Art Imitating Life

A favorite pastime of mine is to contemplate the thing I am using in the current moment in time and to consider its history and its future. This may sound profound (pretentious), and maybe it is (it isn’t), but that’s not the hook for me.

What entertains me about this consideration is the ability to postulate absolute statements. For (a crude) example, as I lie here in bed writing this, I can see hair on my belly. I don’t know how long those specific hairs have been there—perhaps three months. I know they will fall out within another three months to be replaced with indistinguishable other hairs. Knowing this, I can say with almost 100% certainty that not one of the hairs that I can see on my belly right now is ever going to be the cause of my death. I am also 100% certain that they will never ever make it as far as Africa and that they will not ever be used as an intended ingredient in a dinner (or breakfast, for that matter. Lunch—we’ll see).

The other major source of amusement in this exercise is then testing these postulated absolute statements and trying to construct a scenario in which they are proven false. An example, using the first example from above, is:

As a belly hair is shed, as happens every day, it drifts into my cat’s water bowl; she laps the hair up, causing it to tickle her throat. As she is momentarily confused, she jerks backwards, directly obstructing my walking path into the kitchen, tripping me, and causing me to flail somewhat clumsily onto some sharp knives, which Emily has inadvertently placed point-up in the dishwasher, which she has (uncharacteristically) left open. One impales my eye! Instant death. Thanks a lot, belly hair.

It works for other things, too.

Number of knowings where I live. There is a finite number of times coitus will be achieved in the apartment I’m living in—by me, by all previous tenants going back to the 1920s, and over the entire span of this building’s existence as a habitable domicile. (Counterexamples: is penetration without ultimate satisfaction considered coitus? Does oral pleasure count in this tally? What if the oral pleasure did not achieve ultimate satisfaction? What if it did, but was a prelude to bigger things?)

Places where I will ride my bike. I will never ride my bike underwater. (Counterexample: oh god! What horrible scenario must I have gotten myself into so that I am riding a bike underwater? Surely some sort of gangster has forced me to flee from him and this, in a state of panic, seems the best, most logical course of escape.)

You get the picture. This works on literally anything you can think of. (Counterexample: some badass temporally-independent thing whose fundamental characteristics change in order to prove jackass amateur philosophers wrong.)

*Please do not read this as bragging. This is a complaint, at best.
**Probably facts, as far as anyone knows.

Sort of in response to Conner and then Emily’s posts about what sort of bar they’d like to operate, and in light of this morning’s commute, I would like to share some of my thoughts about the kind of office I’d run if it were up to me.

Armchairs. I always find I do my best work when I’m sitting in one of my armchairs. I would like to bring this into my work environment.

Bigass windows. I love to look out a window, and that enjoyment is increased with the size of the window. Also, natural light is a natural source of happiness and relaxation. Natural light is important.

Full kitchen. This is for breakfast. You can’t buy a decent breakfast for less than $10, and I’m not made of money. (Alternately, since the idea is that perhaps I am the proprietor of this office, I didn’t get rich by spending $10 on breakfast.) I will roll into the office 30 minutes early and cook biscuits and gravy for myself and all my coworkers using the full kitchen.

Liquor at 3 pm. Let’s not be prudes, here. Sometimes I work better when I have an ounce or two of Scotch in me. Sometimes productivity rises midway into a Guinness. And hey! Why not do like the Red Stag does and put a shot or two of espresso in that Guinness? Relaxing and stimulating. This is what we all need at 3 pm, and it’s the prudes and jerks of the world who prevent us from having it.

Downtown. My plan is to stay in the Twin Cities, and the public transit system in the area is exceedingly downtown-centric. So, my office will be directly at or within three blocks of most major bus lines, which my house will also be at or within three blocks of.

Oh no! The president has been kidnapped by ALIENS! They are holding him hostage and they will only let him go when you tell them which is the best place to get pizza in Minneapolis: Pizza Lucé or Punch Pizza!

And you have to answer! THE PRESIDENT’S LIFE IS AT STAKE!

Inquiring minds want to know! Who would win in an ALL OUT BATTLE BETWEEN…

SNAKE

and

SPIDER

I’m a big fan of the superest of the Supergroups, the Traveling Wilburys. For those of you not in the know, the Traveling Wilburys were Bob Dylan, Tom Petty, George Harrison, Roy Orbison, and Jeff Lynne (some dude from ELO. I don’t know. I’ve never heard of him either). They made exceptional music in which ever style they decided to grace with their attention. Plus, they had a great sense of humor: they released two albums, Traveling Wilburys Volume 1 and Traveling Wilburys Volume 3. There was no Volume 2. Doesn’t that drive you a little nuts? I love it.

I was recently listening to Under Pressure by David Bowie and Queen, and I thought “You know what, David Bowie and Freddie Mercury should have formed a Supergroup.” They would have been an excellent core. Here is who I think should have been in the group:

David Bowie

Freddie Mercury

Robert Plant

Meat Loaf

Bob Seger (because you need one guy no one cares about and his voice would work well in this mix)

This could have been a Supergroup to rival the Traveling Wilburys. They could have had street rumbles and nobody would know who would win.

Which just leaves one thing: they need a name. What is your idea?

Who would you take out? Who would you put in?

I figure every good blog has something they do on a regular basis. So, in an effort to be a good blog, I present to you this week’s Hypothetical Battle:

Star Trek LeVar Burton

VERSUS

Reading Rainbow LeVar Burton

Here are the rules:

In the comments section, explain who wins in a fight and why. That means show your work! You should also define what makes “victory.” For example, is victory the person who can get the others to read the most books? Or is it a more traditional idea of who kills the other first? You decide! And say how it happens.

(PS: Yes, I did do this same hypothetical fight in my now-defunct LiveJournal about three years ago.)

(And also my friend Sam came up with the idea)