Category Archives: What If?

What if – Love Actually Style

Did you watch the deleted scenes from Love Actually? Do you remember the fart assignment scene?

Well, if the memory has faded, or you’ve never watched the deleted scenes, let me set up the scene for you…

Emma Thompson is sitting across from her son’s principal and teacher, her son sitting next to her. The educator duo express concern over an essay E.T.’s son wrote for a class assignment called “My Christmas Wish.” His wish? That everyone’s farts would be visible for one day. Emma Thompson plays the “Oh my goodness,” mother part, in front of the teacher, but then rales against the injustice of it all when she gets out into the hall with her son.

Frankly, this is the only scene from the movie I remember, because it struck a chord for me.

I also remember Hugh Grant was the prime minister, which is memorable because it’s about as plausible as Mira Sorvino as a scientist. Mimic anyone? Yeah, I wish I didn’t remember Mimic either.

This fart assignment scene reminded me to ask, “What if?” I’d asked it all the time as a kid, but fell out of the habit as I grew older. Even now, it’s not a natural state – but I’m working to make it part of my thinking again. For example, I just asked myself:

  • What if my tea was not decaf?
  • What if the sky was purple?
  • What if I had an invisibility cloak?
  • What if the Patriot Act hadn’t been signed?
  • What if John McCain was hispanic?

The choices are endlessly fascinating.

All good ideas, bad ideas, and comedic ideas start with one simple question – What if…

What’s your What If?

And to inspire you, here’s the video:

Also, isn’t E.T. just the greatest mother ever in this scene?

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What If? … There are Mole People

Have you ever considered the possibility that mole people actually exist?

I have and I’m monumentally disturbed by the idea. I mean, here we are, living topsoil, confident in the fact that our scientists know all. Nothing, they tell us, can live more than a few feet underground, the pressure further down is too much to support life.

When searching Google for “Mole People,” this is what comes up. I’m dubious that this is what mole people look like, but if we start questioning Google, what’s next? Religion?

But then, one day, we discovered the mole people. Science is wrong. Sci-fi is correct.

They would obviously be a superior race of creatures, able to live miles underground. Their bodies honed to withstand massive amounts of pressure. All of our heavy pressure weapons would be completely useless! We would be completely unable to swat them with shoes, clubs, or baseball bats.

But maybe we’re lucky. Maybe they’re peace loving creatures who are excited to share their pressure positive scientific wonders with us. We’d suddenly be able to tunnel miles underground. We could grow crops without the sun. We would suddenly be prepared for that day, 5 million years in the future, when, on his first birthday, God makes a wish and blows out the sun.

I bet He wishes for a hot boyfriend. That’s what I wished for on my first birthday. (Yep, über gay.)

So now the human race has reached the pinnacle of evolution, we will survive the end of the sun, thanks to the mole people.

And so, confident and relaxed, we share our scientific discoveries with them. Gas powered motors, personal lubricants, and coal factories.

And the mole people, astounded by these amazing feats in manufacturing ask where we get these wonderful things. And we excitedly explain the source of coal and petroleum, and wait for their amazed reactions. They’ve lived underground for so long, how could they not notice? We obviously have the upper hand in a few areas.

They’re not so great, we think.

This is what I think mole people should look like. It’s Mole from Wind in the Willows!

But instead of awe, the mole people look uncomfortable. They shuffle their feet slightly and hesitantly explain that these pockets of oil and coal, that we’ve used to achieve amazing progress, are, in fact, sewage dumps, liquid and solid sewage, respectively.

Think about this the next time a bus rolls by, belching a cloud of black exhaust. Because if I’m right, you just inhaled a mouthful of mole-man poo.

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