Shall we gather at the riv -- uh, water cooler?

We don’t have a water cooler at my workplace, but we have water cooler talk.

It’s not what you think. None of that “Did you hear who Lori went out with?” or “Someone needs to tell Larry that soap and underarm deodorant are men’s products, too.” No, when we huddle around the imaginary five-gallon plastic jug filled with H2O, my officemates and I discuss important topics.

Really important topics. I mean, CRITICALLY important.

Batman and -- ugh! -- Robin

Like Batman.

Classic TV shows came up the other day in conversation, when I offered this observation: “If I’d been Batman’s sidekick, I would have demanded a more intimidating bird name than Robin.”

“Really?” a coworker asked. “What kind of name?”

“Oh, Vulture sounds good,” I said. “So does Pigeon. Or maybe Barn Owl. Yeah, I like that one: Barn Owl. Batman and Barn Owl.”

“Hmm…”

“And I’d definitely revolt if the Caped Crusader asked me to wear a costume like Robin’s. Those tight green shorts are an abomination. I could see Barn Owl in a white full-body suit with feathers. The ensemble could be completed with a long curved beak protruding from his mask that he could use to peck the bad guys to justice. That, or just swallow them whole like owls do with field mice.”

“Steve, you’ve given this way too much thought.”

Hold the almonds

On another occasion the topic was candy bars. I submitted that Mars and Milky Way are one and the same.

“Think about what’s inside them. You’ve got caramel and nougat,” I declared. “Apparently, every candy bar named after a celestial body must contain caramel and nougat.”

“Are you sure Mars and Milky Way are exactly the same?” a fellow laborer replied.

“Yeah, I think so. Why don’t you Google it?”

A few mouse clicks later we learned that Milky Way has caramel and nougat, while Mars contains caramel, nougat AND almonds.

“I’d forgotten about the almonds in Mars,” I quipped. “Almonds are always are the overlooked ingredient in candy, except for Almond Joy, which almost everyone hates because it’s stuffed with coconut. They wouldn’t sell a single one if it were named Coconut Joy.”

“That’s a very, uh, interesting point, Steve,” my colleague uttered.

Then there was the Saturday morning cartoons conversation.

“You know the TV networks have ruined that institution when SpongeBob SquarePants is considered old school,” I opined. “Give me the Warner Brothers cartoons. Bugs Bunny toying with dimwitted Elmer Fudd; the self-aggrandizing Daffy Duck; the speech-impaired Porky Pig and Sylvester the Cat; the politically incorrect Speedy Gonzales; the lovelorn Pepe Le Pew; the good ol’ boy Foghorn Leghorn; the bumbling genius Wile E. Coyote – ”

“They were great, all right,” an officemate broke in, possibly glancing at her watch, although I wasn’t completely sure.

Where can I buy one?

“Comic violence, slapstick, satire – they had it all,” I effused, hardly skipping a beat. “And there were anvils – lots of anvils! Someone was always getting hit in the head with an anvil. Do people even use anvils anymore? I wouldn’t even know where to buy an anvil, if I had to.”

“Can’t help you there, Steve. Why don’t you Google it?”

“Good idea. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

“Take your time, Steve. Pleeeeease, take your time.”