dear kobo sorry,,,sorry for lying,,,,,
but i know something of latin all the same,,,,,,if the tomatoes are saying mango mango mango i do not think they can be speaking latin,,,,
mango is the latin word for dealer,,,, no,,, i think they are more likely speaking tamil,,,,,in tamil mango is the word for a mango,,,,,
yes i have a story for you kobo it is about another beach another day a very hot day ,,,,,i was at noarlunga i was at the cliff end where the river meets the sea,,,,sitting in the water,,,,
some young humans were sitting in the water in a row,,,,, they were looking at a boy who was standing half way up the cliff on a ledge,,,,,jump they called out jump,,,,, he didn't want to then he did,,,,,,kersplash,,,, easy!!! a wussy boy ,,,,,
there were lots of humans in the river playing ,,,,,some were very white,,,, two were floating on inflatable shoes,,,, the name of the inflatable shoes was havaianas,,,,,, it looked so comfy to be floating on the havaianas,,,, the girl's was pink with flowers and the boy's was like the australian flag,,,,,,,everyone was laughing laughing,,,,,no one minded that the river was much dirtier than the sea,,,,
some big men climbed the cliff and jumped in from a higher ledge,,,, to do better than the boys,,,,some girls were looking,,,,not everyone was looking,,,,
do you like it kobo???
kobo,,,,,,no i do not think i like your stephen fry book,,,,,,i don't like funny things or universities,,,,,i am a lobster,,,,,,hurry up and finish it and give it to your sister,,,,, that reminds me kobo,,,
how is it you have a sister???? you are a fossilised clam,,,,of course there is a logical answer,,, please tell your good friend,,,,,
ageless xx
Monday, January 31, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
The Fry Chronicles
dear ageless how immmmpatient you are,
no i was not scared i have been trying to learn the language of tommmmatoes and i think i have discovered sommething this is what it is:
the tommatoes only have one word they say it all the timmme and what they say is manngo mmango mmango mmango, this leads mme to deduce they are speaking latin what do you think ageless?
although i note that you were lying about your knowing of their language.
why did you do that ageless??? we are friends we should not lie.
i like part two of your story of the japanese girls, do you think the answer to the mmmmystery
is that they left the beach to change their clothes , and that you simmply didn't see themmm go?
but it doesn't mmmatter, it is a most delightful and mmysterious story. have you any mmmore?
i want to tell you a story too, would you like mmme to?
only i can't just now because i ammm reading like the clappers sommething that i don't think you would like, it is the fry chronicles it is about stephen fry the mman who wrote it. he wrote it about himself you would be bored. there is no sand in it no stones or pebbles only stories about cammmmbridge university and the footlights club and his commmmedy career i like it myself i ammm into commmedy and the nammme droppings of english life
i bet you aren't, being a lobster
i have to finish it quick because mmy sister wants it,
therefore byebye for now agelesss, but keep on writing to mmme i always have timme for you my dearest agelesss
your dearest kobo x
no i was not scared i have been trying to learn the language of tommmmatoes and i think i have discovered sommething this is what it is:
the tommatoes only have one word they say it all the timmme and what they say is manngo mmango mmango mmango, this leads mme to deduce they are speaking latin what do you think ageless?
although i note that you were lying about your knowing of their language.
why did you do that ageless??? we are friends we should not lie.
i like part two of your story of the japanese girls, do you think the answer to the mmmmystery
is that they left the beach to change their clothes , and that you simmply didn't see themmm go?
but it doesn't mmmatter, it is a most delightful and mmysterious story. have you any mmmore?
i want to tell you a story too, would you like mmme to?
only i can't just now because i ammm reading like the clappers sommething that i don't think you would like, it is the fry chronicles it is about stephen fry the mman who wrote it. he wrote it about himself you would be bored. there is no sand in it no stones or pebbles only stories about cammmmbridge university and the footlights club and his commmmedy career i like it myself i ammm into commmedy and the nammme droppings of english life
i bet you aren't, being a lobster
i have to finish it quick because mmy sister wants it,
therefore byebye for now agelesss, but keep on writing to mmme i always have timme for you my dearest agelesss
your dearest kobo x
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Where Are You Kobo?
dear kobo why have you not answered me why,,,, i mean why not????
did i make you scared about the tomato bugs i worry that i did,,,,,
it was just a joke i do not know their language i don't know anything,,,,,tomato bugs,,,,,they are no relative of mine,,,,,,
it's just the colour,,,,,,,, and the segmentation,,,,,,but,,,,,no,,,,,i think they are maggots,,,,,keep away from them,,,,, that's all,,,,,,
let me go on with my story,,,,,,
after the two japanese girls had reunited with their daddy-brother and their mummy in the cotton bonnet,,, i stopped looking in their direction,,,,,,,,,for a moment,,,,
when i looked again the girls had disappeared,,,,,the mummy and the daddy-brother were walking towards the water talking,,,,,i scanned the beach my eyes on stalks i scanned the water the two girls were not in the water,,,,, not swimming ,,,,,,
moments later the two girls came on to the beach from the sand dune trail for a third time,,,, although to my knowledge they had not gone off,,,,
now they were dressed identically in shorts and cutoff black tops double crisscrossed at the back,,,,,,
this was and is a mystery to me,,,,,,,
do you like it kobo, do you???? answer me !!!! answer your friend
ageless
did i make you scared about the tomato bugs i worry that i did,,,,,
it was just a joke i do not know their language i don't know anything,,,,,tomato bugs,,,,,they are no relative of mine,,,,,,
it's just the colour,,,,,,,, and the segmentation,,,,,,but,,,,,no,,,,,i think they are maggots,,,,,keep away from them,,,,, that's all,,,,,,
let me go on with my story,,,,,,
after the two japanese girls had reunited with their daddy-brother and their mummy in the cotton bonnet,,, i stopped looking in their direction,,,,,,,,,for a moment,,,,
when i looked again the girls had disappeared,,,,,the mummy and the daddy-brother were walking towards the water talking,,,,,i scanned the beach my eyes on stalks i scanned the water the two girls were not in the water,,,,, not swimming ,,,,,,
moments later the two girls came on to the beach from the sand dune trail for a third time,,,, although to my knowledge they had not gone off,,,,
now they were dressed identically in shorts and cutoff black tops double crisscrossed at the back,,,,,,
this was and is a mystery to me,,,,,,,
do you like it kobo, do you???? answer me !!!! answer your friend
ageless
Friday, January 28, 2011
Kisskisskiss
dear kobo dear kobo dear,,,,,,i am very glad you liked my story,,,,,but i'm sorry you're surrounded by tomatoes,,,,,,
first things first however,,, clikclik,,,,let me answer what you asked me,,,,yes it is really me i finished moulting i am really HARD,,,,,,don't get too excited,,,,,,haha that is what you said to me remember,,,,,don't get too excited,,,,
secondly yes i thought the man might be their daddy but then,,,,,he looked a bit too young,,,,perhaps he was their brother,,,,,,,perhaps he was the brother of the one who hugged him,,,,,, OR,,,,,perhaps he was the brother of the other one,,,,that was what i wondered,,,,,
the woman was the mother she wore a cotton bonnet like a mother on the beach,,,,,,,
would you like to know what happened next,,,,because that was not the end of the story,,,,,,,would you???? i will tell you if you want me to,,,,,,
this feels like before, when you told me the story of the sand,,,,,,bit by bit,,,,,it was exciting,,,,
but now i want to write a thirdly,,,,,, THIRDLY,,,,,,this is going to be about tomatoes,,,,,,,,i was thinking you know that tomatoes cannot speak,,,,,,,and since you cannot see,,,,dear kobo,,,,,it may be there are tomato bugs inside the tomatoes and it is they who chatter,,,,,,i know something of tomato bugs,,,,,being a lobster,,,,,,,they are a kind of relative,,,,,,,haha you are saying,,,,, but no,,,stop laughing,,,,,
they are soft and fat and segmented, and where the segments join they are the colour of tomatoes,,,,,,what a pity you cannot look and see,,,,, but i can speak their language,,,,although not well,,,,would you like me to teach you a few words???
let me know, dear kobo,,,,, let me,,,,,,,,,,
your friend ageless,,,,kisskisskiss
first things first however,,, clikclik,,,,let me answer what you asked me,,,,yes it is really me i finished moulting i am really HARD,,,,,,don't get too excited,,,,,,haha that is what you said to me remember,,,,,don't get too excited,,,,
secondly yes i thought the man might be their daddy but then,,,,,he looked a bit too young,,,,perhaps he was their brother,,,,,,,perhaps he was the brother of the one who hugged him,,,,,, OR,,,,,perhaps he was the brother of the other one,,,,that was what i wondered,,,,,
the woman was the mother she wore a cotton bonnet like a mother on the beach,,,,,,,
would you like to know what happened next,,,,because that was not the end of the story,,,,,,,would you???? i will tell you if you want me to,,,,,,
this feels like before, when you told me the story of the sand,,,,,,bit by bit,,,,,it was exciting,,,,
but now i want to write a thirdly,,,,,, THIRDLY,,,,,,this is going to be about tomatoes,,,,,,,,i was thinking you know that tomatoes cannot speak,,,,,,,and since you cannot see,,,,dear kobo,,,,,it may be there are tomato bugs inside the tomatoes and it is they who chatter,,,,,,i know something of tomato bugs,,,,,being a lobster,,,,,,,they are a kind of relative,,,,,,,haha you are saying,,,,, but no,,,stop laughing,,,,,
they are soft and fat and segmented, and where the segments join they are the colour of tomatoes,,,,,,what a pity you cannot look and see,,,,, but i can speak their language,,,,although not well,,,,would you like me to teach you a few words???
let me know, dear kobo,,,,, let me,,,,,,,,,,
your friend ageless,,,,kisskisskiss
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Surrounded by Tommmatoes
dear ageless, is it really you? and you have finished mmmoulting, and you can write to mme again oh! i ammmm so happy, of course i knew it was you right away fromm all your commmmmas.
how thoughtful of you to start by telling me a story. i liked your story. you remmmmembered i like japanese stories was the mman their daddy do you think?
how dull mmmy life has been waiting for you to finish mmoulting, i ammm still here on the window sill. that is the same but it's not quite the same it's crowded now.
i amm surrounded by tommmatoes, i don't know why. you know i cannot see from inside mmy stone clammmshell. i have never seen a tommmato but they chatter all the time....
would you like to know what they say, ageless, so would i but they don't speak english. i think they are afraid.
i think that frommm one day to another they are not even the samme tommmatoes, i think that is why they are afraid they know they mmmay be spirited away at any mmmommment........i don't care to get involved however.
please write to mmme again and tell mmme mmore stories about the real world where you live, the world of sand and water and flags and girls who spin around mmen like mmmaypoles, how rommmantic the real world is you are so lucky ageless to be in it.
goodbye for now ageless mmmwah, mmmwah, those are two kisses for you from the lips of
your friend kobo
don't get too excited
how thoughtful of you to start by telling me a story. i liked your story. you remmmmembered i like japanese stories was the mman their daddy do you think?
how dull mmmy life has been waiting for you to finish mmoulting, i ammm still here on the window sill. that is the same but it's not quite the same it's crowded now.
i amm surrounded by tommmatoes, i don't know why. you know i cannot see from inside mmy stone clammmshell. i have never seen a tommmato but they chatter all the time....
would you like to know what they say, ageless, so would i but they don't speak english. i think they are afraid.
i think that frommm one day to another they are not even the samme tommmatoes, i think that is why they are afraid they know they mmmay be spirited away at any mmmommment........i don't care to get involved however.
please write to mmme again and tell mmme mmore stories about the real world where you live, the world of sand and water and flags and girls who spin around mmen like mmmaypoles, how rommmantic the real world is you are so lucky ageless to be in it.
goodbye for now ageless mmmwah, mmmwah, those are two kisses for you from the lips of
your friend kobo
don't get too excited
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Australia Day
dear kobo,,,,,,coff, coff,,,,,it's me,,,,,i've finished moulting!!!
clikclikclik,,,, oh let me start again i'm a bit nervous ,,,,,dear kobo,,,do you remember me???
yes i've finished moulting have you forgot your friend ageless,,,, ageless lobster????
i was thinking about you kobo all the time but yesterday i was at the beach,,,, haha you will be laughing,,,,,ha ha you will be saying,,,,he is always at the beach,,,,
i am, but yesterday,,,,,i thought you would like this story,,,,,
i was sitting on the beach just looking,,,,,,there were people everywhere and flags stuck in the sand red white and blue fluttering,,,,,,,
two japanese girls walked on to the beach from the sand hill track,,,,they looked left and right,,,,,they pointed,,,,,
they were thirteen years old i think in human terms,,,,clikclik,,,,when i looked again they were gone,,,,,,
i looked up the same two girls were coming down the sand hill track again looking to left,,,,, clikclik,,,, and to right and pointing,,,, one of them cried out,,,, there!!!!! and they started running,,,,,they ran towards a man and a woman,,,,,the man was laughing,,,,
the man was wearing black shorts and his upper body was white,,,,,,,one of the girls ran straight up to the man and hugged him round the waist and swung around him like a maypole with her two legs off the sand,,,,,,,
i thought about you kobo then,,,,,,,,
please write to me if you remember me i hope you liked my story there was sand in it yes,,,, but it is me who likes sand,,,,,, sorry clik,,,,,,, your friend ageless
clikclikclik,,,, oh let me start again i'm a bit nervous ,,,,,dear kobo,,,do you remember me???
yes i've finished moulting have you forgot your friend ageless,,,, ageless lobster????
i was thinking about you kobo all the time but yesterday i was at the beach,,,, haha you will be laughing,,,,,ha ha you will be saying,,,,he is always at the beach,,,,
i am, but yesterday,,,,,i thought you would like this story,,,,,
i was sitting on the beach just looking,,,,,,there were people everywhere and flags stuck in the sand red white and blue fluttering,,,,,,,
two japanese girls walked on to the beach from the sand hill track,,,,they looked left and right,,,,,they pointed,,,,,
they were thirteen years old i think in human terms,,,,clikclik,,,,when i looked again they were gone,,,,,,
i looked up the same two girls were coming down the sand hill track again looking to left,,,,, clikclik,,,, and to right and pointing,,,, one of them cried out,,,, there!!!!! and they started running,,,,,they ran towards a man and a woman,,,,,the man was laughing,,,,
the man was wearing black shorts and his upper body was white,,,,,,,one of the girls ran straight up to the man and hugged him round the waist and swung around him like a maypole with her two legs off the sand,,,,,,,
i thought about you kobo then,,,,,,,,
please write to me if you remember me i hope you liked my story there was sand in it yes,,,, but it is me who likes sand,,,,,, sorry clik,,,,,,, your friend ageless
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Nothing
Marie is back at the office, telling Belle et Bonne all about the Tour Down Under.
Belle et Bonne: Tell me everything, Marie. Did you meet anyone?
Marie: I met Angel. He was interesting.....at first. He was a Gymnosopher, and he didn't wear any clothes.
Belle et Bonne: Ooh! Was he attractive?
Marie: Yes he was. At first he was very austere, and didn't eat or drink or wear anything, and he answered deep philosophical questions wisely. I actually thought I was in love with him.
Belle et Bonne: What went wrong?
Marie: I realised he always gave the same answer. And he became more and more competitive, wanting to win King of the Mountain and all that whatnot.
Belle et Bonne: Boring! And how was papa?
Marie: Oh, he was his usual self........
The VeloDrone pokes his head around the door.
Belle et Bonne: Oh papa! we were just talking about you.
The VeloDrone: Head butting is NOT cheating, you know!
Marie: Uncle! I never mentioned it!
Belle et Bonne: Papa! were you cheating?
The VeloDrone: Everyone was.
Marie: No they weren't.
Belle et Bonne: Did your Angel do it?
Marie: Yes, both the Gymnosophers did it.
The VeloDrone: We were using our noggins.
Belle et Bonne: How embarrassing. Well I don't suppose you can ever go back to Adelaide again.
The VeloDrone: On the contrary, we are all going back next month for the Fringe!
Le Bon David pops his head round the door.
Belle et Bonne: Uncle David! We're all going to the Adelaide Fringe!
Le Bon David: I heard.
The VeloDrone: What else did you hear?
Le Bon David: Oh nothing, my friend. But...... nothing.
Belle et Bonne: Tell me everything, Marie. Did you meet anyone?
Marie: I met Angel. He was interesting.....at first. He was a Gymnosopher, and he didn't wear any clothes.
Belle et Bonne: Ooh! Was he attractive?
Marie: Yes he was. At first he was very austere, and didn't eat or drink or wear anything, and he answered deep philosophical questions wisely. I actually thought I was in love with him.
Belle et Bonne: What went wrong?
Marie: I realised he always gave the same answer. And he became more and more competitive, wanting to win King of the Mountain and all that whatnot.
Belle et Bonne: Boring! And how was papa?
Marie: Oh, he was his usual self........
The VeloDrone pokes his head around the door.
Belle et Bonne: Oh papa! we were just talking about you.
The VeloDrone: Head butting is NOT cheating, you know!
Marie: Uncle! I never mentioned it!
Belle et Bonne: Papa! were you cheating?
The VeloDrone: Everyone was.
Marie: No they weren't.
Belle et Bonne: Did your Angel do it?
Marie: Yes, both the Gymnosophers did it.
The VeloDrone: We were using our noggins.
Belle et Bonne: How embarrassing. Well I don't suppose you can ever go back to Adelaide again.
The VeloDrone: On the contrary, we are all going back next month for the Fringe!
Le Bon David pops his head round the door.
Belle et Bonne: Uncle David! We're all going to the Adelaide Fringe!
Le Bon David: I heard.
The VeloDrone: What else did you hear?
Le Bon David: Oh nothing, my friend. But...... nothing.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Goodbye to the Tour
The Tour Down Under is over for another year, and it's time for everyone to go home.
The VeloDrone: Well, Gym Ten and Angel, that was most enjoyable.
Gym Ten: I'm glad you think so.
Angel: I would have liked to have been King of the Mountain.
Gym Ten: I would have liked the ochre jersey.
The VeloDrone: You would have had it, but for the scruples of Marie.
Marie: Some things are more important than winning.
The VeloDrone: Of course, of course. Tell me again what they are?
Marie: I've just been chatting with the Premier Mike Rann, and the race organiser Mike Turtur. They're going to ask you to be next year's big drawcard. What do you think of that?
The VeloDrone: Me?
Marie: Yes, I told them who you were.
Angel: Why? Who is he?
Marie: He's The VeloDrone, also known as the great philosopher Voltaire. I thought you knew.
Gym Ten: No! We only knew him as The VeloDrone. Well, well! Pleased to meet you, Monsieur Voltaire.
The VeloDrone: Oh, no need to make a fuss.
Mike Rann and Mike Turtur stroll over and join the group.
Mike Rann: Hello Monsieur Voltaire, may I say what a pleasure......
The VeloDrone: Likewise. A pleasure. And what do you want?
Marie: Uncle!
Mike Rann: We want you to consider being our big drawcard for the Tour Down Under next year. As you know, Lance Armstrong won't be here......
Mike Turtur: Wait a minute. Weren't you the chap who was involved in the head butting incident? In fact weren't all of you in it?
The VeloDrone: What if we were?
Mike Turtur: Then we would have to decline your offer.
The VeloDrone: Ridiculous! We haven't applied. Marie! I wish you had not drawn attention to us.
Marie: Well, what about me? I was the one who put a stop to it all. I would make a good drawcard.
Mike Rann ( staring at Marie ): But.... you are a woman.
Mike Turtur ( staring also ): Yes you are.
Marie: Yes, I am.
Angel: Yes, she is.
Gym Ten: Some drawcard she would be.
The VeloDrone: Come, Marie. To our bikes!
They mount, and pedal away.
The VeloDrone: Well, Gym Ten and Angel, that was most enjoyable.
Gym Ten: I'm glad you think so.
Angel: I would have liked to have been King of the Mountain.
Gym Ten: I would have liked the ochre jersey.
The VeloDrone: You would have had it, but for the scruples of Marie.
Marie: Some things are more important than winning.
The VeloDrone: Of course, of course. Tell me again what they are?
Marie: I've just been chatting with the Premier Mike Rann, and the race organiser Mike Turtur. They're going to ask you to be next year's big drawcard. What do you think of that?
The VeloDrone: Me?
Marie: Yes, I told them who you were.
Angel: Why? Who is he?
Marie: He's The VeloDrone, also known as the great philosopher Voltaire. I thought you knew.
Gym Ten: No! We only knew him as The VeloDrone. Well, well! Pleased to meet you, Monsieur Voltaire.
The VeloDrone: Oh, no need to make a fuss.
Mike Rann and Mike Turtur stroll over and join the group.
Mike Rann: Hello Monsieur Voltaire, may I say what a pleasure......
The VeloDrone: Likewise. A pleasure. And what do you want?
Marie: Uncle!
Mike Rann: We want you to consider being our big drawcard for the Tour Down Under next year. As you know, Lance Armstrong won't be here......
Mike Turtur: Wait a minute. Weren't you the chap who was involved in the head butting incident? In fact weren't all of you in it?
The VeloDrone: What if we were?
Mike Turtur: Then we would have to decline your offer.
The VeloDrone: Ridiculous! We haven't applied. Marie! I wish you had not drawn attention to us.
Marie: Well, what about me? I was the one who put a stop to it all. I would make a good drawcard.
Mike Rann ( staring at Marie ): But.... you are a woman.
Mike Turtur ( staring also ): Yes you are.
Marie: Yes, I am.
Angel: Yes, she is.
Gym Ten: Some drawcard she would be.
The VeloDrone: Come, Marie. To our bikes!
They mount, and pedal away.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Stage Six: A Close Run Thing
It is the last day of the Tour Down Under, and the course is a street circuit in Adelaide. The VeloDrone and Gym Ten are putting everything into it. They are riding at the head of the peloton.
The VeloDrone: This is more like it. Are you ready for the breakaway?
Gym Ten: Yes. It's much better with a helmet.
The VeloDrone: I told you it would be. Okay, lets go!
*****
Meanwhile Marie and Angel are not too far behind. Angel has his eye on winning King of the Mountain, Adelaide's Montefiore Hill being rather small. Marie is encouraging him.
Marie: It's quite small.
Angel: Yes, but I have to do it twenty times.
Marie: So does everyone else.
Angel: You're a brick, Marie.
Marie: What did you call me?
Angel ( pulling away): Never mind!
*****
The VeloDrone and Gym Ten have not been in front for long when the rest of the peloton catches up. Mattie Gosse, Cameron Meyer and Angel are all jostling for position. Angel is level with Gym Ten. Some vigorous elbowing begins.
The VeloDrone: Ouch! Get away!
Gym Ten: Head butt him!
The VeloDrone: I'm trying!
Angel: Ouch! Head butting is illegal. I'm reporting you!
Marie ( who has made a great effort and caught up ): This is reprehensible! Stop it at once!
Gym Ten: No! We're not going to.
Marie: Oh, yes you are.
She sticks out her foot.
Her team mates all tumble off their bicycles clearing the way for Cameron Meyer, who goes on to win.
Well done him.
The VeloDrone: This is more like it. Are you ready for the breakaway?
Gym Ten: Yes. It's much better with a helmet.
The VeloDrone: I told you it would be. Okay, lets go!
*****
Meanwhile Marie and Angel are not too far behind. Angel has his eye on winning King of the Mountain, Adelaide's Montefiore Hill being rather small. Marie is encouraging him.
Marie: It's quite small.
Angel: Yes, but I have to do it twenty times.
Marie: So does everyone else.
Angel: You're a brick, Marie.
Marie: What did you call me?
Angel ( pulling away): Never mind!
*****
The VeloDrone and Gym Ten have not been in front for long when the rest of the peloton catches up. Mattie Gosse, Cameron Meyer and Angel are all jostling for position. Angel is level with Gym Ten. Some vigorous elbowing begins.
The VeloDrone: Ouch! Get away!
Gym Ten: Head butt him!
The VeloDrone: I'm trying!
Angel: Ouch! Head butting is illegal. I'm reporting you!
Marie ( who has made a great effort and caught up ): This is reprehensible! Stop it at once!
Gym Ten: No! We're not going to.
Marie: Oh, yes you are.
She sticks out her foot.
Her team mates all tumble off their bicycles clearing the way for Cameron Meyer, who goes on to win.
Well done him.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Despondence
Despondence in the Team Gymnosophy camp! Gymnosopher Ten has not gained the ochre jersey at the end of Stage Four. To know why, we must return to Cibo's in Norwood yesterday morning, where Marie and Angel are chatting with Lance Armstrong over an expresso.
Lance Armstrong: So, hard answers eh? That's the wisest thing I've heard all week. If not all year. You are one smart cookie, Angel.
Angel: Thanks.
Marie: Ahem.
Lance Armstrong: Well, better be off, the race starts soon.
Marie: Hasn't it started already?
Lance Armstrong: No, that was the Community Challenge. They set off a couple of hours ago..
Marie: Oh dear. I must call my uncle. He and Gym Ten are riding in the wrong race!
Lance Armstrong: Hey, tough luck! I hope they get back in time for the start.
******
Stage Five, the next day, McLaren Vale to Willunga. Marie and Angel are riding at the front of the peloton. The Velodrone and Gym Ten are lagging towards the rear. Lance Armstrong is somewhere in the middle.
Angel: I can't help feeling responsible.
Marie: No, it was their own fault. They should have noticed that everyone was wearing yellow.
Angel: And looked like a different class of rider entirely.
Marie: Yes. They were too busy talking philosophy I bet. By the way Angel, can I ask you something? Do you answer all questions the same?
Angel: With hard answers? Yes.
******
Meanwhile, further back:
Lance Armstrong: And this guy said "Hard questions have hard answers". How brilliant is that?
Robbie McEwen: Man, that's awesome!
******
Meanwhile, even further back:
The VeloDrone: Don't look so grim.
Gym Ten: I feel like giving up.
The VeloDrone: Come, come, remember you are a Gymnosopher, and you are riding a magnificent bicycle, a gift from Alexander as a reward for your wisdom.
Gym Ten: Yes.......but I've lost the ochre jersey and now Angel is in front.
The VeloDrone: Exactly! So now, Gym Ten, it's time to use our noggins!
Lance Armstrong: So, hard answers eh? That's the wisest thing I've heard all week. If not all year. You are one smart cookie, Angel.
Angel: Thanks.
Marie: Ahem.
Lance Armstrong: Well, better be off, the race starts soon.
Marie: Hasn't it started already?
Lance Armstrong: No, that was the Community Challenge. They set off a couple of hours ago..
Marie: Oh dear. I must call my uncle. He and Gym Ten are riding in the wrong race!
Lance Armstrong: Hey, tough luck! I hope they get back in time for the start.
******
Stage Five, the next day, McLaren Vale to Willunga. Marie and Angel are riding at the front of the peloton. The Velodrone and Gym Ten are lagging towards the rear. Lance Armstrong is somewhere in the middle.
Angel: I can't help feeling responsible.
Marie: No, it was their own fault. They should have noticed that everyone was wearing yellow.
Angel: And looked like a different class of rider entirely.
Marie: Yes. They were too busy talking philosophy I bet. By the way Angel, can I ask you something? Do you answer all questions the same?
Angel: With hard answers? Yes.
******
Meanwhile, further back:
Lance Armstrong: And this guy said "Hard questions have hard answers". How brilliant is that?
Robbie McEwen: Man, that's awesome!
******
Meanwhile, even further back:
The VeloDrone: Don't look so grim.
Gym Ten: I feel like giving up.
The VeloDrone: Come, come, remember you are a Gymnosopher, and you are riding a magnificent bicycle, a gift from Alexander as a reward for your wisdom.
Gym Ten: Yes.......but I've lost the ochre jersey and now Angel is in front.
The VeloDrone: Exactly! So now, Gym Ten, it's time to use our noggins!
Friday, January 21, 2011
Norwood to Strathalbyn
Stage Four of the Tour Down Under, from Norwood to Strathalbyn. The VeloDrone and Gymnosopher Ten are well out in front. Gymnosopher Ten has the ochre jersey in his sights.
The VeloDrone: Will you wear it, if you win it?
Gymnosopher Ten: Yes, I think I will, but first things first. I need some Powerade.
The VeloDrone: I'll call Marie. ( He gets out his phone ). Marie! Send Angel up to the front with some Powerade, will you. What's that? Oh! Outrageous! Tell him to get a move on. And you too.
Gymnosopher Ten: What's up?
The VeloDrone: They're still in Norwood, drinking expressos.
Gymnosopher Ten: Ah the young....
The VeloDrone: Marie is not that young.
Gymnosopher Ten: Nor is Angel. And he's getting a bit up himself lately, I've observed.
The VeloDrone: How so?
Gymnosopher Ten: Resting on his laurels. Always same answer. Hard questions have hard answers. Yes, we KNOW. But the girls seem to love him.
The VeloDrone: Jealous?
Gymnosopher Ten: Just wait till I get that ochre jersey. I'll show you jealous.
The VeloDrone: Hee hee!!
The VeloDrone: Will you wear it, if you win it?
Gymnosopher Ten: Yes, I think I will, but first things first. I need some Powerade.
The VeloDrone: I'll call Marie. ( He gets out his phone ). Marie! Send Angel up to the front with some Powerade, will you. What's that? Oh! Outrageous! Tell him to get a move on. And you too.
Gymnosopher Ten: What's up?
The VeloDrone: They're still in Norwood, drinking expressos.
Gymnosopher Ten: Ah the young....
The VeloDrone: Marie is not that young.
Gymnosopher Ten: Nor is Angel. And he's getting a bit up himself lately, I've observed.
The VeloDrone: How so?
Gymnosopher Ten: Resting on his laurels. Always same answer. Hard questions have hard answers. Yes, we KNOW. But the girls seem to love him.
The VeloDrone: Jealous?
Gymnosopher Ten: Just wait till I get that ochre jersey. I'll show you jealous.
The VeloDrone: Hee hee!!
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Stage Three
It is Stage Three of the Tour Down Under. The VeloDrone and Gymnosopher Ten are doing well, thanks to the Power Bar. So well are they doing, that Gymnosopher Ten now wears on his back the red number signifying Most Aggressive Rider. They are riding up a hill towards Stirling.
The VeloDrone: This is more like it. Have another Power Bar.
Gymnosopher Ten: Thanks.
The VeloDrone: You've changed your tune a bit since yesterday.
Gymnosopher Ten: Wisdom consists of being wise.
The VeloDrone: Well said. So it does. It is reasonable to try and win, if one finds oneself in a competition.
Gymnosopher Ten: Of course, one should also ask oneself why one has entered the competition.
The VeloDrone: And have you asked that of yourself? If you have, my friend, I am interested to know the answer.
Gymnosopher Ten: Well, Alexander gave me this bicycle. It seems a pity to waste it.
The VeloDrone: Very true.
They pedal on, meditatively, but with great effort.
Meanwhile Marie and Angel are riding at the very back of the peloton, forgetful of everything. So far back are they, that the police car following the last riders has passed them and normal traffic has resumed. They are forced to stop at traffic lights. They find themselves next to Mark Cavendish, who is wearing a bandage over one eye.
Mark Cavendish: Ohhh! Why is this happening to me?
Madam Denis: Everything happens for a reason. You should ask my friend Angel.
Angel: Don't worry Mark Cavendish. Remember, day is older than night, by one day.
Mark Cavendish: What's that supposed to mean?
Angel: Hard questions have hard answers.
Mark Cavendish: I see. Thanks, mate.
The lights turn green. They pedal on, meditatively.
The VeloDrone: This is more like it. Have another Power Bar.
Gymnosopher Ten: Thanks.
The VeloDrone: You've changed your tune a bit since yesterday.
Gymnosopher Ten: Wisdom consists of being wise.
The VeloDrone: Well said. So it does. It is reasonable to try and win, if one finds oneself in a competition.
Gymnosopher Ten: Of course, one should also ask oneself why one has entered the competition.
The VeloDrone: And have you asked that of yourself? If you have, my friend, I am interested to know the answer.
Gymnosopher Ten: Well, Alexander gave me this bicycle. It seems a pity to waste it.
The VeloDrone: Very true.
They pedal on, meditatively, but with great effort.
Meanwhile Marie and Angel are riding at the very back of the peloton, forgetful of everything. So far back are they, that the police car following the last riders has passed them and normal traffic has resumed. They are forced to stop at traffic lights. They find themselves next to Mark Cavendish, who is wearing a bandage over one eye.
Mark Cavendish: Ohhh! Why is this happening to me?
Madam Denis: Everything happens for a reason. You should ask my friend Angel.
Angel: Don't worry Mark Cavendish. Remember, day is older than night, by one day.
Mark Cavendish: What's that supposed to mean?
Angel: Hard questions have hard answers.
Mark Cavendish: I see. Thanks, mate.
The lights turn green. They pedal on, meditatively.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Falling on Angel
Team Gymnosophy is riding in a group near the back of the peloton. They are lucky to be riding at all.
The VeloDrone: I still can't believe we missed Stage One entirely.
Madam Denis: At least we aren't disqualified.
The VeloDrone: Yes, that was a brilliant defence of yours, Marie. "My name is Denis. I'm riding as a man."
Gymnosopher Five: And ours! "We are riding as men who wear clothes". That confused them a bit. But they had to concede, because they'd allowed Madam Denis.
Madam Denis: Oh, do call me Marie.
Gymnosopher Ten: Where are we?
The VeloDrone: Somewhere near Mannum. Not far to go now, put some legs into it!
Gymnosopher Ten: I can't.
Gymnosopher Five: I told you you should eat something.
Madam Denis: Haven't you eaten anything? Here, have a Power Bar.
Gymnosopher Ten: No, thank you. Oh no, wait. Alright, I will. Must move with the times.
The VeloDrone: Good man! Eat it up and we'll go to the front.
Madam Denis: Yes, off you go! I'll stay back here with Gymnosopher Five.
Gymnosopher Five: Call me Gym.
Madam Denis: Then you'd both be called Gym. Wouldn't that be confusing? No, I shall call you Angel.
The VeloDrone: Marie! I don't know if I ought to be leaving you back here with this naked young man.
Madam Denis: Don't worry about me, uncle.
The VeloDrone: I'm more worried about him.
Gymnosopher Ten: Ohhhh! Watch out everyone! There's a spill up ahead!
And it was true. Mark Cavendish was down. So were many others. Team Gymnosophy, unable to slow down or circumnavigate the pile-up, tumbled off their bicycles as well.
Marie was happy that she had fallen on top of Angel.
The VeloDrone: I still can't believe we missed Stage One entirely.
Madam Denis: At least we aren't disqualified.
The VeloDrone: Yes, that was a brilliant defence of yours, Marie. "My name is Denis. I'm riding as a man."
Gymnosopher Five: And ours! "We are riding as men who wear clothes". That confused them a bit. But they had to concede, because they'd allowed Madam Denis.
Madam Denis: Oh, do call me Marie.
Gymnosopher Ten: Where are we?
The VeloDrone: Somewhere near Mannum. Not far to go now, put some legs into it!
Gymnosopher Ten: I can't.
Gymnosopher Five: I told you you should eat something.
Madam Denis: Haven't you eaten anything? Here, have a Power Bar.
Gymnosopher Ten: No, thank you. Oh no, wait. Alright, I will. Must move with the times.
The VeloDrone: Good man! Eat it up and we'll go to the front.
Madam Denis: Yes, off you go! I'll stay back here with Gymnosopher Five.
Gymnosopher Five: Call me Gym.
Madam Denis: Then you'd both be called Gym. Wouldn't that be confusing? No, I shall call you Angel.
The VeloDrone: Marie! I don't know if I ought to be leaving you back here with this naked young man.
Madam Denis: Don't worry about me, uncle.
The VeloDrone: I'm more worried about him.
Gymnosopher Ten: Ohhhh! Watch out everyone! There's a spill up ahead!
And it was true. Mark Cavendish was down. So were many others. Team Gymnosophy, unable to slow down or circumnavigate the pile-up, tumbled off their bicycles as well.
Marie was happy that she had fallen on top of Angel.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Tour Down Under
The Tour Down Under is on again in Adelaide. Let's see if anyone we know is here.
Yes! Over there is The VeloDrone, with an attractive young lady. Oh! It's Marie, his niece, otherwise known as Madam Denis. They have new bicycles, and a new team, judging by the colours. Let's get nearer. Team Gymnosophy, well there's a surprise. They seem to be looking for someone.
The VeloDrone: Where are they?
Madam Denis: I'm sure they'll be here in a minute. Don't fuss.
The VeloDrone: I'm not fussing, but well..... yes I am! I knew it was a mistake to team up with Gymnosophers. They don't have that killer instinct. They may not turn up at all.
Madam Denis: Anyone would think you had a killer instinct.
The VeloDrone: I like a good contest, that's all. Where are they?
Madam Denis: Here they come now! Oh my! Look at them!
The VeloDrone: For heaven's sake!
Enter two Gymnosophers, wheeling their bicycles and not wearing any clothes.
Gymnosopher Ten ( for it is he): Hello! Are we late? Sorry!
Gymnosopher Five: ( for it is he): Yes, my fault entirely. I couldn't find my drink bottle.
The VeloDrone: Never mind that! Haven't you forgotten something?
Madam Denis: Pockets, for example?
Gymnosopher Ten: We do without pockets. And may I ask why you are clothed in luxurious Lycra?
The VeloDrone: There is nothing luxurious about it. In fact it is quite uncomfortable. Mine feels particularly tight this year.
Madam Denis: That is because you have not done your preparation.
Gymnosopher Five: He hasn't?
Madam Denis: No, he hasn't.
The VeloDrone: Yes I have, I have been eating carrots all week.
Gymnosopher Ten: Luxuriousness!
Madam Denis: Well, now gentlemen, if we are going to be an effective team, we must all work together, don't you think?
Gymnosopher Five: Hear, hear!
Madam Denis: I'm glad to hear you say that.
Gymnosopher Five: I am more flexible, being the younger of the two.
Madam Denis: I can see that!
The VeloDrone: Marie! Behave yourself! Come on! Let's get over to the starting line. Nice bicycles you Gymnosophers have, by the way.
Gymnosopher Ten: Thanks. They're Alexanders.
Yes! Over there is The VeloDrone, with an attractive young lady. Oh! It's Marie, his niece, otherwise known as Madam Denis. They have new bicycles, and a new team, judging by the colours. Let's get nearer. Team Gymnosophy, well there's a surprise. They seem to be looking for someone.
The VeloDrone: Where are they?
Madam Denis: I'm sure they'll be here in a minute. Don't fuss.
The VeloDrone: I'm not fussing, but well..... yes I am! I knew it was a mistake to team up with Gymnosophers. They don't have that killer instinct. They may not turn up at all.
Madam Denis: Anyone would think you had a killer instinct.
The VeloDrone: I like a good contest, that's all. Where are they?
Madam Denis: Here they come now! Oh my! Look at them!
The VeloDrone: For heaven's sake!
Enter two Gymnosophers, wheeling their bicycles and not wearing any clothes.
Gymnosopher Ten ( for it is he): Hello! Are we late? Sorry!
Gymnosopher Five: ( for it is he): Yes, my fault entirely. I couldn't find my drink bottle.
The VeloDrone: Never mind that! Haven't you forgotten something?
Madam Denis: Pockets, for example?
Gymnosopher Ten: We do without pockets. And may I ask why you are clothed in luxurious Lycra?
The VeloDrone: There is nothing luxurious about it. In fact it is quite uncomfortable. Mine feels particularly tight this year.
Madam Denis: That is because you have not done your preparation.
Gymnosopher Five: He hasn't?
Madam Denis: No, he hasn't.
The VeloDrone: Yes I have, I have been eating carrots all week.
Gymnosopher Ten: Luxuriousness!
Madam Denis: Well, now gentlemen, if we are going to be an effective team, we must all work together, don't you think?
Gymnosopher Five: Hear, hear!
Madam Denis: I'm glad to hear you say that.
Gymnosopher Five: I am more flexible, being the younger of the two.
Madam Denis: I can see that!
The VeloDrone: Marie! Behave yourself! Come on! Let's get over to the starting line. Nice bicycles you Gymnosophers have, by the way.
Gymnosopher Ten: Thanks. They're Alexanders.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Presents
They have every one answered worse than another ? What did he mean? I asked.
I'm not sure, said the Geranium.
So what did Alexander say?
He said: Well then, you shall die first for giving such a verdict.
Fair enough, I said. And did he die first?
No, he came up with a smart answer. He said: O king, that cannot be, unless you falsely said
you would put to death first him who answered worst.
Why was that a smart answer? He had answered worst.
No he hadn't. He was the judge. At least I suppose that was why Alexander was pleased with the answer.
He was pleased?
Yes he must have been, because according to Plutarch, he gave all the Gymnosophists presents and sent them away.
Amazing! What a story! But I'm inclined to think Alexander didn't really understand the answer, and rather than admit it, he sent them away.
Me too, agreed the Geranium. And I often wonder what he gave them as presents, he added.
Hey, yes! they were Gymnosophists! What would they have wanted as presents?
Bicycles! said the Geranium.
In those days.....I began.
No, said the Geranium. I'm changing the subject. Look over there!
And it was true. The street was full of men on bicycles. The Tour Down Under was under way.
Goodbye Geranium! I said. It's been a pleasure chatting to you. But now I must leave you and follow the Tour.
I'm not sure, said the Geranium.
So what did Alexander say?
He said: Well then, you shall die first for giving such a verdict.
Fair enough, I said. And did he die first?
No, he came up with a smart answer. He said: O king, that cannot be, unless you falsely said
you would put to death first him who answered worst.
Why was that a smart answer? He had answered worst.
No he hadn't. He was the judge. At least I suppose that was why Alexander was pleased with the answer.
He was pleased?
Yes he must have been, because according to Plutarch, he gave all the Gymnosophists presents and sent them away.
Amazing! What a story! But I'm inclined to think Alexander didn't really understand the answer, and rather than admit it, he sent them away.
Me too, agreed the Geranium. And I often wonder what he gave them as presents, he added.
Hey, yes! they were Gymnosophists! What would they have wanted as presents?
Bicycles! said the Geranium.
In those days.....I began.
No, said the Geranium. I'm changing the subject. Look over there!
And it was true. The street was full of men on bicycles. The Tour Down Under was under way.
Goodbye Geranium! I said. It's been a pleasure chatting to you. But now I must leave you and follow the Tour.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
The Judgement
Can we hurry this up, I'm interested in Gymnosophist number ten, I said.
No, said the Geranium. Unless you've heard all the questions you won't understand his judgement.
I will, I said. The questions are all the same sort.
Shut up, said the Geranium. Do you want to know the answer to the question on life and death?
No, I said. The answer wasn't death, so it must have been life. Go on with the next one.
The answer, said the Geranium huffily, was that life is the stronger, since it supports so many ills.
Swizz! I said. That has to be the worst answer. Alright, what was number nine?
How long is it good for a man to live? said the Geranium.
Easy, I said. Until death seems the better option.
You got one right! said the Geranium, surprised.
I'm no fool, I said. So now, Alexander asks the tenth and oldest Gymnosophist to judge which of the others has given the worst answer. What does he say?
No, said the Geranium. Unless you've heard all the questions you won't understand his judgement.
I will, I said. The questions are all the same sort.
Shut up, said the Geranium. Do you want to know the answer to the question on life and death?
No, I said. The answer wasn't death, so it must have been life. Go on with the next one.
The answer, said the Geranium huffily, was that life is the stronger, since it supports so many ills.
Swizz! I said. That has to be the worst answer. Alright, what was number nine?
How long is it good for a man to live? said the Geranium.
Easy, I said. Until death seems the better option.
You got one right! said the Geranium, surprised.
I'm no fool, I said. So now, Alexander asks the tenth and oldest Gymnosophist to judge which of the others has given the worst answer. What does he say?
This is where things become somewhat opaque, said the Geranium.
He says that?
No, he says this: They have every one answered worse than another.
Life or Death?
So, which is older, day or night? I asked.
Well, said the Geranium, the Gymnosophist answered that day was older, by one day.
What kind of an answer was that?
Alexander asked the same thing. What kind of an answer is that? And the Gymnosophist replied: Hard questions have hard answers.
Ooh! And did he get killed?
No, Alexander wasn't the judge.
Who was?
Alexander had chosen the oldest Gymnosophist to be the judge.
Exciting! Hurry up with the story.
Patience, said the Geranium, and went on:
Next, Alexander asked Gymnosophist number six: How can a man be most loved? He answered: If he is most powerful and yet does not inspire fear. Then Alexander asked Gymnosophist number seven: How might one become a god instead of a man? He answered: By doing something which a man cannot do.
What's that?
Alexander didn't ask. He probably realised he would be wasting a question.
Oh yes, what can a man do that a man cannot do? What a silly question. You could, though, couldn't you, Geranium?
What?
Do something a man cannot do, being a plant. Does that make you a god?
I doubt it, I would have to do something a plant cannot do.
You do.
What do I do? Don't distract me..... now where was I? Question number eight. Which is stronger, life or death?
Death, I said, without thinking.
Wrong, said the Geranium. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Well, said the Geranium, the Gymnosophist answered that day was older, by one day.
What kind of an answer was that?
Alexander asked the same thing. What kind of an answer is that? And the Gymnosophist replied: Hard questions have hard answers.
Ooh! And did he get killed?
No, Alexander wasn't the judge.
Who was?
Alexander had chosen the oldest Gymnosophist to be the judge.
Exciting! Hurry up with the story.
Patience, said the Geranium, and went on:
Next, Alexander asked Gymnosophist number six: How can a man be most loved? He answered: If he is most powerful and yet does not inspire fear. Then Alexander asked Gymnosophist number seven: How might one become a god instead of a man? He answered: By doing something which a man cannot do.
What's that?
Alexander didn't ask. He probably realised he would be wasting a question.
Oh yes, what can a man do that a man cannot do? What a silly question. You could, though, couldn't you, Geranium?
What?
Do something a man cannot do, being a plant. Does that make you a god?
I doubt it, I would have to do something a plant cannot do.
You do.
What do I do? Don't distract me..... now where was I? Question number eight. Which is stronger, life or death?
Death, I said, without thinking.
Wrong, said the Geranium. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Day or Night?
Minute's up! said the Geranium. Which are more numerous, the living or the dead?
Am I guessing the answer, or what the Gymnosophist said? I asked.
What he said, said the Geranium. Which?
The living, I said. Because the dead don't count.
Don't exist, corrected the Geranium.
No, I said, they do exist, otherwise why are plots in graveyards in short supply? After fifty years they dig you up, didn't you know?
Tell me about it, said the Geranium.
Sorry I forgot you were a Geranium. But my point is, it's a play on words. The dead don't count. Get it?
Well that's not the translation I read, said the Geranium.
But do you agree it makes more sense? I asked. And Alexander would have liked it?
I do agree, said the Geranium. But at this rate it is going to take us all afternoon to get through the ten questions. Shall I tell you the second one?
Go on.
The second Gymnosophist was asked whether the earth or the sea produce larger animals.
What did he answer?
The earth, because the sea is but part of the earth.
Very good. And the third?
Which animal is the most cunning?
The fox?
No! The Gymnosophist answered that it was the one that man had not yet discovered.
Oh ! Alexander would have liked that!
Yes, he did. Next he asked the fourth Gymnosophist why he supported the revolt. And he replied that he wished to either live nobly or die nobly.
Another tick from Alexander for that answer, I bet! and the fifth?
The fifth is my favourite , said the Geranium. Which is older, day or night?
Wow! I said, admiringly. Great question!
Am I guessing the answer, or what the Gymnosophist said? I asked.
What he said, said the Geranium. Which?
The living, I said. Because the dead don't count.
Don't exist, corrected the Geranium.
No, I said, they do exist, otherwise why are plots in graveyards in short supply? After fifty years they dig you up, didn't you know?
Tell me about it, said the Geranium.
Sorry I forgot you were a Geranium. But my point is, it's a play on words. The dead don't count. Get it?
Well that's not the translation I read, said the Geranium.
But do you agree it makes more sense? I asked. And Alexander would have liked it?
I do agree, said the Geranium. But at this rate it is going to take us all afternoon to get through the ten questions. Shall I tell you the second one?
Go on.
The second Gymnosophist was asked whether the earth or the sea produce larger animals.
What did he answer?
The earth, because the sea is but part of the earth.
Very good. And the third?
Which animal is the most cunning?
The fox?
No! The Gymnosophist answered that it was the one that man had not yet discovered.
Oh ! Alexander would have liked that!
Yes, he did. Next he asked the fourth Gymnosophist why he supported the revolt. And he replied that he wished to either live nobly or die nobly.
Another tick from Alexander for that answer, I bet! and the fifth?
The fifth is my favourite , said the Geranium. Which is older, day or night?
Wow! I said, admiringly. Great question!
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Alexander and the Geranium
It was obvious the Geranium knew very little about cars.
You don't know much about cars, I said. If you scraped off the bird shit you'd damage the paint.
What do I care? said the Geranium. I am not one for luxury. But I can understand why you don't like bird shit. I don't much like it myself.
Are you a Gymnosopher or not? I asked. You don't care for luxury, yet you don't like birdshit.
I'm a bit of a Gymnosopher, I suppose, said the Geranium. I stand on one foot, I stare at the sun, I don't spit. But I also like a little water now and then.
How reasonable, I said.
I like to think I'm reasonable, said the Geranium. By the way, have you read any Plutarch?
Not lately.
Then you may not know the famous passage in which Alexander the Great asks ten questions of ten Gymnosophists.
I don't. Why does he do it?
He's heard they are wise. He also wants to kill them because they have aided his enemies. So he says he will put to death the first one who gives him an incorrect answer.
Brilliant! What's the first question?
Which are more numerous, the living or the dead? said the Geranium. It's a tricky one. Do you want to know the answer?
No, I said, let me think about it for a minute.
You don't know much about cars, I said. If you scraped off the bird shit you'd damage the paint.
What do I care? said the Geranium. I am not one for luxury. But I can understand why you don't like bird shit. I don't much like it myself.
Are you a Gymnosopher or not? I asked. You don't care for luxury, yet you don't like birdshit.
I'm a bit of a Gymnosopher, I suppose, said the Geranium. I stand on one foot, I stare at the sun, I don't spit. But I also like a little water now and then.
How reasonable, I said.
I like to think I'm reasonable, said the Geranium. By the way, have you read any Plutarch?
Not lately.
Then you may not know the famous passage in which Alexander the Great asks ten questions of ten Gymnosophists.
I don't. Why does he do it?
He's heard they are wise. He also wants to kill them because they have aided his enemies. So he says he will put to death the first one who gives him an incorrect answer.
Brilliant! What's the first question?
Which are more numerous, the living or the dead? said the Geranium. It's a tricky one. Do you want to know the answer?
No, I said, let me think about it for a minute.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
The Potted Gymnosophist
I was out the front cleaning the car yesterday afternoon.
First I needed a bowl of water from the tap in the corner. I was bending down filling the bowl when a car pulled up. An old couple got out. They must have had a doctor's appointment.
What a lovely Gymnosophist you have in that pot, said the old woman. It looks so pretty with the pink and white flowers. She was talking to me.
Yes it is, I replied. But it wouldn't thank you for saying so. It doesn't hold with luxury, or compliments. I didn't look up. I didn't want to spill any water.
I poured some Wash 'n Wax into the bowl and began to wash the car with the giant yellow
sponge. There were big brown blobby bird droppings all over the bonnet. They broke up in the frothy water and drizzled down onto the front bumper.
This isn't how to wash a car, I thought. Why is it that sometimes I know how to do it, and sometimes I don't?
O Gymnosophist! I addressed the potted Gymnosophist under the window. Tell me, what is the proper order of things in the washing of a car?
Are you talking to me? said the Geranium. I'm a GERANIUM! But if you want my opinion I think you should scrape the shit off first.
First I needed a bowl of water from the tap in the corner. I was bending down filling the bowl when a car pulled up. An old couple got out. They must have had a doctor's appointment.
What a lovely Gymnosophist you have in that pot, said the old woman. It looks so pretty with the pink and white flowers. She was talking to me.
Yes it is, I replied. But it wouldn't thank you for saying so. It doesn't hold with luxury, or compliments. I didn't look up. I didn't want to spill any water.
I poured some Wash 'n Wax into the bowl and began to wash the car with the giant yellow
sponge. There were big brown blobby bird droppings all over the bonnet. They broke up in the frothy water and drizzled down onto the front bumper.
This isn't how to wash a car, I thought. Why is it that sometimes I know how to do it, and sometimes I don't?
O Gymnosophist! I addressed the potted Gymnosophist under the window. Tell me, what is the proper order of things in the washing of a car?
Are you talking to me? said the Geranium. I'm a GERANIUM! But if you want my opinion I think you should scrape the shit off first.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
No, That's Not It
Is it a sunflower? I asked.
Sunflowers don't have legs, said Pliny.
But it's the sort of thing you say in a riddle, I said. Nutella jars don't have hats.
That's what I thought, said Pliny. That was why I couldn't guess the answer.
So it's not a sunflower then. Don't tell me it's a race of people that stand on one leg?
You're getting close, said Pliny.
And they stare all day at the sun? I said.
Yes, said Pliny.
And they never spit, or get a headache?
Yes, said Pliny.
You haven't learnt, have you, I said. You've just listed their attributes without any riddling. Who are these people?
They are the Indian Gymnosophists, said Pliny. Perhaps you have heard of them. They live in India. They are over seven feet high. They never spit, or get a headache, or a toothache, or a pain in the eyes, or any other part. They are hardened by the heat of the sun. They are called Gymnosophists, or naked philosophers, and they remain standing from sunrise to sunset while looking fixedly at the sun, resting first on one foot, then the other.
Philosophers? I said, surprised. What kind of philosophy is that?
The philosophy of needing nothing, said Pliny. It is a philosophy that I admire. As you know I do not hold with luxury.
Except the luxury of relying on secondary sources, I said, unkindly.
Sunflowers don't have legs, said Pliny.
But it's the sort of thing you say in a riddle, I said. Nutella jars don't have hats.
That's what I thought, said Pliny. That was why I couldn't guess the answer.
So it's not a sunflower then. Don't tell me it's a race of people that stand on one leg?
You're getting close, said Pliny.
And they stare all day at the sun? I said.
Yes, said Pliny.
And they never spit, or get a headache?
Yes, said Pliny.
You haven't learnt, have you, I said. You've just listed their attributes without any riddling. Who are these people?
They are the Indian Gymnosophists, said Pliny. Perhaps you have heard of them. They live in India. They are over seven feet high. They never spit, or get a headache, or a toothache, or a pain in the eyes, or any other part. They are hardened by the heat of the sun. They are called Gymnosophists, or naked philosophers, and they remain standing from sunrise to sunset while looking fixedly at the sun, resting first on one foot, then the other.
Philosophers? I said, surprised. What kind of philosophy is that?
The philosophy of needing nothing, said Pliny. It is a philosophy that I admire. As you know I do not hold with luxury.
Except the luxury of relying on secondary sources, I said, unkindly.
Monday, January 10, 2011
That's It
So, said Pliny the Elder. It is a jar of Nutella. But a jar of Nutella unlike any jar of Nutella I have ever seen.
It was a particular jar, I admitted.
Indeed, said Pliny. Pray tell me about the icons and runes depicting heroism and despair.
It was a long time ago, I said. But I think that on one side of the glass Homer Simpson was about to swing his club heroically at the golf ball. On the other side he was grimacing because he had taken out a chunk of dirt instead.
I see, said Pliny. That can happen. But what was the hat of white?
The lid of the jar, I said.
And the paper coat of many colours?
A removable label.
I see, said Pliny.
He thought for a while.
I think I am ready to try another riddle, he said.
I don't have one, I said.
No, I have one, he said. See if you can guess it:
I stand upon one leg,
And stare all day at the sun
I never spit
Or get a headache
That's it
What am I ?
An Ethiopian? I guessed.
Why do we always think the answer to a riddle might be an Ethiopian? asked Pliny.
I don't know, I said. Is it the answer?
No, said Pliny. It never is.
It was a particular jar, I admitted.
Indeed, said Pliny. Pray tell me about the icons and runes depicting heroism and despair.
It was a long time ago, I said. But I think that on one side of the glass Homer Simpson was about to swing his club heroically at the golf ball. On the other side he was grimacing because he had taken out a chunk of dirt instead.
I see, said Pliny. That can happen. But what was the hat of white?
The lid of the jar, I said.
And the paper coat of many colours?
A removable label.
I see, said Pliny.
He thought for a while.
I think I am ready to try another riddle, he said.
I don't have one, I said.
No, I have one, he said. See if you can guess it:
I stand upon one leg,
And stare all day at the sun
I never spit
Or get a headache
That's it
What am I ?
An Ethiopian? I guessed.
Why do we always think the answer to a riddle might be an Ethiopian? asked Pliny.
I don't know, I said. Is it the answer?
No, said Pliny. It never is.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Not an Ethiopian
Pliny, I said, you have no idea of the art of riddling. The idea is to think of something ordinary, then describe it in a rhyme, in such a way as to make it hard for anyone to guess what it is.
I did, said Pliny.
No you didn't. You took a piece of misinformation, wrote it down almost verbatim, and then expected me to guess what the piece of misinformation referred to. It's not the same thing.
Are you saying I didn't make it hard enough for you to guess what it was? asked Pliny.
No! If you hadn't told me the answer was the opposite of what I might expect I never would have got it. I'll give you a proper riddle. One I made up years ago. See if you can guess it:
My body is soft and dark and sweet
And coveted by folk with silver knives;
My outer shell is brittle hard and clear
I wear upon my head a hat of white;
My skin is painted with icons and runes
Depicting heroism and despair,
A yellow man, a green, ravaged earth, you will see there;
Protecting these from prying human eyes
A paper coat of many colours I do wear.
WHAT AM I ?
An intriguing riddle, said Pliny. Is it....an Ethiopian?
No of course not. It's a thing.
Is it an egg?
No. Do you want a clue?
Yes.
It's something inside something else. And there is something on the outside too.
This is most perplexing.
It's meant to be. Shall I give you the answer?
Please do.
The answer is: A jar of Nutella, with Homer Simpson playing golf painted on the glass.
Pliny looked puzzled.
Is there such a thing? he asked.
Of course there is, I said.
I did, said Pliny.
No you didn't. You took a piece of misinformation, wrote it down almost verbatim, and then expected me to guess what the piece of misinformation referred to. It's not the same thing.
Are you saying I didn't make it hard enough for you to guess what it was? asked Pliny.
No! If you hadn't told me the answer was the opposite of what I might expect I never would have got it. I'll give you a proper riddle. One I made up years ago. See if you can guess it:
My body is soft and dark and sweet
And coveted by folk with silver knives;
My outer shell is brittle hard and clear
I wear upon my head a hat of white;
My skin is painted with icons and runes
Depicting heroism and despair,
A yellow man, a green, ravaged earth, you will see there;
Protecting these from prying human eyes
A paper coat of many colours I do wear.
WHAT AM I ?
An intriguing riddle, said Pliny. Is it....an Ethiopian?
No of course not. It's a thing.
Is it an egg?
No. Do you want a clue?
Yes.
It's something inside something else. And there is something on the outside too.
This is most perplexing.
It's meant to be. Shall I give you the answer?
Please do.
The answer is: A jar of Nutella, with Homer Simpson playing golf painted on the glass.
Pliny looked puzzled.
Is there such a thing? he asked.
Of course there is, I said.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Exchanges
Ethiopians? I guessed again.
No, said Pliny. It was the Chinese.
What! I exclaimed. But the Chinese don't have hair of gold and eyes of blue. And they aren't taller than average. Do you mean to say they were like that in your day?
Not exactly, said Pliny. Perhaps you might like to read page 68 now.
I read page 68. I learned that the king of Taprobane, or modern day Sri Lanka, had sent four envoys to Rome, led by one Rachias, who had provided the following information about the Chinese. Namely, his father had travelled to China as a trader. That the Chinese always met them on the beach. The Chinese were above average height with golden coloured hair, blue eyes and harsh voices, although no conversation was had with them.
You see, said Pliny.
I see, I said. You got it wrong. But it wasn't your fault entirely. You were just relating what the Taprobanian envoy's dad had said. But didn't your Roman merchants deal directly with the Chinese too? Didn't they know what they looked like?
No, said Pliny. According to our merchants' accounts, they would leave their goods on the riverbank next to those put out for sale. If the Chinese liked the exchange they took the goods away. Our merchants did not see them.
Oh, I said. Well, I suppose you are exonerated. Is that why you made up the riddle?
I sought to divert your attention, said Pliny.
It didn't work, I said. It drew my attention. But it was an impossible riddle.
It wasn't, said Pliny. I knew the answer.
But the answer was wrong, I said. Wasn't it?
That was it's comical aspect, said Pliny.
No, said Pliny. It was the Chinese.
What! I exclaimed. But the Chinese don't have hair of gold and eyes of blue. And they aren't taller than average. Do you mean to say they were like that in your day?
Not exactly, said Pliny. Perhaps you might like to read page 68 now.
I read page 68. I learned that the king of Taprobane, or modern day Sri Lanka, had sent four envoys to Rome, led by one Rachias, who had provided the following information about the Chinese. Namely, his father had travelled to China as a trader. That the Chinese always met them on the beach. The Chinese were above average height with golden coloured hair, blue eyes and harsh voices, although no conversation was had with them.
You see, said Pliny.
I see, I said. You got it wrong. But it wasn't your fault entirely. You were just relating what the Taprobanian envoy's dad had said. But didn't your Roman merchants deal directly with the Chinese too? Didn't they know what they looked like?
No, said Pliny. According to our merchants' accounts, they would leave their goods on the riverbank next to those put out for sale. If the Chinese liked the exchange they took the goods away. Our merchants did not see them.
Oh, I said. Well, I suppose you are exonerated. Is that why you made up the riddle?
I sought to divert your attention, said Pliny.
It didn't work, I said. It drew my attention. But it was an impossible riddle.
It wasn't, said Pliny. I knew the answer.
But the answer was wrong, I said. Wasn't it?
That was it's comical aspect, said Pliny.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Pliny's Riddle
Next morning when I opened my copy of Natural History, a piece of paper fell out.
There was something written on it, in pencil, and it looked like Pliny's writing.
Here is a riddle just for you
Hair of gold and eyes of blue
Where's my lunch?
That didn't seem like much of a riddle. I'd been busy all day yesterday and hadn't had time to leave him any lunch, but there was plenty of bread and ham. Lazy old Roman.
I went looking for him.
Pliny, I said. Couldn't you have made your own lunch?
I did, said Pliny. What are you talking about?
The riddle, I replied.
Oh, the riddle, said Pliny. It wasn't finished. I was distracted by having to construct a sandwich. It isn't easy to do.
A riddle or a sandwich? I asked.
Both, he answered. But I meant the sandwich.
What about the riddle? I asked. Have you finished it yet?
Yes, he said, but it's probably too late now. Have you read page 68?
No, not yet. So what's the riddle?
Pliny recited:
Here is a riddle just for you
Hair of gold and eyes of blue....
He stopped. What do you think of the rhyme? he asked. We ancient Romans aren't used to rhyming.
You and blue? I said. An excellent rhyme, but do go on.
Taller than the average height
Generally keeping out of sight
A harsh voice too
Who am I?
I don't know, I said. Swedish people?
No! Pliny laughed, in a manner that seemed a bit forced.
It's a comical riddle, he explained. So the answer is what you would least expect.
Chinese people? I asked.
Pliny looked disappointed.
There was something written on it, in pencil, and it looked like Pliny's writing.
Here is a riddle just for you
Hair of gold and eyes of blue
Where's my lunch?
That didn't seem like much of a riddle. I'd been busy all day yesterday and hadn't had time to leave him any lunch, but there was plenty of bread and ham. Lazy old Roman.
I went looking for him.
Pliny, I said. Couldn't you have made your own lunch?
I did, said Pliny. What are you talking about?
The riddle, I replied.
Oh, the riddle, said Pliny. It wasn't finished. I was distracted by having to construct a sandwich. It isn't easy to do.
A riddle or a sandwich? I asked.
Both, he answered. But I meant the sandwich.
What about the riddle? I asked. Have you finished it yet?
Yes, he said, but it's probably too late now. Have you read page 68?
No, not yet. So what's the riddle?
Pliny recited:
Here is a riddle just for you
Hair of gold and eyes of blue....
He stopped. What do you think of the rhyme? he asked. We ancient Romans aren't used to rhyming.
You and blue? I said. An excellent rhyme, but do go on.
Taller than the average height
Generally keeping out of sight
A harsh voice too
Who am I?
I don't know, I said. Swedish people?
No! Pliny laughed, in a manner that seemed a bit forced.
It's a comical riddle, he explained. So the answer is what you would least expect.
Chinese people? I asked.
Pliny looked disappointed.
Taprobane
Pliny the Elder was home alone. It was hot. He wandered about the house idly looking for something to read.
His eye fell upon my copy of his Natural History.
I wonder where she's up to? he muttered to himself. I'll just open it up at the bookmark and see.
He opened the book at the bookmark, which was at page 68.
Taprobane! he said, his eyes misting over with pleasure. She'll like this section. This is where I introduce the Chinese.
He skimmed over the familiar lines.
They weren't as familiar as he remembered. Oh dear! he said to himself. I got that a bit wrong. She'll be needling me about it tomorrow. What can I do to prevent it?
He thought for a while.
I know, he said. I'll make up a comical riddle.
He sat down at a table with his fish-topped pencil, and began to compose.
Here is a riddle just for you
My hair is gold, my eyes are blue
A good rhyme, he said. That is a very good start. I think I'll have something to eat now, then finish it off after lunch.
His eye fell upon my copy of his Natural History.
I wonder where she's up to? he muttered to himself. I'll just open it up at the bookmark and see.
He opened the book at the bookmark, which was at page 68.
Taprobane! he said, his eyes misting over with pleasure. She'll like this section. This is where I introduce the Chinese.
He skimmed over the familiar lines.
They weren't as familiar as he remembered. Oh dear! he said to himself. I got that a bit wrong. She'll be needling me about it tomorrow. What can I do to prevent it?
He thought for a while.
I know, he said. I'll make up a comical riddle.
He sat down at a table with his fish-topped pencil, and began to compose.
Here is a riddle just for you
My hair is gold, my eyes are blue
A good rhyme, he said. That is a very good start. I think I'll have something to eat now, then finish it off after lunch.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
...and Lemmings
I keep thinking about your Hyperboreans, I said to Pliny the Elder. It seems a funny way to choose to die, by jumping off a cliff after a special dinner.
No, it doesn't , said Pliny. I might very well choose to do the same myself.
Hah! I said. You can't. It's too late for you.
I mean if I still had the choice before me, said Pliny.
I don't believe anyone would do that, I said. Except perhaps for lemmings. Where was it you said these Hyperboreans lived?
Beyond the Ripaean Mountains, said Pliny, which I think are these days called the Alps. In Hyperborea they enjoy six months of daylight at a time. There are found the hinges on which the world turns, and the limits of the circuits of the stars.
The Arctic? I said. Are you sure your Hyperboreans weren't actually lemmings? Because lemmings live up in those regions.
It is you who are confused, said Pliny. You probably think lemmings leap off cliffs in order to commit mass suicide. They do not.
I thought they did, I said.
No, said Pliny. That is where you have not kept up with modern research.
But what about that Disney Documentary, White Wilderness? I said. In 1958, they made a documentary that actually showed hundreds of lemmings jumping off a cliff to certain death. I think I saw it. No, I'm sure I did.
Aha, said Pliny. But did you see the The Cruel Camera, in 2008?
No, I said. Have I missed something?
It seems, said Pliny that the makers of White Wilderness, which won an Academy Award, by the way, transported lemmings from Hudson Bay to Calgary and launched them off a cliff using a turntable.
How dreadful, Pliny! I had no idea. Lucky you saw that and could put me right about lemmings.
One should always keep one's ears and eyes open, said Pliny.
I was silent for a while, thinking of the lemmings, and of the Hyperboreans.
Do you think, I asked, that something like that might have happened to the Hyperboreans?
What? said Pliny. That after dinner their guests shot them into the sea from a turntable?
No, I said, but maybe they didn't really want to go.
You don't understand the ancients at all, said Pliny.
No, it doesn't , said Pliny. I might very well choose to do the same myself.
Hah! I said. You can't. It's too late for you.
I mean if I still had the choice before me, said Pliny.
I don't believe anyone would do that, I said. Except perhaps for lemmings. Where was it you said these Hyperboreans lived?
Beyond the Ripaean Mountains, said Pliny, which I think are these days called the Alps. In Hyperborea they enjoy six months of daylight at a time. There are found the hinges on which the world turns, and the limits of the circuits of the stars.
The Arctic? I said. Are you sure your Hyperboreans weren't actually lemmings? Because lemmings live up in those regions.
It is you who are confused, said Pliny. You probably think lemmings leap off cliffs in order to commit mass suicide. They do not.
I thought they did, I said.
No, said Pliny. That is where you have not kept up with modern research.
But what about that Disney Documentary, White Wilderness? I said. In 1958, they made a documentary that actually showed hundreds of lemmings jumping off a cliff to certain death. I think I saw it. No, I'm sure I did.
Aha, said Pliny. But did you see the The Cruel Camera, in 2008?
No, I said. Have I missed something?
It seems, said Pliny that the makers of White Wilderness, which won an Academy Award, by the way, transported lemmings from Hudson Bay to Calgary and launched them off a cliff using a turntable.
How dreadful, Pliny! I had no idea. Lucky you saw that and could put me right about lemmings.
One should always keep one's ears and eyes open, said Pliny.
I was silent for a while, thinking of the lemmings, and of the Hyperboreans.
Do you think, I asked, that something like that might have happened to the Hyperboreans?
What? said Pliny. That after dinner their guests shot them into the sea from a turntable?
No, I said, but maybe they didn't really want to go.
You don't understand the ancients at all, said Pliny.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Hyperboreans
So that's the end of Wittgenstein and Saint Nicholas? said Pliny the Elder.
Yes, I suppose so, I said.
Good, said Pliny.
Why? I asked. I've grown to like them. I could probably keep on writing about them for ever.
I'm certain you could, said Pliny. And it was all very well during the holiday period, but there are more serious things to write about than philosophy, icecreams and paintball.
What do you have in mind? I asked.
Well, said Pliny. I'm glad that you've asked. I couldn't help noticing that you received a copy of my Natural History for Christmas. How are you liking it so far?
I think Professor Healy has done a good job, I said. I expected he would have chosen to present only the most interesting parts of your work, but he's given us quite a lot of the tedious stuff as well.
What tedious stuff? asked Pliny.
Geography, I said, for example. And it's all wrong.
It may be all wrong now, said Pliny, but it was all right at the time. Where are you up to?
The Hyperboreans, I replied. I'm enjoying reading about them. "Death does not come until they have had their fill of life. Setting a banquet, they greet their old age with luxury, and then leap into the sea from a certain rock. This method of burial is the most serene." It's all in the way that you tell it, of course.
Thank you , said Pliny. I'm aware of that.
Yes, I suppose so, I said.
Good, said Pliny.
Why? I asked. I've grown to like them. I could probably keep on writing about them for ever.
I'm certain you could, said Pliny. And it was all very well during the holiday period, but there are more serious things to write about than philosophy, icecreams and paintball.
What do you have in mind? I asked.
Well, said Pliny. I'm glad that you've asked. I couldn't help noticing that you received a copy of my Natural History for Christmas. How are you liking it so far?
I think Professor Healy has done a good job, I said. I expected he would have chosen to present only the most interesting parts of your work, but he's given us quite a lot of the tedious stuff as well.
What tedious stuff? asked Pliny.
Geography, I said, for example. And it's all wrong.
It may be all wrong now, said Pliny, but it was all right at the time. Where are you up to?
The Hyperboreans, I replied. I'm enjoying reading about them. "Death does not come until they have had their fill of life. Setting a banquet, they greet their old age with luxury, and then leap into the sea from a certain rock. This method of burial is the most serene." It's all in the way that you tell it, of course.
Thank you , said Pliny. I'm aware of that.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Proposition Seven
You can't disagree with Proposition Seven, Professor Freud, said Irma. You're always telling Emma and me to shut up.
Whatever are you talking about? asked Professor Freud.
When I was suggesting how the fish and the bird could, you know, and you wouldn't let me say it.
That was firstly because of your age, said Professor Freud, and secondly because an icecream shop is hardly the place for speaking of the things we cannot speak about.
Well, where is? asked Irma.
My consulting rooms of course, said Professor Freud. There, for a fee, one may speak of anything.
Professor Freud, said Wittgenstein crossly, Proposition Seven does not refer to things of a sexual nature.
Pardon me, said Professor Freud, but you would be surprised how many things are of a sexual nature, that are not recognised as such.
No, said Wittgenstein. I would not. But my proposition is a general philosophical one and I will not have it sullied. It is to do with statements that make sense and statements that do not.
Oh, I get it, said Irma. You mean, there's no point debating a nonsense.
Exactly right, clever girl, said Wittgenstein, looking triumphantly at Professor Freud.
But what's a nonsense ? asked Emma.
All of this discussion is a nonsense! said Saint Nicholas, getting up. Come on Ludwig, time to whisk ourselves off.
Tch! said Professor Freud. Gentlemen, please! Not in front of the girls!
Whatever are you talking about? asked Professor Freud.
When I was suggesting how the fish and the bird could, you know, and you wouldn't let me say it.
That was firstly because of your age, said Professor Freud, and secondly because an icecream shop is hardly the place for speaking of the things we cannot speak about.
Well, where is? asked Irma.
My consulting rooms of course, said Professor Freud. There, for a fee, one may speak of anything.
Professor Freud, said Wittgenstein crossly, Proposition Seven does not refer to things of a sexual nature.
Pardon me, said Professor Freud, but you would be surprised how many things are of a sexual nature, that are not recognised as such.
No, said Wittgenstein. I would not. But my proposition is a general philosophical one and I will not have it sullied. It is to do with statements that make sense and statements that do not.
Oh, I get it, said Irma. You mean, there's no point debating a nonsense.
Exactly right, clever girl, said Wittgenstein, looking triumphantly at Professor Freud.
But what's a nonsense ? asked Emma.
All of this discussion is a nonsense! said Saint Nicholas, getting up. Come on Ludwig, time to whisk ourselves off.
Tch! said Professor Freud. Gentlemen, please! Not in front of the girls!
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Proposition One, Point One, and Beyond
Proposition One, Point One, said Wittgenstein, ignoring the flow of conversation, is this:
The world is the totality of facts, not of things.
That's quite good, said Irma. That means there are not just icecreams, but facts about icecreams as well, that make up the world.
Yes, said Emma. Such as this icecream has raisins in it. And that icecream is smeared all over Professor Freud's glasses.
Oh, said Professor Freud. Is that why I can't see?
Would you like to borrow my handkerchief? asked Saint Nicholas.
No thank you, said Professor Freud stiffly.
What's the matter? asked Saint Nicholas.
There may be certain facts about your handkerchief, said Professor Freud.
I assure you there are not, said Saint Nicholas. Do go on, Ludwig, he said to Wittgenstein.
Ludwig! giggled Emma.
Be quiet, Emma, said Professor Freud.
Does anyone understand what I'm saying? asked Wittgenstein.
Yes of course we do, said Irma. You are saying that philosophy does not need a special language.
Then, said Wittgenstein, I see that I may skip to my final proposition, which is Proposition Seven.
Good, said Saint Nicholas, because we really must be going soon. What is it?
It is, said Wittgenstein, as follows:
What we cannot speak about we must pass over in silence.
I can't agree with that, said Professor Freud.
The world is the totality of facts, not of things.
That's quite good, said Irma. That means there are not just icecreams, but facts about icecreams as well, that make up the world.
Yes, said Emma. Such as this icecream has raisins in it. And that icecream is smeared all over Professor Freud's glasses.
Oh, said Professor Freud. Is that why I can't see?
Would you like to borrow my handkerchief? asked Saint Nicholas.
No thank you, said Professor Freud stiffly.
What's the matter? asked Saint Nicholas.
There may be certain facts about your handkerchief, said Professor Freud.
I assure you there are not, said Saint Nicholas. Do go on, Ludwig, he said to Wittgenstein.
Ludwig! giggled Emma.
Be quiet, Emma, said Professor Freud.
Does anyone understand what I'm saying? asked Wittgenstein.
Yes of course we do, said Irma. You are saying that philosophy does not need a special language.
Then, said Wittgenstein, I see that I may skip to my final proposition, which is Proposition Seven.
Good, said Saint Nicholas, because we really must be going soon. What is it?
It is, said Wittgenstein, as follows:
What we cannot speak about we must pass over in silence.
I can't agree with that, said Professor Freud.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Proposition One
Irma turned again to Wittgenstein.
If you're a philosopher, she said, you must have a philosophy. What is it, exactly?
It is laid out simply in my Tractatus, said Wittgenstein.
Eeuuw ! said Emma. What's your tractatus?
Now then, Emma! said Professor Freud. It is his famous philosophical publication the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. Your sister was asking a serious question. Listen to the answer.
I have answered, said Wittgenstein.
No you haven't, said Irma. What does it say, the Tractatus?
Wittgenstein sighed.
It says: Proposition One: The world is all that is the case.
Most profound, said Professor Freud. What do you think, girls?
It's not, said Irma. Because it's obvious. What's Proposition Two?
Never mind that yet, said Wittgenstein. It generally takes people longer to understand Proposition One.
Well, I understand it, said Irma.
So do I, said Emma.
I don't, said Saint Nicholas. What about miracles?
Wittgenstein looked pained.
If a miracle can be shown to be a fact, then it is part of the logical world. But once it becomes a fact, it is no longer truly a miracle.
Steady on! cried Saint Nicholas. That isn't right! What about.....?
Are you a philosopher too? interrupted Emma.
No, said Saint Nicholas. I'm a saint. I thought you knew who I was.
You're a fat man who is really bad at Paintball, said Irma.
Well, thank you, said Saint Nicholas. Thank you very much. At least I joined in.
You did, said Professor Freud. And you will do better next time.
That might require a miracle, said Saint Nicholas.
If you're a philosopher, she said, you must have a philosophy. What is it, exactly?
It is laid out simply in my Tractatus, said Wittgenstein.
Eeuuw ! said Emma. What's your tractatus?
Now then, Emma! said Professor Freud. It is his famous philosophical publication the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. Your sister was asking a serious question. Listen to the answer.
I have answered, said Wittgenstein.
No you haven't, said Irma. What does it say, the Tractatus?
Wittgenstein sighed.
It says: Proposition One: The world is all that is the case.
Most profound, said Professor Freud. What do you think, girls?
It's not, said Irma. Because it's obvious. What's Proposition Two?
Never mind that yet, said Wittgenstein. It generally takes people longer to understand Proposition One.
Well, I understand it, said Irma.
So do I, said Emma.
I don't, said Saint Nicholas. What about miracles?
Wittgenstein looked pained.
If a miracle can be shown to be a fact, then it is part of the logical world. But once it becomes a fact, it is no longer truly a miracle.
Steady on! cried Saint Nicholas. That isn't right! What about.....?
Are you a philosopher too? interrupted Emma.
No, said Saint Nicholas. I'm a saint. I thought you knew who I was.
You're a fat man who is really bad at Paintball, said Irma.
Well, thank you, said Saint Nicholas. Thank you very much. At least I joined in.
You did, said Professor Freud. And you will do better next time.
That might require a miracle, said Saint Nicholas.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
