Ok. So you know how Mary Kate and Ashley, the Olsen twins, were like THE hottest thing of the late nineties? Right? Well what are they doing now? Nothing. Ok fashion, but that's not where the money is, right? Haha! Right. No. It's in movies. Olsen Twin movies. But we can't just see them now that they're all grown up and plastic surgery face. Blech. Who wants to see that? I don't. I want to see money. Mary Kate and Ashley money. BIG NINETIES COCAINE MONEY. Ok!? Right? But how...?
Double Babies!
Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen are BACK! And they're Double Twouble! (“Double” because there's two of them and they're twins, “Twouble” because it's an adorable take on “trouble” and it rhymes and because you'll see why it makes sense in a minute...).
That's the tagline, now here's the logline: they're secret double-agent babies.
You know how the Bourne Identity is like spy vs spy vs double-spy? Yeah. That plus Mary Kate and Ashley.
(remember how I said the “twouble” would make sense? Eh? Because secret double agents are trouble. Yeah.)
And here's the best part: guys, I didn't even come up with this. Mary Kate and Ashley did. They sent me an email. We're friends. So we had lunch and they said they wanted to move back into acting, maybe become the new Angelina Jolies or Kathy Lee Giffords.
I said “Whoa, whoa, whoa, tweedledee (that's what I call Mary Kate. It's a twins joke.). You guys aren't old enough for action. BUT...”
Then I was quiet for a minute because I was thinking. I was thinking about money.
“Ok Minnesota baseballers (it's another twins thing I call them), here's what I figured out just now: people love the old yous. They hate this new, fashioney, plastic surgery thing you're doing.”
The girls were quiet for a minute (they're good listeners).
Then one of them said “But-.”
And I said “NO BUTS Tweedledum! (that's what I call Ashley) Here's how it's gonna happen: CGI. Voice-Over. We're going to take you back to the height of your fame, before you started this horrible downward spiral.”
Well. They loved it. Look Who's Talking meets James Bond!
How could anyone resist that? They weren't able to. And audiences won't be able to, also. And the best part is, we already have a built-in fanbase with the old fans who aren't children anymore. But there are new children who don't know the magic of Mary Kate and Ashley. They've only recently been born!
So we do a Smurfs 3D Part 2 tie-in. Easy. Children love smurfs.
We name two of the Smurfs Mary Kate Smurf and Ashley Smurf. And they're TWIN smurfs. This is important because the Olsen twins are twins. So we need audiences to know that.
Now there's a secret double-bonus that I don't have to tell you, but I will (“double,” ha!).
I didn't tell the girls this because we're friends, but they are pretty bad at acting.
You know that. I know that.
BUT a lot of horrible actors can still be good VOICE actors! So that solves THAT problem. Also, the Smurfs 3D Part 2 tie-in will give them a chance to practice their voices before their big re-debut!
As for the rest of the movie, I think we've got it pretty much covered. It's a CGI animation hero story, only with twins who are spies, but since they're double-spies, they don't know if they can trust each other, which is tension and story. For the main antagonist...
You sure you want me to spoil it? Ok, well it SEEMS the whole movie like it's Evil Marky Mark, the president of the Evil United States (The United States is evil in the FUTURE, so it's sci-fi too), but then really, the bad guy turns out to be Ashley! Ashley Olsen! No, wait. Mary Kate! Mary Kate Olsen! Because she really wasn't a secret double-agent, she was just an evil single agent all along.
Anyway, the script is being written by Howie Mandel and it's riveting. Audiences are gonna love it. I say we either do Thanksgiving weekend, or we make them Christmas double agents and turn it into holiday season material. Maybe the bad guys can be Jewish or something so we can grab the Hanukkah crowd. Howie's Jewish. I'll pitch that idea to him and see what he thinks.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Profit
Let's cut the chit-chat.
Thank you.
Sorry to be blunt, but this company hired me so we could stop wasting time.
Let's get to the point.
My name's Harold Firer.
I'm a consultant.
I'm basically here so we can stop screwing around as a company and start maximizing out potential.
Our investors are demanding a lot of changes, so if you value your job, listen up.
Got your attention?
Good.
Let's get down to brass tacks.
We aren't making enough money.
We need to be making MORE money.
How are we going to do that?
I'll tell you.
Profit.
Nothing makes money faster than profit.
Profit's not just a buzzword, people.
Profit is real.
It's the most important thing a company has.
Without profit, a company doesn't exist.
We need profit.
Think about it like your blood.
You need your blood, don't you?
Well this company's blood is profit.
It takes profit to be an industry leader.
So how do we get more profit?
Four things:
Decrease overheads.
Cut unnecessary spending costs.
Drive growth.
Increase Revenue.
One. Decrease overheads. Cut the wheat from the chaff.
Maximize output. Maximize productivity.
Fire people.
Two. Cut unnecessary spending costs. Do you really need a stapler?
Really? You?
Why can't we have three staplers that everyone in the company uses?
It costs less.
Economy.
Thrift.
Profit.
Three. Drive growth. Encourage thinking outside the box.
Not daydreaming. Not surfing on youtube. Not facebooking your ex.
You think about how you can make your life better?
Start thinking about how you can make this company better.
Or get out.
Profit.
Four. Increase Revenue. Upcharge our products. Maximize their valuability, and thus, our valuability as a company.
Bring in new clients. New customers. We haven't sold any of our products to your grandmother? Why not?
Do it or get out.
These things are not just “good ideas”.
If we don't do them, we'll die. Understand? We have to start thinking the big thoughts. All of us.
Why do we have a break room? For coffee? How much does coffee cost?
Shut it down.
Bring your own coffee or get out.
No fridge. No lunch. Work. Profit. Eat it. Sleep it.
But don't sleep it at work or we'll have a little “chat” about it. And our conversation will end when you pile your stuff into a cardboard box and, you guessed it, get out.
Don't make eye contact with me. Ever.
Give me your lunch money.
Profit is what we're talking about.
I've made 19 out of 20 companies profitable in the last 9 out of 10 years.
You know how I did that?
Profit.
I don't fuck around. And from now on, neither do you.
I will end you.
Are we clear?
Do you know what I do on weekends?
I fucking take off my clothes and hunt boars with my bare hands.
I am not lying to you.
I don't even use a knife. I use my hands. And my teeth. And my muscles.
Look at my chest.
You think you can take me?
You think you can take a wild boar with your bare hands?
Shut your mouth.
Get to work.
I will kill you and claim it was self-defense.
Do you understand?
The two of you in the back there? Talking to each other?
Fired.
Get out.
Meeting adjourned.
Thank you.
Sorry to be blunt, but this company hired me so we could stop wasting time.
Let's get to the point.
My name's Harold Firer.
I'm a consultant.
I'm basically here so we can stop screwing around as a company and start maximizing out potential.
Our investors are demanding a lot of changes, so if you value your job, listen up.
Got your attention?
Good.
Let's get down to brass tacks.
We aren't making enough money.
We need to be making MORE money.
How are we going to do that?
I'll tell you.
Profit.
Nothing makes money faster than profit.
Profit's not just a buzzword, people.
Profit is real.
It's the most important thing a company has.
Without profit, a company doesn't exist.
We need profit.
Think about it like your blood.
You need your blood, don't you?
Well this company's blood is profit.
It takes profit to be an industry leader.
So how do we get more profit?
Four things:
Decrease overheads.
Cut unnecessary spending costs.
Drive growth.
Increase Revenue.
One. Decrease overheads. Cut the wheat from the chaff.
Maximize output. Maximize productivity.
Fire people.
Two. Cut unnecessary spending costs. Do you really need a stapler?
Really? You?
Why can't we have three staplers that everyone in the company uses?
It costs less.
Economy.
Thrift.
Profit.
Three. Drive growth. Encourage thinking outside the box.
Not daydreaming. Not surfing on youtube. Not facebooking your ex.
You think about how you can make your life better?
Start thinking about how you can make this company better.
Or get out.
Profit.
Four. Increase Revenue. Upcharge our products. Maximize their valuability, and thus, our valuability as a company.
Bring in new clients. New customers. We haven't sold any of our products to your grandmother? Why not?
Do it or get out.
These things are not just “good ideas”.
If we don't do them, we'll die. Understand? We have to start thinking the big thoughts. All of us.
Why do we have a break room? For coffee? How much does coffee cost?
Shut it down.
Bring your own coffee or get out.
No fridge. No lunch. Work. Profit. Eat it. Sleep it.
But don't sleep it at work or we'll have a little “chat” about it. And our conversation will end when you pile your stuff into a cardboard box and, you guessed it, get out.
Don't make eye contact with me. Ever.
Give me your lunch money.
Profit is what we're talking about.
I've made 19 out of 20 companies profitable in the last 9 out of 10 years.
You know how I did that?
Profit.
I don't fuck around. And from now on, neither do you.
I will end you.
Are we clear?
Do you know what I do on weekends?
I fucking take off my clothes and hunt boars with my bare hands.
I am not lying to you.
I don't even use a knife. I use my hands. And my teeth. And my muscles.
Look at my chest.
You think you can take me?
You think you can take a wild boar with your bare hands?
Shut your mouth.
Get to work.
I will kill you and claim it was self-defense.
Do you understand?
The two of you in the back there? Talking to each other?
Fired.
Get out.
Meeting adjourned.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
MANDATORY meeting! 7pm! (dinner provided)
Ok everyone, settle down.
Settle down.
Ok.
Well. This is really great.
I see a lot of new faces, which is great.
Um.
I called this meeting though, because I've been getting a lot of questions recently.
A lot of the same questions, I should say.
So I wanted to clear up any confusion we may- you all- may have.
We're all here because we love one thing: Throw-
Yeah, throwing knives, exactly.
But it's not just that.
It's the potential throwing knives have.
That.
That potential.
Because when you hold the knife that way, I mean, you tell me, can you NOT throw it?
No.
Exactly.
Of course not.
Potential.
And fear.
People fear throwing knives.
And people fear people who throw throwing knives.
Especially people who are good at throwing throwing knives.
And we're all here to get better at throwing throwing knives, right?
Exactly.
I, but-
Ok. I don't want to derail, but first I feel I need to reiterate a few things.
Guys.
Some of us are getting hurt. By each other.
Look at Ted over there.
Look.
Ted, show them your face.
For those of you who weren't here last week, take a good look.
(sigh)
Guys that's rule number one!
Do NOT throw throwing knives at other Throwing Knife Gang members.
Rule number one.
If we don't honour that, I mean, what can I say?
We're hardly a gang. That's what.
What gangs do you know that hurt each other?
I know the Chain Gang doesn't. You ever see their members with chain marks?
No.
They may have flame burns or tire welts or knife marks-
Right Steve, always modest.
Please, a short round of applause for Steve, who-
(Applause)
For you new guys out there, Steve was key in our last scheduled gang fight with the Chain Gang.
You're an asset to the gang, we all know that. But a little modesty-
Anyway, you don't see Chain Gang members with chain marks. That's my point.
And please, don't think for a second that I don't appreciate the-
The enthusiasm our gang has.
The energy.
I really do.
I mean, when we bring it, it's just-
I mean, frankly, we have more energy than any other gang I've seen, and-
We just want to feel like a team, don't we?
Yeah.
Sure we do.
So let's keep that in mind.
Especially you new guys.
Anyway, where was I..
(page flip)
(pause)
(page flip)
(pause)
(page de-flip)
So potential.
Like our throwing knives, we all have potential.
Every one of us.
And this gang.
This gang has potential.
Micky, I don't want to single you out, but-
You know, it's not just Micky.
I've seen a lot of you guys.
When you're out, buying a hot dog, or you know, something else-
You pay for it.
Now, that's not necessarily bad, but I don't see a lot of intimidation.
I don't even see a lot of, you know-
I guess-
I don't know, marketing?
I guess that would be an ok word to use.
I don't see us marketing our gang to local businesses.
You know?
I mean-
I guess I'm getting bogged down in details.
Here's what I see, for us.
For our gang:
We start with small businesses, right?
We muscle them around a bit. Scare them.
Not too much.
But a little.
Then we protect them. From other gangs.
I mean, rival gangs, right?
Then we collect a bit of money from them.
For that protection.
We move up to bigger businesses.
Banks!
Right?
We can rob banks pretty soon.
I mean, by at least August, I would say.
If we play our cards right.
We rob a few banks, we work our way up the ladder.
Control this city a little at a time.
We can even expand to other cities and you know.
Throwing knives.
We work our way up to drugs.
Now look.
I know.
Ok.
I know.
No, I know.
(pause)
Hey.
Guys.
I didn't start this gang to deal drugs.
I didn't.
But that's where the money is.
That's where the power is.
That's a good point Barney. Politics.
We work our way into politics too.
Everything.
You see?!
That's thinking outside the box.
That's thinking about potential.
Let's keep thinking that way.
About potential.
Where can we expand?
Where can we grow?
We all have as much potential as a throwing knife.
And we're great.
Throwing knives are great!
(Applause)
Yeah!
Ok!
So everyone grab a piece of pizza and let's all talk and come up with ideas, ok?
Great!
Thank you!
(Applause)
Settle down.
Ok.
Well. This is really great.
I see a lot of new faces, which is great.
Um.
I called this meeting though, because I've been getting a lot of questions recently.
A lot of the same questions, I should say.
So I wanted to clear up any confusion we may- you all- may have.
We're all here because we love one thing: Throw-
Yeah, throwing knives, exactly.
But it's not just that.
It's the potential throwing knives have.
That.
That potential.
Because when you hold the knife that way, I mean, you tell me, can you NOT throw it?
No.
Exactly.
Of course not.
Potential.
And fear.
People fear throwing knives.
And people fear people who throw throwing knives.
Especially people who are good at throwing throwing knives.
And we're all here to get better at throwing throwing knives, right?
Exactly.
I, but-
Ok. I don't want to derail, but first I feel I need to reiterate a few things.
Guys.
Some of us are getting hurt. By each other.
Look at Ted over there.
Look.
Ted, show them your face.
For those of you who weren't here last week, take a good look.
(sigh)
Guys that's rule number one!
Do NOT throw throwing knives at other Throwing Knife Gang members.
Rule number one.
If we don't honour that, I mean, what can I say?
We're hardly a gang. That's what.
What gangs do you know that hurt each other?
I know the Chain Gang doesn't. You ever see their members with chain marks?
No.
They may have flame burns or tire welts or knife marks-
Right Steve, always modest.
Please, a short round of applause for Steve, who-
(Applause)
For you new guys out there, Steve was key in our last scheduled gang fight with the Chain Gang.
You're an asset to the gang, we all know that. But a little modesty-
Anyway, you don't see Chain Gang members with chain marks. That's my point.
And please, don't think for a second that I don't appreciate the-
The enthusiasm our gang has.
The energy.
I really do.
I mean, when we bring it, it's just-
I mean, frankly, we have more energy than any other gang I've seen, and-
We just want to feel like a team, don't we?
Yeah.
Sure we do.
So let's keep that in mind.
Especially you new guys.
Anyway, where was I..
(page flip)
(pause)
(page flip)
(pause)
(page de-flip)
So potential.
Like our throwing knives, we all have potential.
Every one of us.
And this gang.
This gang has potential.
Micky, I don't want to single you out, but-
You know, it's not just Micky.
I've seen a lot of you guys.
When you're out, buying a hot dog, or you know, something else-
You pay for it.
Now, that's not necessarily bad, but I don't see a lot of intimidation.
I don't even see a lot of, you know-
I guess-
I don't know, marketing?
I guess that would be an ok word to use.
I don't see us marketing our gang to local businesses.
You know?
I mean-
I guess I'm getting bogged down in details.
Here's what I see, for us.
For our gang:
We start with small businesses, right?
We muscle them around a bit. Scare them.
Not too much.
But a little.
Then we protect them. From other gangs.
I mean, rival gangs, right?
Then we collect a bit of money from them.
For that protection.
We move up to bigger businesses.
Banks!
Right?
We can rob banks pretty soon.
I mean, by at least August, I would say.
If we play our cards right.
We rob a few banks, we work our way up the ladder.
Control this city a little at a time.
We can even expand to other cities and you know.
Throwing knives.
We work our way up to drugs.
Now look.
I know.
Ok.
I know.
No, I know.
(pause)
Hey.
Guys.
I didn't start this gang to deal drugs.
I didn't.
But that's where the money is.
That's where the power is.
That's a good point Barney. Politics.
We work our way into politics too.
Everything.
You see?!
That's thinking outside the box.
That's thinking about potential.
Let's keep thinking that way.
About potential.
Where can we expand?
Where can we grow?
We all have as much potential as a throwing knife.
And we're great.
Throwing knives are great!
(Applause)
Yeah!
Ok!
So everyone grab a piece of pizza and let's all talk and come up with ideas, ok?
Great!
Thank you!
(Applause)
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
How To Take A Shower In A College Apartment
1. Place a dry, cleanish towel immediately within reach of the shower.
2. Listen for neighbours to see if someone in another apartment is using up your shared hot water. If they are, skip to step 11. If not, continue to step 3.
3. Check to see how hot the hot water is by itself. If hot, move onto step 4. If lukewarm, move onto step 11. If cold, move onto step 14.
4. Turn on the cold water to a comfortable level. Step into the shower. Point the shower head slightly to one side of the shower. This will come into play during steps 5 and 6.
5. Be on constant alert for the sound of a toilet flushing. If you hear one, duck immediately to the side opposite the water stream, out of harm's way. Wait for scalding water to subside. Do NOT readjust water. This will result in unnecessary freezing backlash when the temperature returns to normal.
6. Be on constant alert for the hot water to immediately give out for no reason whatsoever. When this happens, duck immediately to the side opposite the water stream, out of harm's way. Wait for freezing water to subside. Do NOT readjust water. This will result in unnecessary scalding backlash when the temperature returns to normal.
7. Shampoo hair with affordable and/or borrowed shampoo. Remember how conditioner used to feel.
8. Soap up with affordable and/or borrowed soap. Curse the soap quietly, but vehemently, for your troubled skin. Rinse off.
9. Daydream about people/homework you intended to do last night, as well as upcoming projects/tests. Do you have a quiz today? Are you sure? Are you?
10. If you've daydreamed for too long, pause to remember whether you've completed steps 7 and 8. If you can't remember, repeat them to be certain. Proceed to step 15.
11. You have less than three minutes of warm water. Make it count.
12. Turn on the hot water as low as possible. This will prolong what little remains. Do NOT daydream. Immediately proceed to “lucky” step 13.
13. Shampoo and soap yourself in one go, then rinse everything in one go. Do not condition. Do not shave. Skip to step 15.
14. Since you have class in fifteen minutes, skip the shower. If you have done this three or more times in a row, weigh that option against the option of being late. Your opinion should change slightly with each concurrent shower skip. If you reach six skips, take a cold shower and complain about it the rest of the day to your friends or anyone who complains about anything else. Skip to step 17.
15. Turn off the water and grab the towel from step 1.
16. Dry yourself off BEFORE you step out of the shower. This will prevent unsightly bruises and/or expensive medical bills.
17. Wrap your towel around your waist/head and scramble around your room to find cleanish clothes to wear.
18. Run to class. You are late.
2. Listen for neighbours to see if someone in another apartment is using up your shared hot water. If they are, skip to step 11. If not, continue to step 3.
3. Check to see how hot the hot water is by itself. If hot, move onto step 4. If lukewarm, move onto step 11. If cold, move onto step 14.
4. Turn on the cold water to a comfortable level. Step into the shower. Point the shower head slightly to one side of the shower. This will come into play during steps 5 and 6.
5. Be on constant alert for the sound of a toilet flushing. If you hear one, duck immediately to the side opposite the water stream, out of harm's way. Wait for scalding water to subside. Do NOT readjust water. This will result in unnecessary freezing backlash when the temperature returns to normal.
6. Be on constant alert for the hot water to immediately give out for no reason whatsoever. When this happens, duck immediately to the side opposite the water stream, out of harm's way. Wait for freezing water to subside. Do NOT readjust water. This will result in unnecessary scalding backlash when the temperature returns to normal.
7. Shampoo hair with affordable and/or borrowed shampoo. Remember how conditioner used to feel.
8. Soap up with affordable and/or borrowed soap. Curse the soap quietly, but vehemently, for your troubled skin. Rinse off.
9. Daydream about people/homework you intended to do last night, as well as upcoming projects/tests. Do you have a quiz today? Are you sure? Are you?
10. If you've daydreamed for too long, pause to remember whether you've completed steps 7 and 8. If you can't remember, repeat them to be certain. Proceed to step 15.
11. You have less than three minutes of warm water. Make it count.
12. Turn on the hot water as low as possible. This will prolong what little remains. Do NOT daydream. Immediately proceed to “lucky” step 13.
13. Shampoo and soap yourself in one go, then rinse everything in one go. Do not condition. Do not shave. Skip to step 15.
14. Since you have class in fifteen minutes, skip the shower. If you have done this three or more times in a row, weigh that option against the option of being late. Your opinion should change slightly with each concurrent shower skip. If you reach six skips, take a cold shower and complain about it the rest of the day to your friends or anyone who complains about anything else. Skip to step 17.
15. Turn off the water and grab the towel from step 1.
16. Dry yourself off BEFORE you step out of the shower. This will prevent unsightly bruises and/or expensive medical bills.
17. Wrap your towel around your waist/head and scramble around your room to find cleanish clothes to wear.
18. Run to class. You are late.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
The Boy
I was a young boy at the time. No more than nine or ten, I believe. I lived a few blocks from an abandoned school, McCulloch Middle School, if I remember correctly.
I spent copious amounts of time playing inside there after-hours, messing around and whatnot.
One of the door locks was busted, you see. It was like my own fortress.
Now, it never struck me at the time, but for having been abandoned for such a long time, there was still a lot of junk lying around. Junk without any dust on it. And there were a lot of other little signs that people were in fact still using the school, although I'd never actually seen anyone going in or out, except myself.
I used to doodle on the blackboards, stack textbooks into little piles to sit on, rearrange the school desks into circles and pretend two of them were were boxers in a ring. Normal things that children do when left unattended, I suppose.
But there was one night that was different- one snowy night which I haven't told a single soul about until telling you now.
I was playing army, I believe- marching through one of the hallways on the first floor and giving commands to troops inside my head, when I heard an angry voice around the corner.
“Where's the boy?!”
I froze up, knowing that I had finally gotten caught messing around in this building where I had no business being.
Instead of someone charging determinedly around the corner to arrest me, as my imagination was predicting, I heard a different angry voice pipe up.
“Get out here and give us the boy!”
Then a voice that was too muffled to hear replied. It took me a moment, but I realized I might not be in any trouble at all. However, I was smart enough to know that if I kept standing in the middle of the hallway like a bullfrog in a flashlight beam, I would indeed be in trouble very soon. So, I pulled up against the wall, and cautiously peeked around the corner.
I wasn't prepared for what I saw, let me tell you.
In a building where I'd never seen so much as my own reflection before, now almost a dozen men and women were angrily buzzing outside an office door, shoving on it occasionally and trying to bust it open. To make things even more surreal, most of the men held guns.
Now, even if I hadn't been playing army and imagining people being shot left and right, the sight of those real guns would have turned my blood just as quickly to ice.
I pulled my head back instinctively, imagining they were already shooting at me. It was immediately apparent to me that if this angry mob was out looking for little boys, I needed to find a safer place to listen from.
Having played in this building for countless months, I knew some of the classrooms had doors to both hallways, so I started checking for one that was open in the safe hallway on the opposite side of the building.
I found an unlocked door door on my third or fourth try, and as I shut it quietly behind me and made my way nearer to the commotion, it sounded like things were escalating quickly. I put my ear on the closed door connecting to the dangerous hallway and listened.
“If you don't come out here this instant, so help me, I'm gonna shoot this damn door right off its hinges!”
Now I could finally make out the voice from inside the teacher's office. The door I was listening at was right opposite the door where all the action was taking place, you understand.
“It won't do you any good. The door's been sealed.”
The voice in the classroom sounded afraid. It wasn't angry like the voices of the mob, which suddenly erupted in a chorus of hatred.
“How could you put a monster like that in the same classroom with my little girl?!”
“Yeah! He oughta be locked away where he can't do anyone any harm.”
“Or destroyed! For his own good! For the safety of everyone!”
This last line was met with several cheers.
The voice in the office wavered a bit in his reply.
“You don't understand. There's nothing I can do. I have to help the boy try to live a normal life. I have to.”
“You had your chance. I'm comin' in there.”
With these words, a shot rang out, followed immediately by screams and another eruption from the crowd.
“What happened?!”
“The bullet bounced right off the damn wood!”
“Is everyone ok?!”
“How could that happen?”
The voice from inside the office wavered a bit now.
“I told you, the door's been sealed. It won't open unless I break the seal first. There's nothing you can do.”
“Well, we'll see how good that seal is when the whole damn school is burning down around it!”
“Yeah, open up!”
“The boy is very sad. He says no one needs to get hurt.”
“Yeah? Tell that to my son. He got chunks of his arm torn out the last time that kid in there had himself a tantrum!”
There was a brief silence, and the man in the office said something that to this day, still wakes me up ringing in my ears.
“If you don't leave now, the boy's going to kill you.”
There was a tense silence, then he finished.
“All of you.”
This seemed to have quite an effect on the crowd for a moment, but one of the braver, or stupider, men finally spoke up and re-envigorated their efforts.
“What's he gonna do? Make us all explode? Shoot us with our own guns? Poison us?!”
At this sentence, the mob and I parted ways.
As they re-doubled their efforts to get into that office, I turned on my heels and took off.
I'd heard enough horror stories from my father about the poison gases in the war trenches, and even though I had no idea what was going to happen, I wasn't going to stick around to see firsthand.
I headed straight for the end of the hallway and almost flew up the three flights of stairs, imagining poison gas and bullets coming up behind me; imagining death itself chasing me.
I went all the way to the top of the stairs, and out onto the roof, where it was still snowing, softly. Then, I shut the heavy door behind me and kicked a nearby wedge underneath it to keep back whatever was coming. Not turning away, I backed up as far from the door as possible, and found myself at the edge of the roof, overlooking the street. I think it was right then that I realized I was crying.
I wiped my tears away and stared unblinkingly forward, but nothing came out of that door. Instead, down behind me, the front doors of the school opened up and everyone in the mob walked calmly out one after another in a single-file line.
Then one by one, they collapsed out into the fresh snow. Some sat down first and fell over, some lay down on their backs gently, and some completely slumped down mid-walk into a crumpled heap.
From the few that were looking up towards the snowing sky, towards me, I could tell they were dead.
And I knew in my stomach that that boy had killed them, somehow.
It was like he just... put sleep into them, and never took it back out.
I spent copious amounts of time playing inside there after-hours, messing around and whatnot.
One of the door locks was busted, you see. It was like my own fortress.
Now, it never struck me at the time, but for having been abandoned for such a long time, there was still a lot of junk lying around. Junk without any dust on it. And there were a lot of other little signs that people were in fact still using the school, although I'd never actually seen anyone going in or out, except myself.
I used to doodle on the blackboards, stack textbooks into little piles to sit on, rearrange the school desks into circles and pretend two of them were were boxers in a ring. Normal things that children do when left unattended, I suppose.
But there was one night that was different- one snowy night which I haven't told a single soul about until telling you now.
I was playing army, I believe- marching through one of the hallways on the first floor and giving commands to troops inside my head, when I heard an angry voice around the corner.
“Where's the boy?!”
I froze up, knowing that I had finally gotten caught messing around in this building where I had no business being.
Instead of someone charging determinedly around the corner to arrest me, as my imagination was predicting, I heard a different angry voice pipe up.
“Get out here and give us the boy!”
Then a voice that was too muffled to hear replied. It took me a moment, but I realized I might not be in any trouble at all. However, I was smart enough to know that if I kept standing in the middle of the hallway like a bullfrog in a flashlight beam, I would indeed be in trouble very soon. So, I pulled up against the wall, and cautiously peeked around the corner.
I wasn't prepared for what I saw, let me tell you.
In a building where I'd never seen so much as my own reflection before, now almost a dozen men and women were angrily buzzing outside an office door, shoving on it occasionally and trying to bust it open. To make things even more surreal, most of the men held guns.
Now, even if I hadn't been playing army and imagining people being shot left and right, the sight of those real guns would have turned my blood just as quickly to ice.
I pulled my head back instinctively, imagining they were already shooting at me. It was immediately apparent to me that if this angry mob was out looking for little boys, I needed to find a safer place to listen from.
Having played in this building for countless months, I knew some of the classrooms had doors to both hallways, so I started checking for one that was open in the safe hallway on the opposite side of the building.
I found an unlocked door door on my third or fourth try, and as I shut it quietly behind me and made my way nearer to the commotion, it sounded like things were escalating quickly. I put my ear on the closed door connecting to the dangerous hallway and listened.
“If you don't come out here this instant, so help me, I'm gonna shoot this damn door right off its hinges!”
Now I could finally make out the voice from inside the teacher's office. The door I was listening at was right opposite the door where all the action was taking place, you understand.
“It won't do you any good. The door's been sealed.”
The voice in the classroom sounded afraid. It wasn't angry like the voices of the mob, which suddenly erupted in a chorus of hatred.
“How could you put a monster like that in the same classroom with my little girl?!”
“Yeah! He oughta be locked away where he can't do anyone any harm.”
“Or destroyed! For his own good! For the safety of everyone!”
This last line was met with several cheers.
The voice in the office wavered a bit in his reply.
“You don't understand. There's nothing I can do. I have to help the boy try to live a normal life. I have to.”
“You had your chance. I'm comin' in there.”
With these words, a shot rang out, followed immediately by screams and another eruption from the crowd.
“What happened?!”
“The bullet bounced right off the damn wood!”
“Is everyone ok?!”
“How could that happen?”
The voice from inside the office wavered a bit now.
“I told you, the door's been sealed. It won't open unless I break the seal first. There's nothing you can do.”
“Well, we'll see how good that seal is when the whole damn school is burning down around it!”
“Yeah, open up!”
“The boy is very sad. He says no one needs to get hurt.”
“Yeah? Tell that to my son. He got chunks of his arm torn out the last time that kid in there had himself a tantrum!”
There was a brief silence, and the man in the office said something that to this day, still wakes me up ringing in my ears.
“If you don't leave now, the boy's going to kill you.”
There was a tense silence, then he finished.
“All of you.”
This seemed to have quite an effect on the crowd for a moment, but one of the braver, or stupider, men finally spoke up and re-envigorated their efforts.
“What's he gonna do? Make us all explode? Shoot us with our own guns? Poison us?!”
At this sentence, the mob and I parted ways.
As they re-doubled their efforts to get into that office, I turned on my heels and took off.
I'd heard enough horror stories from my father about the poison gases in the war trenches, and even though I had no idea what was going to happen, I wasn't going to stick around to see firsthand.
I headed straight for the end of the hallway and almost flew up the three flights of stairs, imagining poison gas and bullets coming up behind me; imagining death itself chasing me.
I went all the way to the top of the stairs, and out onto the roof, where it was still snowing, softly. Then, I shut the heavy door behind me and kicked a nearby wedge underneath it to keep back whatever was coming. Not turning away, I backed up as far from the door as possible, and found myself at the edge of the roof, overlooking the street. I think it was right then that I realized I was crying.
I wiped my tears away and stared unblinkingly forward, but nothing came out of that door. Instead, down behind me, the front doors of the school opened up and everyone in the mob walked calmly out one after another in a single-file line.
Then one by one, they collapsed out into the fresh snow. Some sat down first and fell over, some lay down on their backs gently, and some completely slumped down mid-walk into a crumpled heap.
From the few that were looking up towards the snowing sky, towards me, I could tell they were dead.
And I knew in my stomach that that boy had killed them, somehow.
It was like he just... put sleep into them, and never took it back out.
Monday, August 23, 2010
The Ring Culture of Nanah'd
Proof is a strange concept. Evidence can be lost. The senses can be deceiving and unreliable, even among groups of dissimilar individuals, each witnessing the same event. Ultimately, proof is individualistic. It requires nothing of the individual who experiences it, and provides nothing in return.
Aside from hypothetical conjecture, every human has experienced an intimate knowledge of something that is very real for them, that they in turn are being challenged to explain to others, to convince them or convert them, of that something's reality. Why is this important? Because I intend to relay my own personal experience- something very real for me, because it occurred to me. But, I will begin at the beginning, before I entered the picture.
There once was a key that opened a box. This key and this box may still currently exist, but if so, they are lost so far as tangible proof is concerned. I am of the opinion that they must have at least existed at one point in time, because of the story and it's relation to my experience. The story involves a ring. I saw the ring. Therefore, I believe in the ring. Subsequently, I also now believe in the story of the ring.
The story of the ring is, in my mind, more comparable to the Greek myths than the fables of the Brothers Grimm, in that there is only one variation of the story. Whether other variations have been lost throughout time is still a matter of contention and conjecture for both Greek mythology and the story of the ring. The importance lies in there being but a sole surviving variation which, in itself, lends a certain credence to the story, improbable as it may seem. There is also an honesty imparted from the tale's simplicity. Although to be fair, much can be said about the veracity of any story with an abundance of detail, the minutiae locking itself more firmly in the land of reality than in the simplistic dimension of fairy tales. But that debate is for another time.
The story is very short and goes exactly this way:
There once was a key that opened a box. Inside the box, there was a ring. The ring was no ordinary ring.
That is the entirety. The story itself is beautiful in that it follows no successful structure. It has no beginning, no middle, and no end. No protagonist, no climax, no struggle. One may make the argument that it is entirely symbolic or metaphorical in nature, and yet having nothing in the story for juxtaposition, and no historical insight into context, this is a rather weak argument. Upon analyzing for a deeper meaning than mere structure, one discovers that the mystery of the story lies not in the existence or nonexistence of the ring, but in what makes the ring “no ordinary ring”. It is my firm opinion that, despite what scholars may posit, this mystery is the true reason the story has been passed through the generations, and not the beautiful simplicity of the story's structure.
Hypothetical debates aside, there are also tales of those who have experienced the ring's physical presence and tangible effects. However, there has been no conclusive, public proof so as to belie the true characteristics or powers of the ring. I am among the quantum of living men who have experienced the effects of the ring firsthand, but I must say, I am more concerned with, indeed fascinated by, the cultural history that once surrounded the ring than I am the actual ring itself.
The ring grants its wearer immortality. Gaining this knowledge and power is typically where most contemporary men who wear the ring stop their investigation. But I must contend that, being a wonderful distraction, this power (or the means of its function) is not nearly as intriguing to me as the effects of this power, and its properties of everlasting life as the center of the culture of Nanah'd.
Having access to everlasting life, I have been able to gather, if I may say so, an impressive amount of data. But even with my extensive knowledge, and the combined efforts of my colleagues, it was never ascertained as to whether Nanah'd was the actual “birthplace” of the ring itself, or merely the one time in history the ring and its power were centerpiece to an entire culture; spawning traditions, rituals, and other such common cultural phenomena.
This dearth of knowledge is mostly due to the inception of Nanah'd's record-keeping roughly two hundred and forty-three years after the public announcement/discovery of the ring, which was subsequently labeled the “Ring of Nanah'd”. No other proper name has ever been bestowed upon the ring, and since the town's destruction, it has simply been referred to as “the ring” or “the ring of the story”. The details of Nanah'd's destruction are also unclear. It appears through most texts to have been a rather quick natural disaster; a flood, volcanic eruption, earthquake, or the like. Pre-ring traditions and post-destruction period aside, the historians of Nanah'd kept very detailed accounts of the several hundred years the ring was at the heart of Nanah'd's culture, many of which, I've been fortunate enough to uncover.
The ring, being an article of jewelry, was obviously limited in its applications. It follows then, that Nanah'd was ruled as a monarchy. Again, whether this was the case before the ring's introduction, or after the ring's presence offered no conceivable alternative, is of course, both pure speculation and irrelevant. In their early accounts, specifically Nanah'd Ahu Guanta (roughly translated as “Nanah'd, The Birth”), historians record only in that there was much bloodshed in the initial struggle to obtain the ring's power. However, it is noted that this violence quickly dissipated, as no harm could come to the ring's wearer. Fighting for the ring, then, was ultimately of no use. With this knowledge, what is truly remarkable is that this ring which granted immortality still passed from one owner to the next, and with it, the leadership of Nanah'd. Learning of this, I conjectured that the ring might have in some instances been removed peacefully, but without the owner's consent; say, during sleep. After all, a single ring cannot change size and shape to fit each owner accordingly, so by simple mathematical probability, it can be stated that the ring must have fit a bit too loosely on a few of the rulers of Nanah'd (easy removal during unconsciousness), and a bit too snugly on a few rulers (particularly difficult removal during sleep). The next work I found however, Bruc Nanah'd Mehai Jedorn (roughly translated as “Nanah'd, Day-to-day Stories”), specifically recounted that the ring was willingly given each and every time from the old ruler to the new ruler. A tradition,which of course would only come to be reinforced and engendered as time went on. This tradition is spectacular for two reasons; one- the reigns of leadership fluctuate wildly in their durations; and two- this tradition was the single most important aspect in shaping the culture of Nanah'd .
The first point is perhaps not as intriguing as the second now that the culture of Nanah'd is dead; however, had the culture survived, it would have surely been the most interesting from a psychologically investigative point of inquiry. The terms of rulership varied wildly in their duration. No tradition was ever put in place as to a minimum or maximum length of a particular monarchy. This again points to the purity of the system and lends itself to a few interesting cases. The first I can recall is a husband and wife who ruled simultaneously (informally, of course), by trading the ring between each other and thus playing to their differing strengths as natural leaders for any given situation. This union was the only time in Nanah'd's recorded history an informal partnership was observed, and though it was seemingly successful, its rarity in success is mirrored in the infancy of the United States of America, when it was highly likely for the president and the vice-president to come from different political parties. There are also a few cases of human weakness, answering questions that would otherwise have remained. For instance, one of the rulers gave the ring to his mother, who he learned had passed away a few hours previously. Controversial as this decision was, it was allowed by the society of Nanah'd. The mother reportedly “ruled” from her bed for less than a week's time before leadership was transferred back to the son. The details of how this transfer took place are unknown. Then there is the case of a man who teased the promise of a few hours with the ring to whomsoever would bed him. This of course famously ended when one of the women, Mi'irst Klobs'b, refused to give the ring back, instead becoming arguably the most wise and successful ruler of the entire history of Nanah'd. Yet, even these inescapable imperfections further prove that the system worked correctly more often than not.
The second point seems on the surface to be obvious, but I will explain precisely why this cultural phenomenon is so remarkable as a unique structure in history. The records show the ring was passed as often to successors unrelated by blood as it was to familial relations. This is but a symptom of something larger and more remarkable: unadulterated positive incentive. Pure incentive to become a model citizen in order that one might obtain a tangible reward, this is in stark contrast to most civilization's intangible utilization of religion as an underlying motivation for good behaviour and social pacification. Another detail of note, in regards to the purity of the system: age was of no consequence, as even the very eldest and physically feeblest could be, and in a few cases were, given the chance to rule, the ring rendering their proximity to death inconsequential. Younger citizens were rarely offered the opportunity, but there is at least one account of one of the more experimental rulers passing his throne to an eight-year old child, for the child's “lack of corruption” and “ineffable curiosity”. Of course, this is not the first time in history a child has ruled. The Dalai Llama and Tutankhamen both come readily to mind as examples, although their success as leaders is still openly debated, whereas the rulership of this child, Brug A'ly'aff by name, was unanimously recorded as a very prosperous time for Nanah'd. It must also be noted that Brug A'ly'aff held one of the longest periods of leadership before he gave up the throne to live modestly on the outskirts of the town so his body could finally catch up to the level of maturity his mind had reached many decades earlier. From birth to death, anyone was eligible to rule over Nanah'd, provided they showed great enough potential. The power of such an idea put into practice! Every citizen modeling themselves to the society's communal ideal of perfection. I feel also that now is the right time to point out that it is surely one thing to debate the pros and cons of immortality, and the appeal or lack of desire for it hypothetically, but it is certainly quite another to avoid the desire and curiosity once it is an actual opportunity in practice with a very real chance to obtain it; a desire most definitely made more enticing when the means were as simple as being an ethical and moral person. It is noted that there were dissenters, as there always are, who considered the rulership an arbitrary and imperfect lottery, dependent on one person's opinion and range of knowledge; but these people were recorded as few and far between. As for the king's network of informants, it reportedly numbered in the hundreds of thousands, and was constantly growing; all on a volunteer basis, as the act of volunteering to report good deeds was seen in and of itself, a good deed. This is but one example of the layering of Nanah'd's pure incentive, and has yet to be found in any culture before or since. At this point, I must also settle a matter of personal contention- over the years, there have been discussions about the definition of “pure incentive” in regards to a tangible reward as opposed to “being good for good's sake”. These discussions, if handled correctly, are very quickly thrown out, as it can be demonstrated soundly and empirically that no one in his/her right mind will choose an intangible reward over a tangible reward, if they are comparable. Indeed, this is arguably the reason the ring supplanted any form of religion in Nanah'd; as the greatest intangible incentive religion has to offer was a tangible opportunity available to every citizen, provided they followed their naturally-inherent morality and code of ethics.
I'm sure that relaying my findings and thoughts to you will in no way provide the verisimilitude of experiencing the ring itself, but perhaps I have increased your understanding or sparked in you some small curiosity; and curiosity is the first step on the path to empirical, individualistic truth.
Aside from hypothetical conjecture, every human has experienced an intimate knowledge of something that is very real for them, that they in turn are being challenged to explain to others, to convince them or convert them, of that something's reality. Why is this important? Because I intend to relay my own personal experience- something very real for me, because it occurred to me. But, I will begin at the beginning, before I entered the picture.
There once was a key that opened a box. This key and this box may still currently exist, but if so, they are lost so far as tangible proof is concerned. I am of the opinion that they must have at least existed at one point in time, because of the story and it's relation to my experience. The story involves a ring. I saw the ring. Therefore, I believe in the ring. Subsequently, I also now believe in the story of the ring.
The story of the ring is, in my mind, more comparable to the Greek myths than the fables of the Brothers Grimm, in that there is only one variation of the story. Whether other variations have been lost throughout time is still a matter of contention and conjecture for both Greek mythology and the story of the ring. The importance lies in there being but a sole surviving variation which, in itself, lends a certain credence to the story, improbable as it may seem. There is also an honesty imparted from the tale's simplicity. Although to be fair, much can be said about the veracity of any story with an abundance of detail, the minutiae locking itself more firmly in the land of reality than in the simplistic dimension of fairy tales. But that debate is for another time.
The story is very short and goes exactly this way:
There once was a key that opened a box. Inside the box, there was a ring. The ring was no ordinary ring.
That is the entirety. The story itself is beautiful in that it follows no successful structure. It has no beginning, no middle, and no end. No protagonist, no climax, no struggle. One may make the argument that it is entirely symbolic or metaphorical in nature, and yet having nothing in the story for juxtaposition, and no historical insight into context, this is a rather weak argument. Upon analyzing for a deeper meaning than mere structure, one discovers that the mystery of the story lies not in the existence or nonexistence of the ring, but in what makes the ring “no ordinary ring”. It is my firm opinion that, despite what scholars may posit, this mystery is the true reason the story has been passed through the generations, and not the beautiful simplicity of the story's structure.
Hypothetical debates aside, there are also tales of those who have experienced the ring's physical presence and tangible effects. However, there has been no conclusive, public proof so as to belie the true characteristics or powers of the ring. I am among the quantum of living men who have experienced the effects of the ring firsthand, but I must say, I am more concerned with, indeed fascinated by, the cultural history that once surrounded the ring than I am the actual ring itself.
The ring grants its wearer immortality. Gaining this knowledge and power is typically where most contemporary men who wear the ring stop their investigation. But I must contend that, being a wonderful distraction, this power (or the means of its function) is not nearly as intriguing to me as the effects of this power, and its properties of everlasting life as the center of the culture of Nanah'd.
Having access to everlasting life, I have been able to gather, if I may say so, an impressive amount of data. But even with my extensive knowledge, and the combined efforts of my colleagues, it was never ascertained as to whether Nanah'd was the actual “birthplace” of the ring itself, or merely the one time in history the ring and its power were centerpiece to an entire culture; spawning traditions, rituals, and other such common cultural phenomena.
This dearth of knowledge is mostly due to the inception of Nanah'd's record-keeping roughly two hundred and forty-three years after the public announcement/discovery of the ring, which was subsequently labeled the “Ring of Nanah'd”. No other proper name has ever been bestowed upon the ring, and since the town's destruction, it has simply been referred to as “the ring” or “the ring of the story”. The details of Nanah'd's destruction are also unclear. It appears through most texts to have been a rather quick natural disaster; a flood, volcanic eruption, earthquake, or the like. Pre-ring traditions and post-destruction period aside, the historians of Nanah'd kept very detailed accounts of the several hundred years the ring was at the heart of Nanah'd's culture, many of which, I've been fortunate enough to uncover.
The ring, being an article of jewelry, was obviously limited in its applications. It follows then, that Nanah'd was ruled as a monarchy. Again, whether this was the case before the ring's introduction, or after the ring's presence offered no conceivable alternative, is of course, both pure speculation and irrelevant. In their early accounts, specifically Nanah'd Ahu Guanta (roughly translated as “Nanah'd, The Birth”), historians record only in that there was much bloodshed in the initial struggle to obtain the ring's power. However, it is noted that this violence quickly dissipated, as no harm could come to the ring's wearer. Fighting for the ring, then, was ultimately of no use. With this knowledge, what is truly remarkable is that this ring which granted immortality still passed from one owner to the next, and with it, the leadership of Nanah'd. Learning of this, I conjectured that the ring might have in some instances been removed peacefully, but without the owner's consent; say, during sleep. After all, a single ring cannot change size and shape to fit each owner accordingly, so by simple mathematical probability, it can be stated that the ring must have fit a bit too loosely on a few of the rulers of Nanah'd (easy removal during unconsciousness), and a bit too snugly on a few rulers (particularly difficult removal during sleep). The next work I found however, Bruc Nanah'd Mehai Jedorn (roughly translated as “Nanah'd, Day-to-day Stories”), specifically recounted that the ring was willingly given each and every time from the old ruler to the new ruler. A tradition,which of course would only come to be reinforced and engendered as time went on. This tradition is spectacular for two reasons; one- the reigns of leadership fluctuate wildly in their durations; and two- this tradition was the single most important aspect in shaping the culture of Nanah'd .
The first point is perhaps not as intriguing as the second now that the culture of Nanah'd is dead; however, had the culture survived, it would have surely been the most interesting from a psychologically investigative point of inquiry. The terms of rulership varied wildly in their duration. No tradition was ever put in place as to a minimum or maximum length of a particular monarchy. This again points to the purity of the system and lends itself to a few interesting cases. The first I can recall is a husband and wife who ruled simultaneously (informally, of course), by trading the ring between each other and thus playing to their differing strengths as natural leaders for any given situation. This union was the only time in Nanah'd's recorded history an informal partnership was observed, and though it was seemingly successful, its rarity in success is mirrored in the infancy of the United States of America, when it was highly likely for the president and the vice-president to come from different political parties. There are also a few cases of human weakness, answering questions that would otherwise have remained. For instance, one of the rulers gave the ring to his mother, who he learned had passed away a few hours previously. Controversial as this decision was, it was allowed by the society of Nanah'd. The mother reportedly “ruled” from her bed for less than a week's time before leadership was transferred back to the son. The details of how this transfer took place are unknown. Then there is the case of a man who teased the promise of a few hours with the ring to whomsoever would bed him. This of course famously ended when one of the women, Mi'irst Klobs'b, refused to give the ring back, instead becoming arguably the most wise and successful ruler of the entire history of Nanah'd. Yet, even these inescapable imperfections further prove that the system worked correctly more often than not.
The second point seems on the surface to be obvious, but I will explain precisely why this cultural phenomenon is so remarkable as a unique structure in history. The records show the ring was passed as often to successors unrelated by blood as it was to familial relations. This is but a symptom of something larger and more remarkable: unadulterated positive incentive. Pure incentive to become a model citizen in order that one might obtain a tangible reward, this is in stark contrast to most civilization's intangible utilization of religion as an underlying motivation for good behaviour and social pacification. Another detail of note, in regards to the purity of the system: age was of no consequence, as even the very eldest and physically feeblest could be, and in a few cases were, given the chance to rule, the ring rendering their proximity to death inconsequential. Younger citizens were rarely offered the opportunity, but there is at least one account of one of the more experimental rulers passing his throne to an eight-year old child, for the child's “lack of corruption” and “ineffable curiosity”. Of course, this is not the first time in history a child has ruled. The Dalai Llama and Tutankhamen both come readily to mind as examples, although their success as leaders is still openly debated, whereas the rulership of this child, Brug A'ly'aff by name, was unanimously recorded as a very prosperous time for Nanah'd. It must also be noted that Brug A'ly'aff held one of the longest periods of leadership before he gave up the throne to live modestly on the outskirts of the town so his body could finally catch up to the level of maturity his mind had reached many decades earlier. From birth to death, anyone was eligible to rule over Nanah'd, provided they showed great enough potential. The power of such an idea put into practice! Every citizen modeling themselves to the society's communal ideal of perfection. I feel also that now is the right time to point out that it is surely one thing to debate the pros and cons of immortality, and the appeal or lack of desire for it hypothetically, but it is certainly quite another to avoid the desire and curiosity once it is an actual opportunity in practice with a very real chance to obtain it; a desire most definitely made more enticing when the means were as simple as being an ethical and moral person. It is noted that there were dissenters, as there always are, who considered the rulership an arbitrary and imperfect lottery, dependent on one person's opinion and range of knowledge; but these people were recorded as few and far between. As for the king's network of informants, it reportedly numbered in the hundreds of thousands, and was constantly growing; all on a volunteer basis, as the act of volunteering to report good deeds was seen in and of itself, a good deed. This is but one example of the layering of Nanah'd's pure incentive, and has yet to be found in any culture before or since. At this point, I must also settle a matter of personal contention- over the years, there have been discussions about the definition of “pure incentive” in regards to a tangible reward as opposed to “being good for good's sake”. These discussions, if handled correctly, are very quickly thrown out, as it can be demonstrated soundly and empirically that no one in his/her right mind will choose an intangible reward over a tangible reward, if they are comparable. Indeed, this is arguably the reason the ring supplanted any form of religion in Nanah'd; as the greatest intangible incentive religion has to offer was a tangible opportunity available to every citizen, provided they followed their naturally-inherent morality and code of ethics.
I'm sure that relaying my findings and thoughts to you will in no way provide the verisimilitude of experiencing the ring itself, but perhaps I have increased your understanding or sparked in you some small curiosity; and curiosity is the first step on the path to empirical, individualistic truth.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Swish
She twirls in front of you.
You catch just enough of her face to see her huge smile.
You want to go up to her. Dance with her. Go on.
Her beautiful blue dress splashes out around her as she moves.
Hair is beautiful waves, rolling as she swishes her head to the rhythm.
You don't have to say anything to her. Just go dance with her. Go on.
She's having such a good time. You can be a part of that. She can remember you.
A man comes up to her. He is taller than you. His suit is better than yours. His hair is nice.
He whispers into her ear. Her smile fades slightly, but won't let go just yet.
He motions away. Outside. Somewhere that is not right here, dancing with friends.
She shakes her head. He leaves her.
She resumes dancing. Almost as enthusiastically as before.
He moves through the crowd of peers. To more sharply-dressed, beautiful men.
He says something to them.
The three of them look bored.
One checks his watch.
You look back at the girl. You're on her side. This is what's important. Right now. Tonight. Here.
The three handsome men leave.
The girl hasn't noticed. She is laughing because her friend is wiggling her butt like a music video.
The girl wiggles her butt too.
She turns red from laughing, expressing herself. Enjoying her life.
You can be a part of her life.
All you have to do is go up to her. Just smile with her. Laugh with her. Be yourself.
If you don't dance with her, you will remember this night, these details, for the rest of your life.
You will always regret this moment if you don't act. There's no reason not to.
Just go.
You catch just enough of her face to see her huge smile.
You want to go up to her. Dance with her. Go on.
Her beautiful blue dress splashes out around her as she moves.
Hair is beautiful waves, rolling as she swishes her head to the rhythm.
You don't have to say anything to her. Just go dance with her. Go on.
She's having such a good time. You can be a part of that. She can remember you.
A man comes up to her. He is taller than you. His suit is better than yours. His hair is nice.
He whispers into her ear. Her smile fades slightly, but won't let go just yet.
He motions away. Outside. Somewhere that is not right here, dancing with friends.
She shakes her head. He leaves her.
She resumes dancing. Almost as enthusiastically as before.
He moves through the crowd of peers. To more sharply-dressed, beautiful men.
He says something to them.
The three of them look bored.
One checks his watch.
You look back at the girl. You're on her side. This is what's important. Right now. Tonight. Here.
The three handsome men leave.
The girl hasn't noticed. She is laughing because her friend is wiggling her butt like a music video.
The girl wiggles her butt too.
She turns red from laughing, expressing herself. Enjoying her life.
You can be a part of her life.
All you have to do is go up to her. Just smile with her. Laugh with her. Be yourself.
If you don't dance with her, you will remember this night, these details, for the rest of your life.
You will always regret this moment if you don't act. There's no reason not to.
Just go.
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