Watch out. The BBC has invaded America, and it's NOT going away!!! No, I'm not talking about The British Broadcasting Corporation, though those CNN broadcasts of BBC Parliament featuring Tony Blair and his cute little Labor cronies certainly do seem poised to become the next "West Wing."
No, the BBC I speak of has never previously been exposed. If you thought anthrax was scary, wait 'til you hear about this. Last semester, I warned you about the perils of the Perpetually Single Disorder (PSD). Now, it's time for Part II in my semester–regular series on "Diseases you didn't really know about but most likely have," this disease being the BBC, or Busy Body Complex.
What's BBC, you ask? It's a strictly American disease whose full Latin name is known to scientists as Busibodious Obnoxiousmonious Complexidus.
Persons afflicted with the Busy Body Complex are best distinguished by their self-important comments and flustered expressions. BBCs demonstrate a persistent need to pretend that they REALLY don't have time to talk to you and that they REALLY need to be someplace less hopelessly wasteful than your hula hoop of personal space. To the BBC carrier, the entire world is just one big detractor from their Palm Pilot task list. Every activity involving leisurely or social contact is a concession and sacrifice to the outside world.
Due to the rampant outbreak of BBCs everywhere, scientists understand that such behavioral characteristics may be hard to identify and treat. Thus, the American Medical Initiative to Eliminate Annoying Behaviors (AMIEB) has issued the following classic case study to help:
You see, the worst perpetrators of BBC are those involved in relations of the romantic persuasion. Scientists warn to avoid these BBCs at all cost, regardless of how cute their dimples may be. For these BBCs insist on waiting five days after extraction of digits from the opposite sex. This is, of course, because these BBCs are running background checks on you to make sure you are safe to talk to on the phone. These poor chaps do not realize that the Brady Bill five-day waiting period is for guns, not girls. After you have received security clearance and are eligible to receive the coveted phone call, it is time for the BBC to pose an offer. But beware: The ability of a BBC to meet you for dinner and drinks will be trumpeted as a grand scheduling miracle. The BBC needs you to feel as though you have just succeeded in getting a hot date with the Pope himself. Witness the following:
The Non-Busy Body brain reality:
"Friday night? Well, after doing my laundry, I want to finish my Harry Potter book. Then I was going to lay on the couch watching 'Who's the Boss?' reruns over a beer or two. Afterwards, I was going to surf the Britney Spears/Christina Aguilera 4-EVA Supa Dupa Fan Site. But, I need to call my mom sometime tonight, too, because she's supposed to assist me with my science project."
This is a brain on BBC-crafted conversation:
"Friday night? Hmm ... Well, I have some investigating I have to do with regards to the situation in my room and the organizational state of my threaded goods. Then I have 500 pages to read for my Mythological Meaning in Modern Society class, followed by a few drinks with my good friend Tony, and some Internet research on social conformity. Let me get back to you after I talk to my personal assistant, and I'll have your people call my people and maybe I can squeeze in some face time with you."
If you have been in such a situation, please immediately refer to such "self-help" books as "The Rules for More Warning Signs That You might Be Dating a BBC." And run. Fast.
I hope this example has been enlightening, because we, as Americans, need to end this crisis. Now, I know that some people really do have a lot on their plate. But I am tired of the American notion that we have to make ourselves look insanely busy to the rest of the world so that we can seem important. They're running around bragging about how "bogged down" they are with globally important activities, when most of us just have a midterm we need to cram for or a job to do. Why do we need to turn something like the number of hours of sleep we get a night into a grown-up pissing contest? I'm always hearing BBCs brag to each other:
"Oh yeah, well I only got TWO hours of sleep last night!" or "I don't even know what sleep is!" or "Sleep! Ha! I pity the fool who is week enough to succumb to such pathetic indulgences! Clearly, their life is meaningless!"
Let me be the first to say it:
I try to get at least eight hours of sleep a night, thank you. And I am a firm believer in catnaps and allocating enough time in each day to escape to a front porch rocker, Mint Julep and lacy fan. (And if you don't live on the set of "Gone With the Wind", then plastic lawn furniture, cold beer and a baseball cap certainly will do.)
Please, I urge you to try to make similar efforts, because friends don't let friends flaunt their BBCs.
And I'm sorry, but this column has to end now. I'd love to stay and indulge you readers with more trivialities, but I'm really much too busy.
Kathleen Heil is a religious studies sophomore. Reach her at diekadie@hotmail.com.
