February 01, 2006

Be a dear and have the steward smash them all with his head, would you?

This always happens to me. Whenever I have to spend a significant length of time beneath the alien lighting found in most offices, I get the big brain-fade.

It's the damnable phosphorescent spectrum, y'see, so artificial, so lacking in healthy greens and reds.

That's all well and good if you're from some trashy planet with an electroluminescent atmosphere full of vaporous mercury and argon, but quality organisms such as myself simply do not do well under such illumination, suffering from unfocused vision, a general thickness in the head, and a near-total loss of super powers.

Caffeinated beverages such as coffee and this fine Lime Diet Coke right here offer some assistance, but only delay the inevitable return of the mental cloud, which usually lands with a soft thump on my skull as I'm barrelling down the Parkway at 80 miles an hour listening to a miniature Lionel Rogg belt out Bach on the tiny pipe organ that's hidden inside my iPod.

If all offices, corporate and governmental alike, were required to pipe in natural light, I think we would achieve world peace and universal prosperity within a generation.

Trying to do business or rule the world while under the influence of the irregular, broken spectrum put out by these blue tubes of hot-ballasted death inevitably leads to thoughts of petty politics and genocide.