When somebody asks me a question, I tell them the answer.

Rorschach's Journal.
19th March, 2009.

Got a call from a telemarketer. Called himself Kenny. Spoke with an Indian accent. Pronounced "Bondi" as "Bon-DEE". Wanted to ask me three quick questions. I said I wanted to ask him three quick questions. One for one. He agreed.


My first question is: have you ever invested in the stock market?

Yes, I have. OK, my turn: have you seen Slumdog Millionaire?

No, I have not.

OK, your go.

Would you consider investing if a major opportunity with a potential for large profits arose and you felt like it?

Yes, I would. My turn: do you speak Hindustani?

No, I do not. Is it OK if one of our consultants sends you a letter regarding a major opportunity in the future?

Hmmm. . . my wife doesn't really like it when we get lots of calls and mail from investment places.

We are not like that, sir. We are professionals. You would only receive two to three letters a year.

Well, I guess that's OK then. Now, my last question: how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

. . . I don't know sir.

Guess.

I couldn't even guess.

Oh, come on, Kenny. You can do it! Just take a guess!

I'm not sure.

Listen to me, Kenny. When opportunity shows up, you don't sit back and worry. You get in there and you give it your best shot. Like when someone offers you a job that's hard, but it might be a way to a better life; you don't sit back and say, "it's too hard". You get in there and you give it your best shot. Am I right, Kenny??

Yes, you are right.

So give me a guess!

Is it three?

Close.

Is it five?

It's between three and five.

It is four then.

Yeah, you got it Kenny. You the man!

Thanks very much, sir.

Have an awesome day, Kenny.

You have a good day, too.

Ciao!

Ok, bye.

Never Really Awake

I have been awake now for 30 hours straight. Wow... what a crazy time it's been. Photos and vids will show up eventually, but the salient points are:

Dawn Chorus, slow dancing, free books, a vocal bipolar Maori and Shmuley Boteach.

I'm sure there's more that I'll remember once I wake up tomorrow, but for now... I'm out!

Congratulations, Mr. President

The other day I watched my first ever presidential inauguration. The last time America got a new president I was 12, and much too young to be bothering with this sort of pomp and circumstance.

I was looking forward to watching the oath of office; I was expecting it to be dramatic and poignant. Thanks a lot for ruining the memory, Chief Justice John Roberts. Obama noticed Roberts had said the words in the wrong order, waited for Roberts to correct himself, and then recited the words incorrectly anyway. Silly, silly Mr. President.

The inaugural address was decent enough. Among the generic "we will work together to defeat America's enemies and overcome its problems" spiel were some oratory nuggets. Of America's enemies Obama said, "we will extend them a hand if they are willing to unclench their fist." I'll be very interested to see how that plays out in his foreign policy.

"We shall harness the power of the sun, wind and soil," he said, of his alternate energy schemes. One anonymous wit postulated that Obama was actually Captain Planet.

But by far the greatest thing in that speech was Obama's statement, "we will restore science to its rightful place."

It filled me with happy feelings, and memories of Portal. Inspired, I threw this together on MS Paint:




Barack Obama: he does what he must because he can.

If 1,000 people read this, AaronJ and Simmons are epic trendsetters

We've all signed into our Facebooks to be greeted by an avalanche of ridiculous invites. Your friends want you to register your approval of the latest chart-topping musician, absurd fashion trend, popular brand of coffee, or political development in the Middle East. They want you to join their fantasy army, mafioso organisation, vampire clan and feudal system.

Which is fine. People can waste their own (and others') time however they like. The bit that simultaneously amuses and irks me (just a little), is how seriously they seem to take it all. They really care how their fictional Bible study group and high school cheerleading squad are coming along.

The best bit is the "number" ones: "If 1,000 people join this group, I'll eat a cockroach"; "If 5,000 people join this group, I'll change my surname to 'Dudemeister'"; "If 100,000 people join this group, Israel's incursion into Gaza is morally, politically and militarily justified". For those of you who are slow to think but quick to keyboard, my point here has nothing to do with the "rightness" of Israel's martial shenanigans. I am simply pointing out the absurdity of believing that having a lot of people in a Facebook group has an actual effect on the Middle Eastern political situation.

Which is where my Facebook group comes in. I call it "1,000,000 strong against nothing in particular!" and the description reads "I bet I can find 1,000,000 people who want to be in a Facebook group with 1,000,000 people."

I'm probably misquoting Albert Camus when I say that "humans spend their whole lives attempting to prove to themselves that their lives are not absurd". But I'm pretty darn sure I've got Fiyero's line nailed...

"I say: why invite stress in? Stop studying strife. And learn to live the unexamined life..."

Some Mild Heresy (with light showers in the afternoon)

I have just had an epiphany of sorts. You ready? Judaism is a gnostic faith. Allow me to explain.

Gnosticism is essentially the belief that the universe was created by an imperfect deity, known as the Demiurge, and that a Supreme Being of pure good exists indepently of said Demiurge. The Demiurge is usually thought of to be either malevolent or simply unable to properly execute perfect good. It's easy enough to see the God of the Hebrews as a Demiurge. After all, his track record is far from perfect. In the delightfully amusing language of Richard Dawkins:

"The God of the Old Testament is arguably the most unpleasant character in all fiction: jealous and proud of it; a petty, unjust, unforgiving control-freak; a vindictive, bloodthirsty ethnic cleanser; a misogynistic, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously malevolent bully."

But this raises the question: if He's the Demiurge, who's the Supreme Being? Who's the Force of pure, omnipotent good that will save us from this world of suffering?

The answer struck me this suddenly afternoon, as I sat in bemused debate with a small troupe of Lubavitchers who were attempting to persuade me to don tefillin. It was so blindingly obvious, that I am astonished I didn't figure it out sooner. The Supreme Being is this guy:


Ha. Bet you didn't think you'd see a photo of him on my blog. Or should that be a capitalised "Him"? After all, according to Lubavitch thought, that man is the Messiah. The one who will lead us into an era of pure good, and perfect/supplant the evil-ridden universe of the Hebrew God.

Sounds like gnosticism to me. What do you think?

Pain and Numberings

Number of Chabad emissaries brutally murdered in Bombay: 2

Number of deaths on the roads of Israel this year*: 244

Number of Israeli Jews who died of lung cancer in 2005**: 1193


"A single death is a tragedy; a million deaths is a statistic."
- attributed to Joseph Stalin


* Source: Israel Central Bureau of Statistics. Motorist fatalities 1/1/08 - 31/8/08.
** Source: Israeli Central Bureau of Statistics. Includes cancers of the trachea and bronchus.

Northrend Musings - All the World's a Toilet

It's not like Blizzard has never made me clean up their shit before (I remember one particular adventure I had in Nagrand). Yet I had hoped, with unwarranted optimism, that I could leave my dung duties behind when I arrived in Northrend.

Alas, twas not to be! No sooner had I stepped off the *boat thingy* than some crazy gnome was having me feed gourmet Sephardi dishes to the local wolf population and search the, uh, products of my labour for missing microfilms.

"That's no problem," I hear you say. "When I go to Northrend, two months after everyone else, I'll just go to Howling Fjord. FIXT!"

So this is where it really gets fun. A gnome in Howling Fjord gave me sticks of dynamite and directed me to throw them under nearby bats to, quite literally, scare the shit out of them. Then, big surprise, I had to collect it. Me, big, hero, saviour-of-the-Alliance me. Once again, picking up droppings.

I'm assuming Blizzard hired heaps of new people to help with the construction of Northrend.

I wonder if they hired someone solely to create feces-based quests.

I wonder where he lives...