What's Next?

Once upon a time, humans lived outside.

No, wait, no they didn't.

They couldn't live "outside" because there was no "outside." It didn't exist. There was no inside for anywhere to be outside of.

Humans had to create "inside": the physical spaces, a word that means "inside", and the vague notion that one bit of air is different from all the rest just because you lash together a couple of branches in a clearing.

And once humans did all that stuff: tricky lashing and wordsmithing and conceptualizing, they sat back and they relaxed.

"This is INside" they said. "We're not out in the cold anymore, we're in the slightly-less-cold, which is better. We're not like those . . . animals . . . OUTside. We're people, and we live here in the comfort, security, and slightly-less-cold that can only be provided by branches. See? We've got 'em lashed, and everything."

But then a curious thing happened. In the very act of saying those words, every human suddenly wanted to be outside again. What was going on out there? What was the weather like? It was a problem, and it ate at them.

For a long time, the only solution was to go back into the harsh outside world. But in time humans developed better insides, ones with solid walls, and fresh off the invention of the first door, they had an idea.

"We'll just cut a hole in the side!"

And so the first window stole the thunder of the first door, and that's why doors hate windows to this very day.*

Now people had the indoors with some of the outdoors, and that nearly did the trick. But . . . you know, it was a little too much of the outdoors. What was the point of all those walls if the cold was still coming in? So they took the wall piece they'd cut out and put it on a hinge next to the window, and that was the first shutter. Now people could be inside, see what was going on outside, and still be slightly-less-cold when they wanted. But it wasn't over yet. People missed the plants too!

The people took a container, filled it with dirt from outside, put one of the plants in it, and created the first "potted plant." But there was no rain inside and the plant started to die. So the people went out and got water. The container held all that water, and the plant started to die again. So the people put holes in the container to keep it from containing so much! Then they put a dish under the container to catch all the things it couldn't contain anymore because they put holes in it!

It was a lot of trouble.

And that's why people learned to manufacture plastic, so they could form it into something that LOOKED like a plant, but didn't get dirt and water all over the place. We have fake plants, people, and we make believe that they're real so it will seem like we're outside, even though we're inside.

With all that in mind, I'd like you to watch this.

*I have no idea what this means.

It's fun to play with words!

The enemies in Resident Evil 4 are NOT zombies. The game is very clear on this point.

Instead, the enemies in Resident Evil 4 are humans that have been infected with something, causing them to shamble around and attack anyone who isn't infected.

. . .

Wait a minute.

Last time I checked, the English language had a word for "humans that have been infected with something, causing them to shamble around and attack anyone who isn't infected", and that word was "zombies". And even if the RE4 enemies aren't zombies "proper" (infected with a parasite instead of a virus, able to speak and use simple tools) they're at least close enough that we can lump them in with the traditional definition. But don't you DARE call them "zombies" on the gamefaqs.com message boards, because they're NOT zombies. The game said so. And you will get called on it.

I'm always fascinated when creative people, like the ones who made RE4, wield this kind of linguistic power. They are arguing with an entire language, and somehow they're winning. It's amazing, and I want in on it. Here are some of my suggestions for Resident Evil 5:

No more guns. The main character will instead fight with metal devices that fire small projectiles by using gunpowder, and these weapons will be called . . . sherbets. I can't wait to see the first walkthrough that discusses, in minute detail, why the Blacktail sherbet is superior to the Punisher sherbet even though the Punisher sherbet can shoot through more than one enemy at a time.

And speaking of enemies, RE5 should have the things-that-aren't-zombies-even-though-they-totally-are from RE4, but then we'll add these new guys who wear all black, carry katanas, and hide in the shadows. But they won't be ninjas*, they'll be . . . tulips. And when you find yourself swarmed by a horde of tulips, you'll pull out your trusty Semi-automatic Sniper Sherbet and show them who's boss! If you get overwhelmed, you can always bring out a . . . flounder . . . pull the pin, toss it into the crowd and watch it explode.

I'll bet this technique can be applied to all sorts of things. For instance, if I wanted my field of expertise to sound more legitimate, I could just add "science" to the end of it, even if the field has nothing to do with scientific method! Or I could take a clearance sale and call it a "price drop"! The possibilities are endless!

*The Zombie-Ninja crossover is a nearly untapped goldmine. "Versus" was pretty cool, though.

Robert's Rules of Shutup

Human civilization is really about ***holes. All of the systems that we use to create stability are born out of a need to cope with the existence of ***holes, and their craft, which I assume is called ***holery.

Laws - The idea here is that you can only be so much of an a**hole, then you get in trouble. That helps the problem, although some ***holes are crafty enough to work around the laws.

Governments - These are systems created to deal with those crafty ***holes. Since most real ***holes want power, you can use it as bait to funnel them into a single place. That doesn't exactly deal with the ***holes, but at least you can see what you're dealing with.

Once you've done that, you need some way to minimize the effect of the ***holes.

Monarchy - There's only one ***hole. He's a really big a**hole and he's got all the power, but he keeps a lot of other ***holes from getting very far.

Democracy - There are lots of ***holes, but they're constantly tied up fighting with one another. And since they depend on votes to gain control, they at least have to be careful about how and when they act like ***holes.

Oligarchy - Let's just all be ***holes, but collectively, and toward some other people. People who aren't us.

What's interesting about all our solutions to the "***hole Conundrum" is that they are passive. They are designed for people who are not willing to lead revolutions, lobby for change, or tell other people that they shouldn't be acting like ***holes in the first place. The good, by grace of being good, are not motivated to seek power, not even enough to keep ***holes out of power.

And this creates a perception that ***holes are indestructible, that they are everywhere and everyone, that they are always after you.

Wikipedia - There aren't as many ***holes as you think.

The people behind Wikipedia have put forth a really interesting idea. Give everyone real, direct control over something. Give each person power over every other person. Let each one create and destroy.* And most importantly, keep everyone on exactly the same level.

And in doing this, they have made an assumption: that good and useful information will rule, that lies and vandalism will be held back, that eventually ***holes get bored and go home.

Like the other solutions, it's not perfect, but it's something to think about.

*Except on the Harry Potter article, which is locked until further notice.

Idiolectica

fua n (2001): a woman seen in the social company of a male friend, when the nature of their relationship is not clear

Have you ever seen some guy you know, and he's out somewhere with a girl, maybe you know her or maybe you don't, and they're clearly "together" but you don't have any indication if it's a date or not? Is she his girlfriend? Is she someone he's dating? Is she a friend? In that situation, she is a "fua", a "Female of Unknown Association".

I've coined a few words and phrases over the years, and I'd really like to see them added into the general lexicon. I'm sure most of these will never take off, but "fua" is one that I think we need, there simply isn't another word for a person in that particular situation. In fact, we also need a term for when a guy is hanging out with a former girlfriend, but you don't know why. Are they back together? Are they trying to reconcile? Are they just friends? She's a . . .

I don't have an answer for that one. I've tried. "Dua" is the only thing that jumps out at me, since she's a "fua" for a second time, but then that loses the whole acronym idea. "Ex-girlfriend of Unknown Association" would make "Egua", which doesn't quite roll off the tongue. Maybe I should just consider the whole thing an extension of pancake amnesia.

pancake amnesia n (2003): a psychological phenomenon where a person will do something they swore they'd never do again, simply because they forgot what was bad about it

Call anyone you know right now. Suggest that you both go get some pancakes. That person will probably say yes.

Pancakes always sound like the best idea in the world. "Of course, pancakes!" you say, "Pancakes are great! Why don't we eat pancakes all the time?" But then, about halfway through your three-stack, you remember: it's fried batter covered in syrup. That's only good for the first few bites, when your body realizes that you're asking it to mix some sort of confectionery concrete in your stomach. At that point you look down and say "Man, I'm not going to be eating pancakes for a while after this."

But even one week later, someone could casually mention IHOP and "OF COURSE, PANCAKES!"

And I know what you're saying. You think I'm wrong. "No, Sam, you just haven't had pancakes the way ______ makes them. If you had those you wouldn't get tired of them." And the sad part is that I know you're wrong, but I'd go have some pancakes the way ______ makes them, because now that I'm talking about it I really want some pancakes.

"Pancake amnesia" might require a lot of explanation to understand, but it's applicable in lots of situations. People have a strange tendency to make certain mistakes over and over again. Fortunately every mistake has a "dune buggy point".

dune buggy point n (2007): the point at which a person knows that he or she has gone too far

This one is a direct reference. There's an episode of "The Simpsons" that deals with a trillion-dollar bill, and at one point Lisa says "We're trillionaires! Let's buy dune buggies!". I love that line because I can imagine it happening. A person has so much money that he runs out of things to spend it on, so he decides to buy a dune buggy, then realizes that neither he nor anyone else has any practical reason to own one. The "dune buggy point" is the place where you say to yourself, "I should probably find something else to do."*

*Dune buggies are cool though. So are snipers. If you had a sniper in a dune buggy, it'd be the most awesome thing ever.

IT USUALLY ISN'T

Death was not what I expected.

It was just so impersonal. It's like the first time you fly on an airplane. You've made all these plans, bought your tickets, packed your luggage, picked out snacks for the flight. Then you get to the airport and realize "Oh, I guess all these people . . . they want to go somewhere too." Somehow you forgot that, yes, THOUSANDS of people fly out of every major airport on a given day. You'd focused on the flight itself and how excited you'd be: "I'm off to my vacation!" you'd said, your ticket clutched in your hand.

Then you got out of the cab and realized that it's not that simple, you can't go anywhere in an airport until you solve an elaborate logic puzzle with gates and kiosks and lines on the floor like some kind of "Wizard of Oz" theme park. And you can't ever stop to think because there are about a thousand people behind you who need to go in every direction you're considering.

And that's what death is like. One minute you're freaked out about "oh no the reserve chute didn't open" and "what's going to happen to my car" and "guess I'm not going to eat the other half of that sandwich", then the next minute you're standing in line trying to figure out where gate 352B is. It was quite a shock to me. Yet, at the same time it all made sense. When humanity was young I guess all you needed was one guy on a horse with a scythe. It was Death built for a small, agrarian society. But with six billion people in the world, eventually we required something that could handle huge numbers on a daily basis. So Death became an airport.

But not exactly. It's different. There are all these signs in really big capital letters, and you have to read them before you can go anywhere. The first one just says "YOU ARE DEAD" a hundred feet high. I laughed at that one. I mean, come on, I KNOW. Reserve chute didn't open, ground rushing up, hey there's a deer "hi buddy!", dark, I'm dead, I gotcha. But as I passed by that sign I saw all these people arguing with it. Yes, arguing with the sign. "I am not!" "You'd better send me back right now!" "I pay my taxes and those pay your salary!" And it was like that at all the other signs too:

"NO YOU CANNOT GO GET YOUR STUFF."
"YES YOU ARE DEAD FOR REAL."
"NO YOU CAN'T GO BACK UNTIL YOU FINISH THE LAST HARRY POTTER BOOK".
"NO WE DO NOT KNOW WHAT HAPPENS IN THE LAST HARRY POTTER BOOK."

And then there was all this paperwork. There are huge rooms of people, like God's blood drive, reading laminated booklets of their lives. Some of the booklet really makes sense: people you helped, people you hurt, people you neglected, all things that I think a person should review before moving on to the afterlife. But then some of it is really weird. "Bugs that crawled on you when you were asleep." "How close you came to finding stuff that you lost." "Things you didn't know you ate." I'm not sure if that's information you really need, or if someone there just thinks it's funny to tell you.

There are statistics too, statistics on everything:

"Games of Scrabble won:"
"Pounds of spit produced:"
"Number of monkeys seen:"

And there's a whole section of numerical ratings on things like "Accuracy", "Number of Secret Items Found" , and "Overall Score", none of which are given any kind of explanation or scale. And you know it's rude to look at someone else's form, I mean this is as personal as it gets, but you still have that wandering eye you developed when teachers handed your essays back.

The last page of the booklet is called "How else it could have gone." It's a list of all these bad things that happened to you, like when you got sick or pulled out into traffic at the wrong time or just tripped over your own feet. And next to each one there's a red stamp.

And no matter who you are, when you finish that page you flip the book closed, look at your name on the cover, let out a deep breath, and walk up to the counter with your coat.

But you know, no matter how much of a hassle the airport was, you make it to that plane eventually. You relax, open one of your candy bars, and wonder what the beach will be like.*

*Hell is arguing with a sign.

Sam versus the nice, well-intentioned people

*ring*

"Hello"

"Hello Sir, I'm calling from the American Red Cross. First of all, thank you for your donations with us in the past. I'm calling you today to let you know that the Athens area blood supply is currently in a state of Ultra-Turbo Crisis. And at the current rate, . . . "

"No it isn't"

" . . . um, I'm sorry?"

"Nothing, go on"

"Oh, well, at the current rate, the Athens area will be out of blood in abouuuuut . . . tweeenty minutes."

"No it won't"

"What?"

"The blood supply won't run out in twenty minutes, or in two days or a week. You guys say that every time you call me, and do I see any "Nation Out of Blood" stories on the news? No, never happens"

"But at the rate that hospitals are using blood, our current supply . . . "

"Your current supply' doesn't take into account the blood drives you run every day of the week. The daily intake has to fluctuate, so there's no way you could be accounting for that. I don't think you even try to factor it in. You stick your head in the ol' blood freezer, ballpark it, and divide by the "current rate" of use, which itself is a load of crap since the usage rate has to fluctuate also, and based on that you call me up and make it sound like we're running on fumes. Your logic is specious, and I will not stand for it."

*pause*

"Are you an English major?"

"Graduate"

*indiscernible mutter*

"Well . . .regardless of the time it will take to run out, I assure you that the supply IS in a state of crisis"

"Nope"

"YES, Ultra-Turbo-"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm telling you, I get these calls every year. It's always 'a critically low condition' or 'mega-terminal shortage' or 'like, seriously dood, we're so low on blood that this morning we had to pump a guy full of ranch dressing! You need to get in here quick cause Doc's eyeing the thousand island!'. Sorry, I'm not buying it."

"But, Sir, that just goes to show how bad the crisis is."

"No, because see, if you're always in a crisis, then that's not really a crisis is it? 'Crisis' implies that there's a normal state of being, and that the current state is a negative deviation from it. You can't be in a 'crisis' constantly because at some point the 'crisis' BECOMES the 'normal'. So how come don't I get any calls like that, huh? Where's my "things are just fine, donate if you've got a minute" call?"

"Well . . .so you're not going to help us save lives just because you think . . ."

"No, that's not it at all. I believe in the blood donation system. I donate a least a couple of times a year at your drives, and I think it's an important part of our society that every capable person should take part in. Anyone tries to preach to me about voting as a 'civic duty' had better be coming straight from the juice table."

"Then, what's the problem?"

"The problem is" *deeper voice* "the problem is that you are lying to me, sir. You have been trying to frighten me into believing something that isn't true and like any other person I eventually stopped taking you seriously. You want people to donate? Then stop making things up. Just call and say "Hey, everything is ok, but it's ok only because people like you are making it ok. So get off your couch, turn off the 'Friends' rerun*, and come down here. We got Nutter Butters tomorrow, it's all good'. That's all I want, Mr. Red Cross-caller-guy, I want just-one-honest-call."

*pause*

"So, would you like to make an appointment?"

"No, your appointments are worthless. I make one, then when I go up there they've never heard of me. You just pretend to make appointments so people will feel obliga . . ."

*click*

"Until next time then, Red Cross . . . until next time."

*Unless you are Superman, in which case our needles can't penetrate your skin. Plus you've probably got weird alien blood anyway.

Athens as Best I Remember It

The town of Athens is divided in to five basic geographic regions, according to the "Houses for Rent" ads in any local newspaper. These regions are: the Five Points area, the Five Points/Campus area, the Five Points/East Side area, the Five Points/Downtown area, and of course the Five Points/Highway 316 area. That may sound complicated, but navigating your way around town is quite easy, once you understand the layout of a few basic roads. First, there's Atlanta Highway, which becomes Broad street, which then turns into Oconee street for about nine feet before turning into Oak st, which then turns BACK into Oconee street before becoming Lexington, which then becomes Legion, for it is many.

Next, there's Milledge Avenue, a long road that arcs through several diverse areas of Athens. If you get lost on Milledge, there are some simple ways to figure out where you are. If you smell poop, you're on the East Side. If you smell sewage, you're closer to south campus. If there's a pickup truck in front of you that's full of guys who still think it's cool to wear a baseball cap backwards, you're on the road's "Greek" section. If you see a Baskin Robins/Dunkin' Donuts, you're at the end of Milledge, and you should pick me up a Mint Chocolate Chip shake. Note that the entire time you're on Milledge, you're still, somehow, in Five Points.

Then there's Lumpkin street. You'll find that Lumpkin is easy to recognize because it is completely undrivable. This street was once in terrible shape, but the city has fortunately decided to fix the traffic problems it created by keeping it constantly under construction, thus routing all traffic around it. This brings me to an important point about the roads I've mentioned, you should never drive on any of them. "Legion" road's identity crisis is complicated by a large amount of mall traffic, most of which stems from cars trying to turn left out of the Best Buy parking lot. Milledge is either clogged with sorority girls who can't bother to go an extra twenty feet to a crosswalk, cyclists who ride in twenty-bike groups because that makes it harder for anyone to pass them, or cars trying to turn around because they accidentally passed the Botanical Gardens entrance. In fact, the key to getting around Athens is knowing which roads will let you avoid all these major roads and any intersection between them.

The heart of Athens is, of course, the University. The leadership structure of this institution is modeled after the United States itself, using a system of checks and balances between three governing bodies: Parking Services, the Athletics Department, and the Coca-cola company. Parking Services has veto power over the Athletic Department, because at any time they could ticket the starting quarterback's car for no reason, deny his appeal to that ticket for no reason, and have his grades withheld until he paid it. The Athletic Department, in turn, has authority over Coca-cola because their football games are largely an excuse to sell Coca-cola products. To complete the circle, Coca-cola has power over Parking Services because their "attendants" would never be able to drive around in the southern heat, ticketing people for no reason, without something to drink. Coca-cola, then, maintains power by having exclusive rights to sell their beverages on campus.

The last thing you need to know about Athens are the town's highlights. The Botanical Gardens facility, full of native flora, is a beautiful place to spend an afternoon, which is unfortunate since it will be night by the time you stop passing the entrance and getting stuck behind groups of Milledge cyclists. The famous "Tree that Owns Itself" actually doesn't, so don't bother. You can pick up some local culture by visiting the Five Points/Downtown area and seeing one of Athens' 17,000 bands play. It doesn't matter which one you see, since they all play "sort of like alternative-reggae with kind of a blues vibe plus some folk and ska mixed in."

If you require any help getting to Athens, simply save up enough MyCokeRewards points to pay for tuition to the University.* Then you'll be on your way.

*MyCokeRewards points cannot be used to pay for parking tickets.

With a Nod to Hari Seldon

Do a little thought experiment with me. Imagine that far into the future, say a few hundred years, mankind finally develops time travel. The technology to do it isn't advanced enough to send a whole person back, but sufficiently powerful to transmit messages, information, that sort of thing. There would be, of course, a great deal of hesitation about using it. If "Back to the Future" taught us anything, it's that time travel is dangerous. Even if you opened a portal to Ford's Theater and shouted "Excuse me Mr. Lincoln, is that your penny on the floor?" so that Abe bent down at just the right moment, as good as your intentions might be, you could still cause some horrible chain reaction that would prevent the creation of anti-gravity skateboards.

But what if there was a crisis? What if time travel was going to be the last great achievement of the human race before complete destruction? Then those future-people would HAVE to use it in hopes of saving the world. The cost of NOT using it would simply be too great.

This situation would pose a difficult question: how does one use the past to save the present?

For the sake of this thought experiment, let's say that the crisis is something unavoidable, so you couldn't just send back a note that says "Hey, Steve, that thing you were gonna do in the lab today? Yeah, not such a good idea after all. Here are some stock tips, take them in payment for NOT creating Super-Jaundice."

And yet, this crisis would be solvable if only there were more time to work on it. Then, the real debate would be: How do we give ourselves more time?

"Wait a minute!" someone would say, "What would the world be like if we'd discovered the smallpox vaccine ten years earlier? Or if we'd had the atomic bomb at the start of World War II? Couldn't we take plans for our greatest inventions of today and send them a few hundred years into the past? That would let the great thinkers of those times move on to other problems. By the time history wound it's way to this place again, we'd have already solved this crisis!"

And the debate would begin again. What to send? Who to send it to? And after much discussion, another voice would speak up.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is getting us nowhere. The last few hundred years have brought us many great inventions, particle beams that can shoot down nuclear attacks, the green foam we used to repair the moon hole, the hybrid horse-aroos most of you rode to this meeting, but the fact remains that no single invention would have enough of an impact. Even if we had time to send all the data needed to create those things, it still wouldn't benefit EVERY great mind of the time. We need a simpler design."

"Learning, my friends, is about information. And not just the information itself, but the way we organize and access information. The people who design communication satellites, build computer databases, and train monkey messenger-bots have as much to do with scientific discovery as anyone in this room. Information. That is where our focus should be. The way to help ourselves is to help the past help itself. The best thing we can teach our ancestors is how to organize the world's information, make it accessible and useful to everyone. Only by doing that will the past arrive here with the answer."

And so the great project would be founded, the great plans laid out. The message would instruct it's recipients to form a company, use their futuristic technical knowledge to amass a fortune, use that fortune to implement their knowledge. It would tell them to begin by simply organizing data, but then spread into managing and archiving the communication between people, then create powerful tools and make them free to anyone who wants them.*

And in the last paragraph of this message, this call of desperate hope, the authors would write "We have given you all you need. Undoubtedly you will achieve great wealth and success, and don't feel bad for enjoying any of it. Just keep in mind that your first job is to further humanity and help us overcome our great challenge. We hope that you will do well, as we hope that we are right in contacting you. Please use what we have given you wisely, and don't be evil. Your friends, the future-people."

So see, I'm not crazy. Google COULD have come from the future.

*This post was written in Google Documents.

Yes, I know, like Seinfeld

Ants love Corn Pops.

I have seen a line of ants walk across a yard, up a tree, down one of the tree's branches, into a house, and then around other open boxes of cereal just to reach Corn Pops. It's like crack for ants.

I love Corn Pops too, which is why this time two years ago I spent an afternoon putting new caulk around all my kitchen windows. Stupid ants.

So recently, I was telling a friend about those ants and what they enjoyed as "part of a complete breakfast", and he joked about how I must have learned that ants love Corn Pops "the same night you learned why you shouldn't sleep in a bathtub full of cereal."

And that made me think.

If you had to sleep in a bathtub of dry cereal.

I mean if you HAD to.

What kind of cereal would you chose?

My first answer was Rice Krispies, it seems like they'd be soft, like sitting in a bean bag chair. But then I realized that they'd never hold up, even a little pressure is enough to crush Rice Krispies to powder, which is why you can't eat the last little bit in the box or you'll just wind up making brown paste in a bowl. I can't sleep in that. They'd have to vacuum the dust out of my lungs the next morning.

Honey Comb seems like it would be good and stable, and since it's basically made of Styrofoam anyway, you'd think it would cushion well. (that capital "S" is intentional, apparently Styrofoam is a registered trademark) But Honey Comb doesn't work either:
Too sticky.

It was a conundrum.

It made almost no sense.

I had to talk about it with everyone I knew.

I wrote the problem up in a Facbook post, and asked my friends for responses. The responses came, and they were amazing.

First of all, a significant portion of the respondents assumed I was talking about giant pieces of cereal. I have no idea why.

Second, the reasonings my friends came up with were fascinating, many of them aspects of the problem I hadn't even considered. No cereal would be comfortable if it's surface is too scratchy, period. It doesn't matter how many Frosted Mini-Wheats you put in there, it would still feel like sandpaper.

And what about smell? You're going to be smelling that cereal all night. You'll be smelling like that cereal the next day, too. You can't wash it off because you can't take a shower, your bathtub is full of cereal! Wouldn't you want it to be a good smell? That's a big selling point for Froot Loops camp. (Did you know it was spelled "Froot"? All these years I never noticed. What if it's secretly a subliminal thing where your subconscious gets stuck on the misspelling so some part of your brain is always thinking about Froot Loops. Wouldn't that be weird?)

There were a lot of good responses, but this is a case where the simplest answer is the best. Cheerios. Not sugary or sticky, strong enough to hold up under pressure, and each one with a fairly smooth surface. Like thousands of tiny beads.

Discussing a topic like this, one that's completely ridiculous, is an oddly intimate experience. With strangers, you talk about the mundane, the simple, the literal. You can only talk about meaningless things with good friends. So I never miss an opportunity to talk about nothing. It's a reminder that these are the people I let my guard down with, these are the people I trust.*

*Some of them made reference to the idea of eating the cereal they were sleeping in. That's gross. I'm not sure if I trust those people anymore.

Those Quotes Are Real, Too.

An Open Letter to that Crazy Lady Who Keeps Trying to Ban Harry Potter-

First, let me say this, I'm not going to argue with your reasoning. It's not that your logic is too iron-clad, or that your points are too eloquent, or that I'm simply not smart enough. It's that your perspective is so askew, I would lend you undue credibility if I bothered to challenge your ideas. Does that make sense?

Let me put it this way: what if someone walked up to you and angrily tried to convince you that Wednesday tastes like purple? How would you respond? Would you convince that person with "logic"?

"Well no, see purple isn't a flavor, it's a color. A thing can't 'taste purple' because those are linguistic artifacts of different sensory phenomena. And even if they weren't, Wednesday is just a vague temporal convention, a concept that we, as a society, agree to recognize for convenience's sake. Ideas don't have tastes, sir, nor ways of being tasted."

Do you really think that person would stop, look up for a moment, and say "Ah, yes, I see what you mean. Thank you madam, you have shown me the light"?

No, he'd probably just scream, "YOU DON'T KNOW BECAUSE YOU'RE ONE OF THE LIZARD PEOPLE!" and run away.

Similarly, if I tried to argue with you about Harry Potter being a device to lure children into witchcraft, I'd only be lending your argument some small amount of legitimacy that it doesn't deserve. Your ideas are senseless, I won't try to make sense of them, even to show that you're wrong.

Instead, I will make a more useful argument:

Point One - The Things You Are Saying Are Stupid

Point Two - Please Be Quiet

Point Three - What The **** Is Wrong With You Anyway?!

But if that is my only argument, why am I bothering to write this letter? It's because Point Three has two corollaries, which I'd like to discuss now.

Corollary One to Point Three - You Are Embarrassing the South

I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but some people think the Southern U.S. states are full of ignorant, backward, inbred people. As a southerner myself, I'd prefer that the nation recognize how many bright, reasonable people live in and love the south. And you are not helping my case.

Corollary Two to Point Three - You are Embarrassing Jesus

I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but some people think that Christianity is full of ignorant, backward, inbred people. As a Christian myself, I'd prefer that the nation recognize how many bright, reasonable people know and love Jesus. And you are not helping my case.

As luck would have it, I can provide evidence for both corollaries at once:

1. You haven't read the Harry Potter books because "they're really very long". That one speaks for itself.

2. You argued in court that witchcraft is a religion, so the books should be banned because reading them in school violates separation of church and state. You then stated your dream "that God will be welcomed back in our schools again." You did both of these things without irony.

3. According to you, the children of today "don't want the Easter Bunny's power, they want Harry's power." Now, I'm assuming that by "Easter Bunny's power" you weren't talking about the power to be a mammal that lays eggs*. Instead, I think you were referring to the power of your religious beliefs. But, since Easter was once a pagan fertility ritual that Christianity commandeered, and since the Easter Bunny itself is derived from pagan myth, you are actually telling children to embrace the power of a pagan symbol.

So in conclusion, you are accomplishing nothing, you are wasting a lot of people's valuable time, and you are actively hurting the groups you claim to represent.

For your consideration,

Sam

*making them some sort of, oh I don't know, LIZARD PEOPLE!