Musings

Good evening, and welcome to this week’s celebrity interview. I’m Larry Sommers. This week we are very lucky to have with us a woman of great stature in the world of literature. Her works are rooted in the Greek traditions but has inspired writings in virtually all languages of the world. Her talents are unmatched and along with her eight sisters, they form a dominating force in the artistic development of the western hemisphere. Please welcome, a very special guest, Erato, the muse of poetry.

Erato: Thank you Larry, thank you very much.
Larry: So Erato, you are best known as a daughter of Zeus which makes you a demigod. I know I will get in trouble for asking this of a lady, but how old are you?
Erato: Oh, you don’t have to be embarrassed. I’m nearly 4,000 years old.
Larry: You don’t look a day over 18.
Erato: (Giggles) I know. It’s what happens to us demigods.
Larry: You are the muse of poetry. What is it that you do exactly?
Erato: Well, it’s my job to be inspirational to poets. Anyone who wants to write a poem will find me there. You see, the ancient Greeks – as we call them today –wanted to communicate as beautifully as they could. Prose was not enough. After I was born, I worked with the great poet Aristpapoutsi and inspired him to integrate rhythm into the written word. His work became an instant bestseller. Scribes couldn’t carve stone tablets fast enough. We sold nearly 500 copies. Keep in mind, only 600 people in the known world could read at that time. It is unfortunate that none of his works survive to this day.
Larry: What is the most challenging aspect of your job?
Erato: Really, the most challenging part is illiteracy. For instance, during the height of the Greek era, I had four under-muses and they each had several underunder-muses, each with a full compliment of workers and staff. Responsibilities were divided by languages and regions. Enough poems were being produced to keep all of us very busy. However, during the dark ages, the entire department was let go and I easily covered all of Europe alone. After a few centuries of that, I was even in danger of being downsized and sent to early retirement. Luckily, the renaissance kicked in when it did!
Larry: What do you consider your best work?
Erato: That’s a tough one, as there’s so many great works. There are really two that stands out. The first one is Dante’s Divine Comedy. That took so much effort both of our parts. You see, Dante, by that point, wasn’t really interested in writing anymore. He felt that he was pass his prime and was more inclined to tend to his vineyard. It took years to convince him to write seriously again. When he did, he really put his heart into it and voila, you get Purgatory.
Larry: What’s the second one?
Erato: Sam I Am. It looks so simple yet if one takes the time to examine the underlying structure, one can see the works of a genius.
Larry: Well, that’s all the time we have for now. Thank you for joining us, Erato.
Erato: It was my pleasure.
Larry: And now, an inspiration:

My guest for next week -
You won’t find him anywhere
The Unknown Soldier

An Improvised Story

Once upon a time there was a princess that lived in the Castle-in-the-Clouds. She was a fair maiden and although her cloud was neither the largest nor the highest in the sky, it was by far the whitest. Her skin and hair was pure blonde and the reputation of her beauty extended throughout the skies and beyond.

Every day she would wait by the window for a prince to come and take her away. However, most princes these days were interested in only the princesses that lived in the really big clouds or the really high ones. This distressed her greatly and she would spend many hours looking forlornly out the window.

Until one day, she got so fed up that she officially declared herself a maiden in distress. She sent her couriers out to all the neighboring kingdoms seeking a knight in shining armor to urgently come and rescue her.

Because of that, several knights came gallivanting towards her cloud asking for her hand in marriage. In order to choose between them, she set them in competitions to fight for her hand. It was a great circus and people from all the kingdoms came to catch this one-in-a-lifetime event.

Because of that, the cloud treasury grew by ten-fold from the tax revenues of the spectators. The princess looked at the money she made and realized that there was quite a business to be had!

And ever since then, she was known not only as the princess that lived in the Castle-in-the Clouds but also as the CEO of RoyaltyMatch.com, an exclusive dating website for princes and princesses.

Her husband was simply known as Bob.

Competitions to Follow

The World Cup, the Olympics, the Superbowl. These are just three of the great competitive events that are broadcasted worldwide and enjoyed by millions of fans. And yet these are merely three competitions out of the thousands that take place around the world. This entry is here to merely inform the reader of other competitions that are out there.

Every July, the Bulwyer-Lytton literary contest announces the winners. It is given to the person who writes the worst opening sentence to a novel. Bulwyer-Lytton wrote the opening sentence “It was a dark and stormy night…” that has been immortalized by Snoopy in Peanuts comic strips. All of the entries are a fantastic read and you can find the past winners here at their official website (http://www.bulwer-lytton.com/).

The 2006 winner submitted this entry:
Detective Bart Lasiter was in his office studying the light from his one small window falling on his super burrito when the door swung open to reveal a woman whose body said you've had your last burrito for a while, whose face said angels did exist, and whose eyes said she could make you dig your own grave and lick the shovel clean.
Jim Guigli
Carmichael, CA

What about a more physical contest? Have you ever hear of chess-boxing? It is for those people who thinks that chess needs to incorporate full-body contact and that boxing needs to be more intellectual. Mind you, I do have a lot of respect for these athletes. Not everyone can castle a rook while throwing an uppercut. (http://site.wcbo.org/content/e14/index_en.html)

Elephant polo has made quite a splash in recent years. Apparently the Malaysian team knocked out the favorites to win. Teams of three sit on top of African grey elephants carrying 8 foot long polls and try to knock a softball-sized object into a goal. It is the perfect game summer league sport. It would be trivial to bully those pesky baseball players off the field so your team can practice. (http://www.elephantpolo.com/)

The competitive world of Rock-Paper-Scissors is also a season to follow closely. It is a sport where one nervous twitch can cost one the competition. Injuries can devastate the careers of these great athletes. The human body is not made for repetitive motion and RPS competitors, if they throw too many scissors in a row, may find themselves with a bad case of repetitive-stress-injury or even tendonitis. (http://www.worldrps.com/)

So let us come up with our own! There are many great ideas that have not been done yet. Submarine drag racing? Add figure skating as an event for the World’s Strongest Man Competition? Or start the International Hungry-Hungry Hippo congress? Leave a comment with your ideas!

The Great Stink

Festivals are always named after their theme. The Cannes film festival and the Rockport Chamber Music Festival are just what they seem to be. Burning Man is about embracing the counter culture that culminates in burning an effigy of a man. But there are some festivals that not only have a descriptive name but also have an apt nickname. The Gilroy Garlic festival, commonly referred to as “The Great Stink” is one that falls into the latter category.

Mind you, there is nothing stinky about garlic if you’re from the area. If one is driving down the highway, one can tell that they entered Gilroy city limits by the odor wafting through the air conditioning unit. Indeed, the smell is inescapable as one window shops in the downtown and surrounding areas. It would be imminently suitable to nickname the entire city as the Great Stink, not just the festival. For garlic lovers, of which I am one, the smell is heavenly.

Over 100,000 people come to the festival every year to partake in garlic steak, garlic chicken stir-fry, garlic stuffed mushrooms or roasted corn-on-the-cob with garlic butter. Some braver folks will taste garlic ice cream or garlic chocolate. Still others will walk away with garlic mayonnaise, pickled garlic and garlic pesto - ready to try them on recipes from their new garlic cookbooks. Dedicated visitors will pick up their souvenirs of the event that is now in its 26th year.

Here, there are no chasings of greased pigs, but there is a mad garlic-dash similar to an Easter egg hunt. There are no apple pie baking competitions but there is a cookoff. There is no three-legged race, but there is a garlic pealing competition. All of it being family friendly, olfactorically stimulating and gastronomically adventurous.

Because of this festival, I can enjoy my garlic flavored cashew nuts, ponder a recipe for garlic jam while wearing my garlic shaped cap. I just hope my neighbors on my flight don’t mind the stink!

Hiatus

Dear Readers,

I apologize for my recent hiatus and I am glad to say that I should be back on a somewhat regular posting schedule. My absence was due to unexpected occurrences in my life that were outside of my control. As with everything, there is a perfectly good and logical explanation for my absence so please indulge me in a narrative of my last few weeks.

The story begins with my going jogging. It was well after dark and I did not notice the warning sign for “Construction Ahead” along the Esplanade. As a result, I found myself tripping and falling down a storm drain. I survived only because the recent wet weather filled the drain with water that broke my fall. Unfortunately, however, the torrents of water swept me far out into Boston Harbor.

Once I surfaced, I took stock of my situation and saw the light of a fast approaching ship. Luckily, the water was calm that evening so someone on the ship heard my cries of help. I was thrown a lifesaver and hauled onboard. The boat happened to be filled with Russian prisoners being exiled to Siberia. This was disconcerting as I didn’t have my parka with me. Fortunately, the boat stocked a few extra ones just in case they picked up stragglers and I was assigned one.

Upon our arrival to Siberia, we were assigned to rock-chipping duty. Being the only foreigner in the group, the other prisoners selected me King. This was a nice gesture, as it entitled me to an extra packet of airline peanuts for breakfast. Unfortunately, my nut allergy kicked in and I had to be sent for treatment by dog-sled to the nearest hospital, a hundred miles away.

While recuperating at the hospital, I ran into an undercover KGB agent. I convinced the guy that I was a CIA double-agent and I needed to get to the Kremlin to report to my superiors. He agreed to give me a lift to Moscow. Upon my arrival, I realized I had no money, so I put a cap on the ground and started tap-dancing in the Red Square. In a few hours, I had a stack of Rubles – enough for a hotel room and a train ticket to Warsaw. In Poland, I polkaed a fare to Vienna and in Austria, I waltzed to Paris. But in France, there were so many out of work ballet dancers that I could not make a Euro dancing in the Metro.

That’s when I took up basket weaving. I sold what I weaved and with the profits, purchased more bamboo and other building material. I continued the cycle of weaving, selling and buying until I had more building material than I needed. I went to the ocean shore and weaved the largest basket that I could, lined the bottom with tar, and purchased supplies for a long journey. I then weaved a sail that caught the northern trade winds and cruised to America. I landed at Plymouth Rock and hitchhiked back to Boston where I wrote the account that you’ve just read.

So please understand the reason for my absence. It won’t happen again -- Unless, of course, I find myself in Siberia.

The Proverbial Myth-Busters

Consider the tea kettle. Although it is up to its neck in hot water, it sings.

It is common for people to be reminded of the tea kettle when they are in dire situations. Few people, however, question the validity of the statement. Does the statement imply that a tea kettle sings when it is filled with hot water? If so, can it sing some of the world's greatest arias? Can a human be taught how to sing when up to one's neck in hot water?

Let us consider the first question – how does a kettle sing. For our experiment, we purchased a KitchenAid tea kettle and used a Kenmore gas stove. We measured 2 quarts of water in a graduated cylinder and transferred the fluid into the kettle. Before running the experiment, we donned our safety glasses – remember, kids, we are professionals. Do not try this at home.

The kettle was placed on the stove. The initial temperature was 25.6^oC. No sound was detected from the kettle at this point. The heat was turned to “high”. After 2 minutes, we heard a rumbling sound, as if a tractor was revving its engines. We assumed this was equivalent to the warm up exercises of singers. After 4 minutes 42 seconds, the kettle began to exhibit steam. Ten seconds later, a loud whistling was heard – presumably, the kettle was now singing. The temperature of the water was 100^oC. We then attempted to decipher what it was singing. The language was unknown and sounded but sounded like a high-pitched equivalent of a blue whale’s mating call.

Next, we tried to teach it to sing. Since we did not know its voice part, we chose four distinct pieces of music, Don Giovanni’s Aria from Mozart’s opera, a tenor part, “I am the Very Model of a Modern Major General”, a bass part, “Habarera” from Carmen, alto, and “Hit me Baby, one More Time”, soprano. The kettle sang all four pieces of music with the exact same sound and the exact same interpretation.

To test the second question, whether anyone can sing when up to one’s neck in hot water, we went to Times Square in New York City. We built a 6’ tall wooden pyre and set a large human-sized cauldron filled with water. Then, with our safety glasses on, we solicited volunteers from the streets to sit in the cauldron while we lit the pyre in order to see if they could sing when the water temperature reached 100^oC. Unfortunately, for this part of the experiment, we were unable to procure any volunteers; however, our safety glasses did prevent us from obtaining several black eyes.

We concluded that although the kettle sings in hot water, its language is unknown and it does not seem capable of learning a human language. It is unknown if a human could be taught how to sing by standing in hot water.

Thus:
The myth that kettles sing: CONFIRMED
The myth that kettles can sing great music: BUSTED
The myth that anyone can sing in hot water: INCONCLUSIVE

Tune in next time as we find out whether the pen is truly mightier than the sword, or if actions speak louder than words.

This Man's Life

"What should I do for the rest of my life?" Dave asked Ms. Henry.

She laughed out loud. "David!" she exclaimed. "You're only in kindergarten! You don’t need to worry about it at your age! Here, go and enjoy yourself in the playground. See, there are some of your friends playing kickball. Why don’t you go join them?

And so he played to his heart’s content.

"What should I do for the rest of my life?" Dave asked Prof. Thurber.

"Well," answered Prof. Thurber with a thoughtful pause. "I don't think I'm qualified to answer that. What I can say is for you to use your freshman year to explore the opportunities out there for you. There is the core curriculum that everyone has to take, but use your electives to take a few introductory classes in the different departments and see what you really like. Use this time to explore your options, to learn about what out there really fascinates you."

And so he learned as much as his head could hold.

"What should I do for the rest of my life?" Dave asked his boss.

"You're on a good track for a career. Work hard. Take advantage of the opportunities that are offered to you here. Put in your time and effort and you’ll do well. But don’t get stuck. If it seems like your career isn’t moving, then find something else to do that is moving. Never stagnate.

And so he worked hard and moved up quickly.

"What should I do for the rest of my life?" Dave asked his mother on his wedding day.

"You now have a sacred responsibility to another. Be a faithful husband and when it is time, a faithful and father. You must be there to support them and when you're in need, they will be there to support you. Your wife will be your guide through life and your children will be your legacy."

And so he bore his responsibility nobly.

"What should I do for the rest of my life?" Dave asked the rabbi in between chemotherapy treatment.

The rabbi smiled. "You have lived a rich and full life. You should rest."

And so he did.