So, I was chatting with Stephen Hawking today about a few little things. Ever since we went our separate ways, we've made it a point to keep in touch. It's been neat to see Steve become one of the foremost thinkers in theoretical physics in our time, and, I assure you, my progress as a corporate lackey has been just as exciting to him.

As a matter of fact, we discussed corporate life rather extensively today, as Stephen has a very strong interest in it. I was pointing out that corporate life, in my opinion, might only be slightly better than the life of, say, a prisoner.

"That's ridiculous," said Steve. "Life in an American prison very well might offer greater opportunities for personal growth and reward than life in an American corporation."

"Care to put your money where your mouth is, bitch?" I asked him.

"You're on," he replied.

And, so we have it: A point/counter-point between myself and Stephen Hawking on the subject of American corporate life vs. the life of a person in the American penal system.

We will be basing our argument on several factors:

1. Opportunity for personal growth
2. Opportunity for reward
3. Freedom

Without any further ado, then, let us begin.

R: Ever since becoming a cog in the giant corporate machine, I have found many occasions to better myself. My typing skills have increased by no less than 20 WPM, I can now change a toner cartridge without referring to the manual, and I can simultaneously answer the phone while responding to email. You might say I've become a bit of a Renaissance man these past few years. These skills will no doubt open many doors for me in the hallway of life. I'm glad for what has happened, and I'm proud of what I've done. Plus, now that I've finally settled into a routine that is completely unchanging, the only variable in my life is my hairline, and I think that this greatly enhances my chances with the opposite sex. Only women on TV want an exciting, virile man with a taste for adventure. Real women prefer men who are immobile, balding, and sleepy. This is a scientific fact.

S: Those are some very good points, Rory, but I can't help but think that your endeavors, impressive as they are, pale in comparison to the enrichment that is possible under the warden's ever-watchful eye. For example, did you ever consider the fact that hundreds of thousands of tax dollars are diverted each year to furnish our hungry boys in coveralls with nice deli meats? Where are your deli meats?

R: What does that have to do with personal growth?

S: Piss off.

R: We recently completed a very difficult project at my company. Twelve of us had spent the previous eighteen weeks working fourteen hours a day, often with no breaks. I didn't have a single weekend for myself, lost my wife of seven years, my friends won't call me, and I was even so stressed out that I got arrested for beating a magazine rack in a 7-11 senseless after it looked at me the wrong way. But you know what? When it was all over, our hard work, blood (literally), and sweat were rewarded. The Monday morning following the completion of the project, I found a balloon and two movie tickets on the desk in my cubicle. Next to these gifts was a photocopied certificate indicating that I am a "Very Appreciated Worker." What better reward could one receive? The satisfaction that the project made the company thirty million dollars? No! I'm not in it for the money!

S: Poppycock. There can be no greater reward than knowing that you have served your time, shed your evil ways, and reformed the criminal element once present in your person, becoming a productive and useful member of the human race. As a prisoner, you have the opportunity to become a beacon of light in a world overrun by corruption. The reward of a prisoner is only that of helping the rest of the world learn from itself.

R: That's life after prison, Stephen.

S: Drat! You're so smart, Rory.

R: As long as I finish my TPS reports, I am allowed one part of one day of each week for my own enjoyment. That's only slightly less free time than that of a typical slave in ancient Greece, which was the great font of humanity from which our modern western-world sprang forth. Because I appreciate the level of freedom afforded me by my company, I choose to reward my company by spending my three hours of free time studying TPS report techniques. Every week, I'm slightly better at what I do, which means that my manager has been able to slowly lay off my coworkers as I pick up their slack. Sure, I haven't seen my kids in three years, but I know this is worth it. What are my alternatives? Make more money as a panhandler and spend my afternoons digging my toes into the cool grass in the park under the sun with a book in my hands? You call that freedom? I call that freeDUMB. Ha ha.

S: Oh, Rory. You always have a trump card, and you have no reservations about pulling it. I cannot argue with this. I concede on this point, as it is impossible for me, the brilliant Stephen Hawking, to imagine how the "freedom" enjoyed by a federally sponsored loafer could be any better than what you have described. They have to exercise, read, eat, and spend their afternoons in front of the television. They never even get the chance to improve their TPS report skills. Your brilliance astounds me. When you ghost-wrote A Brief History of Time for me (at the tender age of nine, no less!), I was impressed. However, as our friendship has grown over the years, it has become clear to me that the depths of your character are perhaps more profound than the vastness of the Universe Itself. You are an awe-inspiring mental giant, and I throw myself at your mercy.

R: You pussy, Steve.

R: I think it's fairly obvious who won this battle of the wits. There shouldn't be any question at all that I, Rory, have again reigned supreme as a super-thinker who is not to be tested, even by the likes of renown theoretical physicist, Stephen Hawking. Your brain is but a mere mote in the shadow of my tiniest, most insignificant thought. Plus, I'm psychic.

S: Rory, your humility is perhaps only second to your extremely good looks. I have never met your equal.

R: And you never will, Steve... You never will.