It is generally accepted in the literature on the subject that putting toothpaste in a tube was the greatest revelation ever in oral hygiene, and therefore mankind. For all of Edison's genius, he could never put his (relatively useless) "light bulb" into a tube. It took almost 200 years for the railroad to be put into the Chunnel (that's French for tube). All of these facts make it clear that tubes are good; without them inventions like artificial light and mechanized transportation are nothing but freakish science that states like Iowa don't allow children to learn because they would rather their children live in a na?ve hole in the ground?that is, until the age of five when they die of polio, a disease that clearly could have been avoided had their parents dropped out of the prayer circle long enough to take them to the doctor.
Tubes are swell but they can't fix everything. Like my mother always says, "if it ain't broke don't fix it; if it broke don't put it in a tube and think it ain't broke." This brings me to the main subject of this week's article: tube tops.
Over the years I have claimed to be an expert?if not the expert?on many subjects of which I am almost completely ignorant. Noteworthy subject examples include St. Valentine, Thorne Dining Hall, IcyHot, and the international pudding conspiracy spearheaded by the former Orient love columnist who penned "Sex and the Bubble." I feel that such reckless abandon for "reality" has caused a noteworthy side effect: people no longer trust me. Like a shepherd crying wolf, I fear that now, when I actually am to discuss a subject of which I am the single authoritative expert, no one will trust that my word must be taken as absolute and unbending. Alas, I will continue on in my efforts to inform the uninformed of that which I am informed.
Ninety-two percent of all tube tops are mistakes. This number is known to a greater precision than any of you humanities majors could understand. I'd like to discuss just how this number comes about in a more quantitative manner. Unfortunately, that discussion cannot be published because it is apparently too graphic and appropriate for younger audiences. So, you will just have to trust the exactness of my numbers.
First, we need to define our terms. A tube top is a little piece of stretchy fabric that is worn when one wants to go out for an evening and not come back until sometime the next afternoon. It is, like the name suggests, slutty?err, I mean, shaped like a tube.
Look around the room you're in right now and pick out ten people. By the numbers, nine of them look bad in a tube top. Of the remaining person, only eighty percent of him or her looks good in a tube top. Quite in general, most tube tops would look better if there were twenty percent less in them. Before those of you watching your weight get irate and throw your salad at me, let me just remind you that I'm simply going by the numbers. Personally, I like people like I like my milkshakes: thick. I also like sprinkles.
Really, the only reason I want to discuss tube tops is in relation to the upcoming spring soiree, e.g. the Gala. Ninety-two percent folks? don't forget it. Do you really think you're in that eight percent? The answer is almost certainly no...unless your name is Alison Flint. Alison (class of '05, blond, 5' 6'' and cute as a button) is the eight percent, if you know what I mean. Saturday Alison will be featuring a stylish strapless dress of white with a vibrant blue and green floral pattern. Check it out. Like toothpaste, put Alison in a tube and she is downright refreshing.
This concludes my denouncement of ninety-two percent of my audience as well as the public embarrassment of Alison Flint