Hubs of intellectualism account for social stimuli that are seemingly endless. The delegates, ambassadors. Great thinkers and reformists. Were once the consistent source of humorous subtlety, which creeps in connotations, but always blazons to boisterous laughter and commentary.
The man with his hand on the button used eat to cookies and cake in the lounge of some university between talking jive.
However, I have no interest in blowing stuff up. At least not at this point in life.
I entered the lounge at uni to find the bright faces, only parred by their budding intellects. Each of us are united by the common interests in International Study, and our reasons/goals/ambitions for doing so differ in many ways. But however opposite our destination we all seem to come from the same place.
Something happened to us, this world, to someone, and it inspired us to pursue a personal age of enlightenment. An obscure commonality which can make for many magical dissertations, case studies and debates.
When the only current international contribution to be made is a thesis that no one will ever read, the budding minds have few outlets to make use of eloquent energies.
In the still of the afternoon. On a normative last day of August. A polish student was full of s***.
He explained how his last name translates into "pudding". This became a conversation about Poles with superpowers. Then morphed into using pudding as tool in foreign policy. Somewhere in here the Pole starts speaking in a Russian accent pantomiming as a waiter offering shots to patrons. And so on...
One person full of caca would be anomalous. And to political scientist, a deviant case. However, a room full of persons full of caca is not strange, it's prototypical. It's out of hand. The area filled with texts books on homeland securities, international policies, and case studies as now filled with hot airs of hypothetical BS.
Political scientist seek to ask questions by posing a hypothesis.
"If x, then y"
This equation in the hands of unfocused geniuses turns into.
"If pudding is the principal natural resource for Poland, then would the national GDP would stand for Gross Domestic Pudding."
Which graduates to:
"When I was six I told my granddad I was sick. He gave me a shot of honey and vodka."
"What if this is how decisions are made? Like the delegates sit around and take shots of pudding vodka and decide which bills to veto."
Over an hour later and everything I've learned is hypothetical and theoretically asinine.
However diverting the exchange was, the connection between the budding minds was uncanny. It could only happen in that moment. These persons. These personalities. This field of study.
I doubt that many would understand a joke about how a 4 cylinder Russian p.o.s mini car fits 3 capitalist, but fits 5 if they're communist. But without any unction we all laughed.
I will always associate Poland with pudding.
No matter how much I learn about post war conditions and repatriation, I will remember an hour and a half of jive about Polish Pudding.
"WAIT! WAIT! wait. What if you're at like some foreign delegation 30 years from now and you have to speak about Poland, and you can only flashback to this conversation?"
The man with his hand on the button used to joke about Polish Pudding.
Good thing I don't want to blow anything up. At least not yet.