STD 15

eZine lover (@eZine)

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 · 26 Apr 2019

  

Writing - It's a Disease - Writing - It's a Disease - Writing - It's a Disease 
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Writing - It's a Disease - Writing - It's a Disease - Writing - It's a Disease 
  
    Physics. I know it's a really thrilling subject, at least most of the 
time, okay none of the time, but at least it's a subject, right? And it  
subjects us toquite intense agony, because we have to sit there and listen  
to some old fat guy preach about laws of the universe. I barely know the laws  
of my own NATION, how is it that I'm expected to learn the laws of the  
universe as well?? This story, however, is not about the laws of the  
universe.  It's about the old fat guy that preaches about these exciting 
laws. 
     His name is Mr. Baier, but everyone calls him Baier. In a particularly 
bored moment, someone in the class once asked him if his wife called him  
Baier. He then related a story about how at a school he used to teach at, the  
students called him the Squirrel, because of the way he would nervously run  
from one place to another, sit down and hold his hands up in front of his  
face like he was cracking his nuts. Yes, that's what he said: like he was  
cracking his nuts. He didn't specify which kind of nuts, exactly, and we  
thought it best not to ask.  
     Mr. Baier has been teaching physics for 30 years or so. He once told us  
that when he took high school physics, his physics teacher told him at the  
end of the year to "major in ANYthing but physics." Baier was not daunted,  
however, and promptly went to some exciting university and majored in -  
guess what? Yes! You win!  Physics.                            
      
     And now for a word from our sponsor: 

     Let's get physics-al! Physics-al! Let's get physics-al! Physics-al! 

     Thanks for that lovely word from our sponsor.  

     In class a few months ago, we were discussing gases and some kind of 
equilibrium shit between them. Who knows. But we had this nice huge tank of 
helium that sat tantalizingly in the corner, begging us to use it. So we, of 
course, whined at Baier and he let some of us eager students try out the  
helium, blow up some brain cells and sound funny in the process. But then  
Baier walked over to the tank and proceeded to take in the Big Gulp of  
Helium-Sucking. He stood in front of the class and asked us if we'd like to  
hear him sing some dirty cowboy songs. Of course we agreed. So he promptly  
belted out 'DIRTY COWBOOOOOOOOOOOOY SONGS!'  
     When we studied rocket propulsion, we did some experiments with some - 
oh yes, some rockets. Wild, eh? These were red rockets. About 18 inches long.  
A few inches circumference. With a pointy tip and ridges at one end, and a  
thick base at the other end. Oh yes, they were phallic. Baier stood up in  
front of the class, holding this..rocket.. in one hand and demonstrated how  
to do the experiment. "You see," he said, "you must hold it down at the base  
here," (he put his hand around the base) "and balance it here," (he put the  
rocket down on the grass) "and make sure the cap is securely on top," (he  
screwed the pointy cap of the rocket on top) "and plug up the cap to build  
up pressure" (he put a piece of plastic about the size of a pea into the  
hole in the top of the cap." Of course, we were all giggling quietly at this, 
because we were thinking to ourselves that this man didn't realize that he  
looked like he was..well, anyway. So then Baier starts rubbing the "shaft"  
of the rocket (As he called it).. Rub, rub, up and down, rub rub.. He pumped  
air into it from the back, let go and the rocket shot up into the air. He t 
hen turned around and deadpanned "If only we all could get off that far."  
    So if you're ever feeling down in the dumps, stroke a rocket and sing 
dirty cowboy songs, and you'll be sure to crack your nuts better from then  
on. At least, that's what i've learned in that class. 
     
     
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