Dear Slartibartfast3,
It has been many years since we’ve met but my memory of your visit lives on. I hope that you’ve arrived in your own time safe and sound. I remember, before you left, you mentioned that it would be a long and hard journey, full of great perils and many unknowns far beyond your control. If you did not make it back, then this letter is nothing more than words from a fool. But if you are reading this, then I am sure you are well.
I hope that you still remember who I was and that you recall the great times we had together during our youth. I still remember our travels through Europe, Asia and America. I remember the times spent at the great opera houses, the historic palaces and the ancient temples. I introduced you to my friends and we spent the holidays eating, drinking and being merry. They were great days of joy and laughter that I hold dear to my heart.
Please remember that when I first met you, you were disoriented, unorganized, and a miserable wreck. You did not know the time of day, nor day of the year. It was I who nursed you back to health. I let you sleep in my own bed and wear my own clothes. I gave you access to my bank account and credit cards when you were broke. I even helped you land a job and become integrated in the society that was “today” so that you could afford supplies for your journey forward in time. In short, it was I who got you to where you are now.
Now I am writing to ask for a favor in return. You are the only person who’s capable of telling my future and I want to know about it. Where will I live? What will I be doing? Who will I marry? How can I be happy? How do I become rich? Will life be fulfilling? Will I find peace? I gave you your life back. Are the answers to these questions too much to ask for?
Since I don’t know when you will receive this letter, nor if and when you will act upon it, consider this to be a constant reminder from a creditor that payment is eminently due. I do not know when you will pay in full, but I have full faith that you will. Time is a tricky mechanism, so please ignore this letter if you’ve already answered them. If not, I look forward to a speedy response.
I hope your journey was a good one. I hope you passed your trials and tribulations with little to show for them. And I hope, for my own sake, that you arrived safe and sound.
Truly Yours,
Slartibartfast3
April 2006
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
How to Chase Windmills
1) Locate a windmill. An old wooden one with four blades is ideal. A three bladed windmill used for generating electricity can be used if a wooden windmill is unavailable. Windmills with metalic turbines are also acceptable but they rust rather easily.
2) Find a horse. Although it is possible to chase windmills without utilizing a horse, it is commonly accepted that "giving chase" in the proper fashion will involve an equine. A steed is prefereable as it will give you the most amount of manuverability to dodge the windmill. If one is not readily available, any four-legged animal that will accept a saddle will suffice.
3) Obtain a lance. If one is not readily available, find a tree, chop it down and carve out a solid piece of wood. If you have a strong horse, your lance should be 12 to 15 feet long. If you have a weak horse, 6 to 10 feet will be enough. If you are on foot, you may want to use a broomstick or mop handle.
4) Imagine that the windmills are really giants ravaging the countryside. This is the hardest step and involves the most amount of concentration. Close your eyes and think hard. Furrow your eyebrows if necessary. Do not open your eyes until you see fearsome giants.
5) Charge. This is a straightforward step.
6) Get your lance caught in the spoke of the windmill. Depending on your strength, you can hold onto the lance and be dragged up into the air as the windmill turns or you may let go of your grip and fall face first into the ground. The choice is yours.
7) Wait for the medical team to arrive. Mumble something about giants turning into windmills so that they could escape your wrath. Be very insistent that the gods are having a joke at your expense.
8) Be deemed mentally unfit and be dragged off to the psychiatric ward. Be put into a straightjacket in solitary confinement. Most places will perform this only at last resort. Charging at windmills is an uncommon ailment and warrants drastic measures.
9) Imagine a windmill. This should not be too hard since you succeeded at step 4.
10) Imagine a horse.
11) Repeat.
2) Find a horse. Although it is possible to chase windmills without utilizing a horse, it is commonly accepted that "giving chase" in the proper fashion will involve an equine. A steed is prefereable as it will give you the most amount of manuverability to dodge the windmill. If one is not readily available, any four-legged animal that will accept a saddle will suffice.
3) Obtain a lance. If one is not readily available, find a tree, chop it down and carve out a solid piece of wood. If you have a strong horse, your lance should be 12 to 15 feet long. If you have a weak horse, 6 to 10 feet will be enough. If you are on foot, you may want to use a broomstick or mop handle.
4) Imagine that the windmills are really giants ravaging the countryside. This is the hardest step and involves the most amount of concentration. Close your eyes and think hard. Furrow your eyebrows if necessary. Do not open your eyes until you see fearsome giants.
5) Charge. This is a straightforward step.
6) Get your lance caught in the spoke of the windmill. Depending on your strength, you can hold onto the lance and be dragged up into the air as the windmill turns or you may let go of your grip and fall face first into the ground. The choice is yours.
7) Wait for the medical team to arrive. Mumble something about giants turning into windmills so that they could escape your wrath. Be very insistent that the gods are having a joke at your expense.
8) Be deemed mentally unfit and be dragged off to the psychiatric ward. Be put into a straightjacket in solitary confinement. Most places will perform this only at last resort. Charging at windmills is an uncommon ailment and warrants drastic measures.
9) Imagine a windmill. This should not be too hard since you succeeded at step 4.
10) Imagine a horse.
11) Repeat.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
How the Platypus got its Duckbill
Platypus busily worked on repairing his thatched roof. This evening’s forecast called for rain and Platypus needed to prepare for it. But he could not work too late. You see, tonight was also the night of Bear’s Annual Honey Party.
Bear’s Annual Honey Party ranked as the largest party in the forest. It was far bigger than Rabbit’s V8 Party with 45 varieties of carrot juice. It was much better attended than Stork’s Anchovies Party where only Pelican came and all the fish boycotted their invitations. The Honey Party was where any animals who was some animal came to be seen. Eagle changed her migration patterns in order to attend. Lion scheduled a speech for re-election. Even Rocky and Bullwinkle put off saving the world for a day in order to make an appearance.
So Platypus had to go. But there was a problem. He hated honey. Now, in most other cases, it would not make a difference. People never attended Vulture’s Roadkill Party for the food or Koala’s Bark Party for the eucalyptus cough drops. But everyone in the forest loved honey. Everyone but Platypus.
Last year, Platypus tried not eating the honey but everyone made fun of him. Two years ago, he tried to be allergic to honey. It worked for a short time until Doctor Frog came by and said that there was no such thing as a honey allergy. This year, he had a fool-proof plan. Old Duck, who happens to live next door to Platypus, had a pair of false bills. Since Old Duck was injured, he could not make the party but agreed to lend his false bills to Platypus. Platypus would pretend to eat the honey but instead store it in the bill so that he could dump it into the river when he got home. It was a fool-proof plan. Nothing could go wrong.
Platypus finished patching his roof with not a moment to spare so he donned his costume and left. Later that night, Platypus returned fully satisfied with himself. His plan worked like a charm. No one guessed that he was actually storing all the honey he ate in his false bills. In fact, he got so confident with himself, he ate more than anyone else at the party. Everyone commented on how much he loved honey this year after hating it for all previous years. Platypus went straight to bed, tired but happy, with the intention of cleaning out the bill first thing in the morning.
But as fate would have it, it not only rained that night, it snowed. The sudden drop in temperature froze the honey inside the bills and Platypus awoke to the bill firmly stuck in place. Platypus tried desperately to remove the bill to no avail. Doctor Frog came by to see what he could do but all he did was shake his head. The honey had frozen into Platypus’s fur and the attachment was permanent.
For all the years that Platypus lived, he never attended the honey party ever again.
And that is how the platypus got its duckbill.
Bear’s Annual Honey Party ranked as the largest party in the forest. It was far bigger than Rabbit’s V8 Party with 45 varieties of carrot juice. It was much better attended than Stork’s Anchovies Party where only Pelican came and all the fish boycotted their invitations. The Honey Party was where any animals who was some animal came to be seen. Eagle changed her migration patterns in order to attend. Lion scheduled a speech for re-election. Even Rocky and Bullwinkle put off saving the world for a day in order to make an appearance.
So Platypus had to go. But there was a problem. He hated honey. Now, in most other cases, it would not make a difference. People never attended Vulture’s Roadkill Party for the food or Koala’s Bark Party for the eucalyptus cough drops. But everyone in the forest loved honey. Everyone but Platypus.
Last year, Platypus tried not eating the honey but everyone made fun of him. Two years ago, he tried to be allergic to honey. It worked for a short time until Doctor Frog came by and said that there was no such thing as a honey allergy. This year, he had a fool-proof plan. Old Duck, who happens to live next door to Platypus, had a pair of false bills. Since Old Duck was injured, he could not make the party but agreed to lend his false bills to Platypus. Platypus would pretend to eat the honey but instead store it in the bill so that he could dump it into the river when he got home. It was a fool-proof plan. Nothing could go wrong.
Platypus finished patching his roof with not a moment to spare so he donned his costume and left. Later that night, Platypus returned fully satisfied with himself. His plan worked like a charm. No one guessed that he was actually storing all the honey he ate in his false bills. In fact, he got so confident with himself, he ate more than anyone else at the party. Everyone commented on how much he loved honey this year after hating it for all previous years. Platypus went straight to bed, tired but happy, with the intention of cleaning out the bill first thing in the morning.
But as fate would have it, it not only rained that night, it snowed. The sudden drop in temperature froze the honey inside the bills and Platypus awoke to the bill firmly stuck in place. Platypus tried desperately to remove the bill to no avail. Doctor Frog came by to see what he could do but all he did was shake his head. The honey had frozen into Platypus’s fur and the attachment was permanent.
For all the years that Platypus lived, he never attended the honey party ever again.
And that is how the platypus got its duckbill.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
The Truly Great
Great cities are a rare find. History has but a handful and in the modern world, achieving Great status is just as difficult as maintaining it. Great cities must be artistic centers. Paris has the famous Opera House and the Louvre. They must be the center of trade and commerce. The Tokyo, Hong Kong and London stock exchanges control the world’s economy. Being a capitol city helps but does not guarantee Great status. Very few people would make a trip solely to visit Brasilia or Canberra instead of Rio de Janeiro or Sydney. Hosting an international event helps raise its global profile. Who paid attention to Seoul before they hosed the Olympic Games? Now it has an honor that few cities obtain.
Among all of the Great cities in the world, there is but one and only one that is Truly Great: New York. It has all the prerequisites, being the home to Picasso, Copland and John Steinbeck while performers flock to debut at Carnegie Hall or the MET. Its port is the nexus of commerce east of the Mississippi. It has hosted world fairs and is the permanent home of the UN while the New York Stock Exchange dwarfs the importance of all the other exchanges combined.
But there was one event that happened on a brisk February afternoon in Union Square that catapulted New York far above its peers to earn it the rank of Truly Great. It was a day when a crowd of people gathered nervously, some still in their pajamas. All came with armed with one weapon in common: a pillow. Yes, it was the day of the Great Pillowfight.
For an hour, pillows got tossed, swung, stabbed, parried, flung, jabbed, hurled, dodged, thrown and blocked. Every once and awhile a pillow would burst, sending a cloud of feathers up into the air that slowly dispersed through the neighborhood. From a distance they looked like flakes of snow, until they landed on a nice black fleece and you realized that the only way to remove it was with a lint roller.
One brave lady sat on the shoulders of a comrade that gave her an immense advantage in height. But that advantage was quickly subdued when she became the center of attention and all of those around began to attach her mercilessly. All she could do was but fend off the attack by fluffy objects. Her victory was short and in the end, her thoughts of conquest dashed, she joined the masses in their free-for-all.
During this entire time, four NYC policemen stood by and watched. They looked rather perturbed, as if they did not quite know how to handle the situation. I’m sure they were very well trained with their firearms, knives and nightsticks, but pillows are not included in standard policeman issue so they were unfortunately outclassed.
You may be saying to yourself at this point, “How silly! That never happened! You must be running out of ideas and have started inventing stories to write about!”
I will tell you this. Sometimes reality is the best imagination we will ever have.
Among all of the Great cities in the world, there is but one and only one that is Truly Great: New York. It has all the prerequisites, being the home to Picasso, Copland and John Steinbeck while performers flock to debut at Carnegie Hall or the MET. Its port is the nexus of commerce east of the Mississippi. It has hosted world fairs and is the permanent home of the UN while the New York Stock Exchange dwarfs the importance of all the other exchanges combined.
But there was one event that happened on a brisk February afternoon in Union Square that catapulted New York far above its peers to earn it the rank of Truly Great. It was a day when a crowd of people gathered nervously, some still in their pajamas. All came with armed with one weapon in common: a pillow. Yes, it was the day of the Great Pillowfight.
For an hour, pillows got tossed, swung, stabbed, parried, flung, jabbed, hurled, dodged, thrown and blocked. Every once and awhile a pillow would burst, sending a cloud of feathers up into the air that slowly dispersed through the neighborhood. From a distance they looked like flakes of snow, until they landed on a nice black fleece and you realized that the only way to remove it was with a lint roller.
One brave lady sat on the shoulders of a comrade that gave her an immense advantage in height. But that advantage was quickly subdued when she became the center of attention and all of those around began to attach her mercilessly. All she could do was but fend off the attack by fluffy objects. Her victory was short and in the end, her thoughts of conquest dashed, she joined the masses in their free-for-all.
During this entire time, four NYC policemen stood by and watched. They looked rather perturbed, as if they did not quite know how to handle the situation. I’m sure they were very well trained with their firearms, knives and nightsticks, but pillows are not included in standard policeman issue so they were unfortunately outclassed.
You may be saying to yourself at this point, “How silly! That never happened! You must be running out of ideas and have started inventing stories to write about!”
I will tell you this. Sometimes reality is the best imagination we will ever have.
Monday, February 20, 2006
The Importance of Reading
“We Serve Only Patented IH-22 Lactic Acid Bacteria Kimchi.”
These were the words that greeted me on my placemat as I sat down for lunch at a korean restaurant in New York City. They surprised me - I did not expect to delve too deeply into digestive sciences before my meal, but this is New York and anything can happen. After navigating the menu and choosing my meal, I began to study the writings in front of me.
“By using soybean protein instead of salted fish for fermentation, Dok-do Kimchi contains plenty of bean oligo peptide, amino acid, calcium from vegetables, iron, and vitamins.”
So much can be learned about a culture by reading their placemats. In Chinatown, customers are greeted with colorful placemats with the twelve animals of the zodiac and can read descriptions of each trait. You can tell that the Chinese greatly value animals and their mystical abilities. If one wants to have a long life, they will eat a monkey. If one wants to be handsome, they can eat a snake. Wise people are in short supply because the last time a dragon was slayed was in 274AD by St. George.
“Dok-do Kimchi contains a large quantity of lactic acid bacteria IH-22 which stays active when ingested. This aids in creating a self protective film against acid in the stomach.”
The larger-than-life color photos of Big Macs on McDonald placemats never made me want to eat more Big Macs. Rather, they made me disappointed that the one I just purchased was only a quarter of the picture size. If they really wanted to court my business, the real-deal has to be at least the same size as the ones in the advertisements.
“The patented lactic acid bacteria IH-22 and the dietary fiber in Dok-do Kimchi help remove toxic wastes from your digestive tract by drawing them out of your body.”
Placemats at diners along America’s superhighways are filled with local advertisements. Here, drivers can relax and truly appreciate the commercialization of America without having to worry about passing a billboard before memorizing the telephone number. As an added bonus, the placemat can even be folded up and taken away as a constant reminder that yes, you too can save 15% or more on auto insurance by calling Geico.
IH-22 lactic acid has been proven to eliminate and suppress harmful bacteria that cause food poisoning (from a clinical test at Seoul Women’s University, Korea).”
But the truly sublime ones are pure Bond White and textured with curly edges. Their slate is empty, they sit there seemingly silent and tame and yet they taunt “write on me” to someone armed with a crayon. Their story is yet to be told, their life has yet to be lived.
“In a clinical test performed at Chung-Nam National University of Korea, Dok-do Kimchi proved effective on more than 80 percent of patients who suffered from chronic constipation.”
The Koreans are unique in their love of their beloved single-celled organisms. How many cultures would display prominently the features and benefits of the bacteria harbored by their most famous dish? The French do not talk about the yeast cells in their wines and no one discusses the mold in blue cheese.
“Children love Dok-do Kimchi for its non offensive smell. Dok-do Kimchi provides beneficial bacteria to everyone including the elderly.”
An hour later, I left the restaurant with the full knowledge that I ate some pleasant-smelling spicy fermented cabbage which provided me with billions of beneficial bacteria that busily removed carcinogenic waste from my intestinal tract while preventing constipation.
“Great tasting Kimchi without the smell!”
And that is why I’m glad I can read.
These were the words that greeted me on my placemat as I sat down for lunch at a korean restaurant in New York City. They surprised me - I did not expect to delve too deeply into digestive sciences before my meal, but this is New York and anything can happen. After navigating the menu and choosing my meal, I began to study the writings in front of me.
“By using soybean protein instead of salted fish for fermentation, Dok-do Kimchi contains plenty of bean oligo peptide, amino acid, calcium from vegetables, iron, and vitamins.”
So much can be learned about a culture by reading their placemats. In Chinatown, customers are greeted with colorful placemats with the twelve animals of the zodiac and can read descriptions of each trait. You can tell that the Chinese greatly value animals and their mystical abilities. If one wants to have a long life, they will eat a monkey. If one wants to be handsome, they can eat a snake. Wise people are in short supply because the last time a dragon was slayed was in 274AD by St. George.
“Dok-do Kimchi contains a large quantity of lactic acid bacteria IH-22 which stays active when ingested. This aids in creating a self protective film against acid in the stomach.”
The larger-than-life color photos of Big Macs on McDonald placemats never made me want to eat more Big Macs. Rather, they made me disappointed that the one I just purchased was only a quarter of the picture size. If they really wanted to court my business, the real-deal has to be at least the same size as the ones in the advertisements.
“The patented lactic acid bacteria IH-22 and the dietary fiber in Dok-do Kimchi help remove toxic wastes from your digestive tract by drawing them out of your body.”
Placemats at diners along America’s superhighways are filled with local advertisements. Here, drivers can relax and truly appreciate the commercialization of America without having to worry about passing a billboard before memorizing the telephone number. As an added bonus, the placemat can even be folded up and taken away as a constant reminder that yes, you too can save 15% or more on auto insurance by calling Geico.
IH-22 lactic acid has been proven to eliminate and suppress harmful bacteria that cause food poisoning (from a clinical test at Seoul Women’s University, Korea).”
But the truly sublime ones are pure Bond White and textured with curly edges. Their slate is empty, they sit there seemingly silent and tame and yet they taunt “write on me” to someone armed with a crayon. Their story is yet to be told, their life has yet to be lived.
“In a clinical test performed at Chung-Nam National University of Korea, Dok-do Kimchi proved effective on more than 80 percent of patients who suffered from chronic constipation.”
The Koreans are unique in their love of their beloved single-celled organisms. How many cultures would display prominently the features and benefits of the bacteria harbored by their most famous dish? The French do not talk about the yeast cells in their wines and no one discusses the mold in blue cheese.
“Children love Dok-do Kimchi for its non offensive smell. Dok-do Kimchi provides beneficial bacteria to everyone including the elderly.”
An hour later, I left the restaurant with the full knowledge that I ate some pleasant-smelling spicy fermented cabbage which provided me with billions of beneficial bacteria that busily removed carcinogenic waste from my intestinal tract while preventing constipation.
“Great tasting Kimchi without the smell!”
And that is why I’m glad I can read.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Answers
Why?
Why not?
Why not ask?
Why ask?
Why ask why?
Why ask anything?
Why pursue anything?
Why pursue answers?
What is not known?
What is known?
What can be known?
Do we know what we don't know?
What is the value of learning what we don't know?
What do we do with the knowledge?
Why not pass it onto someone else?
Who would we pass it to?
Who does not know yet?
Where would we go to find them?
What do they know?
What do they not know?
How does one teach them what they don't know?
How does one teach them to ask for it?
How does one teach them to ask why not?
How does one teach them to ask why?
How does one teach them to ask?
How does one teach them why?
Why not?
Why not ask?
Why ask?
Why ask why?
Why ask anything?
Why pursue anything?
Why pursue answers?
What is not known?
What is known?
What can be known?
Do we know what we don't know?
What is the value of learning what we don't know?
What do we do with the knowledge?
Why not pass it onto someone else?
Who would we pass it to?
Who does not know yet?
Where would we go to find them?
What do they know?
What do they not know?
How does one teach them what they don't know?
How does one teach them to ask for it?
How does one teach them to ask why not?
How does one teach them to ask why?
How does one teach them to ask?
How does one teach them why?
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Change
That's funny, thought John. I can't seem to feel my right hand. It was an odd sensation but not particularly alarming one. It was early in the morning and he had no need for his right hand yet. After awhile, he tried again, this time testing each finger individually, but they still did not respond to his mental commands. He shifted his attention over to his left hands. Index finger? No response. Ring finger? Same result. Next, he tried to bend his arms but they were both locked into position. He moved his attention to his neck muscles but they refused to budge. He then moved his concentration to his lower body. He thought hard about his knees but they refused to flex. What about the toes? No such luck. John sighed. It was going to be one of those mornings. At least I’m warm.
This had been going on for several long months now and John was sick of it. Initially, he thought nothing of it, being rather glad that he had no more responsibility but now he was becoming irritated. He hated being in a vegetative state. To occupy himself, he mentally flexed each muscle every day although they could not respond with physical motion. His morning exercise over, John sighed again and resigned himself to his fate. Usually after his morning exercise, he entertained himself by counting to a million. He averaged about two thousand numbers per day. Yesterday he stopped at two hundred ninety seven thousand eight hundred twenty two. He hoped to break three hundred thousand today.
All of a sudden, there was a tremendous jerk and his world began to shake violently. What’s going on? He thought with alarm. His neck began to squirm, his arms clawed at empty space his legs began to spasm uncontrollably. Stop it! He commanded with all of his energy. Stop it now! His heart pounded faster and faster as his body writhed while being tossed around. All of a sudden, a rush of cold air tingled every nerve in his body. He felt fear like he never felt before and he gave a guttural cry that strained his tender voice box and stretched the capacity of his newly developed lungs.
"Congratulations!" said the nurse to his mother. "It’s a boy!"
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