A typical post by Acephalous Identity Incorporated is produced by our crack staff after a wildly improbable and profoundly humiliating event has befallen your humble host.
The following will not be a typical post.
As friends of Scott Kaufman already know, even conservative forecasters believe there's a better than 50 percent chance that a perfect storm of hilarious fatality will strike Kaufman down tomorrow. Consider: because he missed four consecutive classes on account of an ornery volcano, Kaufman must trek down to Irvine tomorrow no matter what. However, due to the merger of the cold he acquired in England with an opportunistic sinus infection yesterday, what little air makes it through Kaufman's head is barely being processed by his lungs. The result of this collaborative suffocation is that he is perpetually one stilted inhalation away from blacking out.
If he were to be startled, for example, by his car threatening to stall as it climbs the unholy gradient of the very road where he saw someone die last October, he would pass out and his car would careen off the side of the mountain like stock footage from the Seventies or veer into oncoming traffic and suffer the laws of physics. As he told friends yesterday, Kaufman's car threatened to do precisely that numerous times during the commute home yesterday, meaning that the odds of him dying on the road were already better before his throat and lungs conspired to smother him.
Keeping in mind that the root cause of his inability to cancel class is the eruption of an Icelandic volcano that brought Europe to its knees, the likelihood that Kaufman will meet an absurd end tomorrow is quite high. Factor in that once he was nearly arrested while retrieving cat litter from the trunk of his own car and that his trunk currently contains a giant box of the same which he is too winded to ferry into the apartment and it almost seems like the man is asking for it.
But what is "it"? How will "it" go down? This is where you come in.
Welcome to the First and Last Annual "How Will Kaufman Bite It?" Contest. From now until the inevitable moment of his death tomorrow, we here at Acephalous Identity Incorporated will be taking bets as to how (and with what ferocity) Kaufman bites it. The commenter who best captures the delicious irony of how the universe finally ends SEK will win cash money and needy cats.
So what are you waiting for? Comment boxes are standing by.
Kaufman will make the unfortunate mistake of sharing his exotic head cold and other pink-eye-like issues with his wife, who, in turn, will realize that the time has come to pull out that wonderful specimen of bubonic plague that she has been keeping in a petri dish in the closet.
Posted by: the littlewomedievalist | Wednesday, 28 April 2010 at 09:02 PM
Bored CERN control-room staff are so distracted by this contest that they neglect troubling instrument readings.
Posted by: Colin Danby | Wednesday, 28 April 2010 at 09:29 PM
In an effort to fix the state's severe budget problems, the lawmakers of California criminalize all unpaid library fines. Not only do you (unknowingly, of course) still have thousands of dollars in fees accidentally paid to the wrong university department, but Jonah Goldberg has stolen a copy of your library card and used it to check out thousands of books for his sequel to Liberal Fascism, thereby simultaneously a) proving you wrong about his poor research skills and b) bankrupting you in the process. The police are tipped off about your (now illegal) fines and you are pulled over during your drive to work. You try to explain that you're not a criminal but your inability to breath makes them suspicious. They search your car, discover the cat litter, and assume the worst. You are arrested, and legions of conservative bloggers and trolls assume that they are vindicated. You get out on bail, but are fired from your job. You go to clean out your office only to discover two undergraduates having sex. You try to get them to leave but they correctly inform you that this is no longer your office and you have no authority over them. Frustrated but without recourse, you exit the building but get stuck in the elevator for over 72 hours. Everyone assumes you've jumped bail. You are eventually rescued by Batman, who understands your plight as an outlaw and suggests teaming up with him as a masked vigilante. You accept, but on your way out the building your cold prevents you from running very fast without blacking out. Batman leaves you behind, deeply ashamed of you.
You are then struck by a random vehicle and killed.
Posted by: Tom Elrod | Wednesday, 28 April 2010 at 09:30 PM
While walking near the music building, a piano falls on SEK's head.
Posted by: Bourgeois Nerd | Wednesday, 28 April 2010 at 09:48 PM
Returning, alive, from teaching, SEK settles into his favorite chair, opens his laptop, and logs on to the internet. As always, his first stop is his own blog where he hopes to read humorous stories predicting his own demise. His hopes are more than satisfied, as some of the stories are devilishly clever. SEK begins a comment in response to one of the cleverest stories and, as he revels in its morbid details, begins to laugh. Unfortunately, this is more than his compromised respiratory system can take and within three guffaws SEK is dead. His final comment reads, "I hope that I am a coward so that I cannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn"
Posted by: dr | Wednesday, 28 April 2010 at 10:45 PM
Your old enemy from the war will have you shot at a lecture.
Posted by: James T | Thursday, 29 April 2010 at 12:25 AM
But because he's responsible for ending our universe, the principle of Conservation of Irony requires SEK's survival! In a parallel universe he is reborn as Bryan Caplan's clone-child.
Posted by: Colin Danby | Thursday, 29 April 2010 at 12:35 AM
A perfectly struck cricket ball will intersect Kaufman's cranium with a painless, resonant ploc as he streaks naked across the pitch.
Posted by: Adam Roberts | Thursday, 29 April 2010 at 03:05 AM
Eh, I'm not going to bother trying to come up with something improbable, yet hilarious; pick a Warner Bros. cartoon of your choice for that. What I am interested in is whether you have made arrangements for someone to come in tomorrow and post the gory (hopefully) details of your inevitable demise on here for our entertainment. Preferably with photographs and one of those Rube Goldberg charts showing the various things that happened, with appropriate graphics, and the path you took careening from disaster to tragedy until the final big "splat".
Posted by: JohnR | Thursday, 29 April 2010 at 08:49 AM
The universe would get no pleasure from your death: like Job, you must endure to be interesting. Therefore, you are practically immortal, but not invulnerable; you can be beaten and broken, but not killed. You will die only when you are boring.
Posted by: Ahistoricality | Thursday, 29 April 2010 at 09:07 AM
No one -- no one! -- dares challenge me! Because mine is the strongest kung fu! Er, mine is the strongest mastery of SEK mishap chronicling.
[You can skip down to the [new verses] tag to read only the new material at the end if you like. The last old verse now has the pessimistic ending. Of course!]
[Begin chorus]
They tell of a man from Californiay
Who thought that his diss would be done some day
The Devil looked up, said "I'll make him pay"
So drink one for the troubles of SEK
[end chorus]
Now SEK's list of trials is long
And we'll see who's still standing after this song
He was beat up in high school, he didn't belong
But it was in grad school that things went wrong
[Chorus]
And when his thesis had just begun
He turned against Theory, said that wasn't fun
The New Historicism is the one
He's stuck reading and re-reading Jack London
[Chorus]
The doctor told him about his thyroid
He didn't want his wife to be annoyed
"If I hide it from everyone I'll stay employed"
So four months of concealment he enjoyed
[Chorus]
Now SEK came to his office door
And found two students going at it on the floor
"This will make a good story" he thought before
The Sexual Harassment Office sent letters galore
[Chorus]
And when he was down, and his thoughts were thick
His gloom was interrupted by Honda Civic
The car slammed into him and was gone in a lick
At least six months of rehab went by quick
[Chorus]
But the most annoying were Internet trolls
Threats of bodily harm will take their toll
They sent letters to his boss, and to every soul
They could find in the whole county's Email roll
[Chorus]
He got pictures of the husband of his friend
Having sex with a horde; he thought that was the end
Should he tell her? He went and hit "send"
Now he can't go home, or with thugs he'll contend
[Chorus]
After all those troubles, he still wasn't drowned
Well, it was absurd, but this might be the crown
Overpayment of library fines will bring him down
He's no longer a student, just a proper noun
[Chorus]
He told us all this when he started a blog
And how fate or the Devil made him jump like a frog
The hiring committee looked on agog
If we hire him -- then our luck will fog
[Chorus]
[new verses]
The Devil looked up and laughed and laughed
The diss was done, SEK was on staff
His appointment wasn't tenure track
He'd be lecturing freshman till Hell and back
[Chorus]
The Devil liked what he did see
"I'll make SEK live eternally"
He'll crush people's souls, and turn them to me
Academics will cry as I laugh with glee
[Chorus]
When the Devil's plans caught up the poor sod
That brought the eye of an angry God
Volcanoes and plagues came down in turn
To stop the Devil, SEK must burn
[Chorus]
He looked at his smoldering car in despair
SEK looked up, shook his fist in the air
"I've survived again, and as you can see"
"There's nothing more you can do to me"
[Chorus]
As he raised his arm with a defiant shout
A massive lightning bolt snuffed him out
The electric charge was so whole-hog
A freak power surge erased his blog
[Chorus]
And that was the end of SEK
To his memory we drink today
Lest we get his luck, and get squashed like a bug
The rest of the bottle we now will chug
Posted by: Rich Puchalsky | Thursday, 29 April 2010 at 10:30 AM
Oops, did I really use an AAAA rhyme scheme for those early verses? I'd remembered it as couplets. Oh well.
Posted by: Rich Puchalsky | Thursday, 29 April 2010 at 10:41 AM
Dude. This is totally bad juju, you know that, right? So: death by cliché. Banana peel. Totally. (Hope you feel better soon.)
Posted by: tina | Thursday, 29 April 2010 at 06:03 PM
Maybe you'll choke on some Unicorn meat.
Posted by: Fritz | Thursday, 29 April 2010 at 09:46 PM
While some of these plans gave me a laugh, there is one minor fact that many of you don't know which could some day cause him to die. Since age 5, Scott has been deaf. When he was in college it was so bad he had to get hearing aids that were the first digital. Now Scott had been ahead of the game for so long he thought he really did not need them. So "new" unused aids can be found in his room, by his bed, just incase while asleep he would need them. Now, I could be wrong, but hit by a car! If he heard it he might have been able to prevent the hit. Oh, and when he had a discussion with his wife, while she was upset with him, he could not hear her due to the fact that she was in the bedroom with his hearing aids in there with her. So, Scott will lose he place here on earth for the simple reason of saving the hearing aids safe until he really, really needs them.
Posted by: alkau | Friday, 30 April 2010 at 06:00 PM