Let’s take dining for example. Provided there’s no one else in line, 20 minutes is the exact amount of time it takes to get a sandwich from Subway. My order’s not even complicated: just ham, cheese and bread.
On that same note, it takes 20 minutes for the credit/debit card readers in the Great Hall to process a purchase. If these lines worked quicker, I’d be awkwardly standing around looking like the quick orderer in a group of friends who just doesn’t know what to do next.
Furthermore, this habit pretty much necessitates that I bring a book to the bathroom, or else I’d die of boredom. On the other hand, certain activities are tailor-made for a 20-minute regimen. Like showers, you environmentalists may object, but my showers feel lengthy and great. Plus, I’ve never been one to care for the environment. I actually go out of my way to disrupt wildlife: I dig around trashcans and collect those little plastic six-pack of soda holders. Every time I go to the beach I make sure they find a great home lovingly hugging seagulls, turtles and fish.
I’m just glad I’m not a student here because none of the classes fit my agenda. I’d have to leave each class 10 to 15 minutes early, because you know I wouldn’t stay in those boring classrooms beyond the allotted time, and I obviously can’t learn for 50 minutes at a time. On the other hand, the bus schedule on the weekends is beautifully hand-crafted to cater to those of us with 20-minute affinities.
The best part of this whole thing is that the Joker is taking the week off to contribute to the anti-environmentalism cause. He’s busy cutting down rainforest in Colombia to make room for coca plants. He asked me to write this column for him as a favor. And it only took me 20 minutes.
The Joker has the power to reason away what seems to be. This column runs as today as an online exclusive.
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