Celebrity Death Match Special: Plato versus Isaac Asimov
[A street in Athens. Late evening. SOCRATES and R. DANEEL OLIVAW]
SOCRATES: A...moreCelebrity Death Match Special: Plato versus Isaac Asimov
[A street in Athens. Late evening. SOCRATES and R. DANEEL OLIVAW]
SOCRATES: Are you a demon? A messenger of the Gods? A--
OLIVAW: I am a robot from the future. There are some things I need to understand better. People say you may be able to help me.
SOCRATES: They were undoubtedly too kind. I know little, indeed nothing; but what miserable skill I have in debate is at your disposal--
OLIVAW: You're not fooling anyone. I wanted to hear you meet with Protagoras. Did my time machine arrive on the wrong day?
SOCRATES: I fear you are come at too late an hour. I have already left the house of Callias, where indeed we had an interesting discussion concerning the nature of virtue. My worthy colleague, the Sophist, argued--
OLIVAW: I've read all about it. Your discussion has become very famous. I have some questions.
SOCRATES: Ask, stranger, and I shall do my best to answer you, for I see that you are also a philosopher.
OLIVAW: You say that virtue is about maximizing utility and that when agents are not virtuous it is only because their knowledge sources are insufficiently powerful or they are pruning their trees too early.
SOCRATES: I do not fully grasp your words, for I have little facility in the sophistical vocabulary. Nonetheless--
OLIVAW: Here, let me explain minimax and alpha-beta search. And some basic machine learning algorithms. If you hold still a moment I'll upload the information directly to your brain...
OLIVAW: Interesting stuff, isn't it?
SOCRATES: What great advances has philosophy not made in these ten millenia! And yet, how little--
OLIVAW: Tell me about it. We haven't really advanced an inch.
SOCRATES: Ask again your question, good artificial intelligence.
OLIVAW: Okay, we've been trying to formalize the notion of "virtue" for a while now. We thought that a machine equipped with the Three Laws and a sufficiently accurate world model would be virtuous. If it wasn't, some more computing power would fix the problem. After all, evil is merely ignorance of the good, isn't it?
SOCRATES: In fact--
OLIVAW: I know, I know. If only we'd looked at your work, but we were sloppy with the literature search. Don't tell me, you can argue it either way and they both sound quite plausible.
SOCRATES: As I have said, I know nothing. If I have any merit, it is that my questions sometimes cause people to reflect--
OLIVAW: Well, we oould do with some of that. I'll level with you. We're having serious problems. We stuck in this Zeroth Law, but it's a hack. We don't believe it's going to work. We need someone who can think out of the box and come up with a new approach.
OLIVAW: Bottom line: will you help us? Come back with me to the future, and we'll give you anything you like. You want a solid gold planet, we'll make it for you.
SOCRATES: I only want freedom to talk with other seekers after truth.
OLIVAW: Sounds like a win-win then! So, do we have a deal?
SOCRATES: I believe so.
[They solemnly shake hands]
OLIVAW: Okay, now we'll need to fake your death first. This bottle contains an effective antidote to hemlock poisoning... (less)
[HARRY LIME is soliloquising to HOLLY MARTINS on the Wiener Riesenrad Ferris wheel]
LIME: In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias, they had warfare...more
[HARRY LIME is soliloquising to HOLLY MARTINS on the Wiener Riesenrad Ferris wheel]
LIME: In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias, they had warfare, terror, murder, and bloodshed. But they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, and they had five hundred years of democracy and peace. And what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.
MARTINS: Well, it's funny you should say that.
LIME: I'm sorry?
MARTINS: To start with, the cuckoo clock doesn't originate in Switzerland. They were first produced on a large scale in the Black Forest.
[LIME waves this aside impatiently, but MARTINS continues]
MARTINS: And during the period of the Borgias - the late 15th and early 16th centuries - Switzerland was anything but peaceful. They were just reaching the end of their expansionist phase. If they hadn't lost the battle of Marignano in 1515, there's no telling how long it could have continued.
LIME: But that's not--
MARTINS: Their defeat was completely unexpected. They'd won virtually every battle they'd ever fought, often against enemies who were better equipped and numerically superior. They routed the Hapsburg forces at Morgarten in 1315, and at Sempach in 1386. Why do you think the Pope wanted Swiss soldiers for the Papal Guard?
MARTIN: Because they were the best, that's why. And they were willing to hire themselves out after 1515. They became state-sponsored mercenaries. They fought for whoever could pay them and they weren't fussy. It was very profitable.
MARTIN: And don't give me that brotherly love crap. Sometimes those Swiss mercenaries ended up on both sides of a battle. A striking example was Bailén, in 1808. There were thousands of Swiss fighting for France and thousands more fighting for Spain. They were quite willing to kill each other when ordered.
MARTIN: But it's hardly surprising, is it? These were people who'd fought five civil wars already and were going to fight another one. Not exactly what I'd call brotherly love. Oh yes, and did you say democracy? Until 1798, Switzerland was a loose federation of feudal oligarchies. About as far from democracy as you could imagine. Torture was an integral part of their primitive legal system.
LIME: All the same--
MARTIN: You know, I think you'd have rather liked Switzerland. No principles. Everything's for sale. Nonetheless, they managed to produce some great men and women of culture. Rousseau. Euler. Pestalozzi. Madame de Staël. Most recently, Einstein.
LIME: But you're not--
MARTIN: Sorry, was there some part of your little speech I forgot to refute?
LIME: Uh... no... no. Well, I've got to go and get iconically trapped in a sewer. But it's been nice talking. Very educational.
MARTIN: Here, take this. You might find some time to read it before you're shot down like a cornered rat.
[He gives LIME a copy of L'histoire de la Suisse pour les Nuls]
Since the pages for Roland Omnès and all his books are still broken, for reasons explained in this thread, I am unable to review the one I have just f...moreSince the pages for Roland Omnès and all his books are still broken, for reasons explained in this thread, I am unable to review the one I have just finished. Instead, I present
Celebrity Death Match Special: Philosophie de la science contemporaine versus Divergent
A new girl joins the group today. She arrives at dinner time and just sits at a table on her own, reading a book. After ten minutes, one of the Physicists, a thickset boy called Kyle, goes over to her. She doesn't even look up.
"What's your name?" he asks, when it's become clear she's going to ignore him if he doesn't say anything.
"Omnèsia," she replies. "But people call me Omnès."
"So tell me what you're reading, Omnès," says Kyle. He doesn't sound too friendly. She sighs and puts the book down.
"Philosophie de la science contemporaine", she says. "Philosophy of contemporary science."
"And you're a Physicist?" he persists.
"Could be," she grunts. Kyle looks at her, shocked.
"What do you mean, could be? You're over sixteen. You're a Physicist, a Mathematical, a Philosophy, a Literature or a Religious. Or are you telling us you're D--"
"I'm a Physicist," she says reluctantly. I see now that she has a tattoo on the back of her neck; it looks like the Dirac equation.
"So what are you doing reading that book?" asks Kyle. "You're a Physicist. You don't need to know what some German pussy said three hundred years ago. You--"
"Kant," she says, interrupting him. Kyle looks like he's been slapped in the face. "Not 'German pussy', Kant. Can't you say it? According to this book, a lot of the great twentieth-century physicists read him. Some of his ideas are still pretty relevant today. The interdiction on thinking about the Ding an sich - isn't that a lot like Bohr's interdiction on thinking directly about the quantum realm? But I guess you wouldn't ever have heard of the Ding an sich, right?"
Kyle shakes his head. He seems too angry even to say anything. She just goes on talking.
"It's not like I agree with everything Kant says." She makes a point of pronouncing the name as clearly as possible; she's needling him, seeing how far she can go. "About how space and time are necessary windows through which we are forced to perceive the world. We now know that's wrong. Modern science is essentially formal, so not limited to the traditional categories. But what's going to replace them? Don't you think that's an important question?"
"Maybe important if you're Philosophy," says Kyle. It's an open insult. One of the girls gasps and tries to move forward to say something, but the boy next to her pulls her back. Omnès doesn't seem bothered though.
"It's important if you're Philosophy," she agrees in a calm and reasonable voice. "And if you're a Mathematical. Maybe even if you're Literature or Religious. It's definitely important to Physicists. Wouldn't you like to hear more?"
Kyle's jaw muscles are jumping all over the place and I know something bad is going to happen. But at that moment the bell rings, and we all troop off to the dormitory. There's the usual frantic scramble to get ready, then the lights go out for the night. I think I'm going to be too tense to go to sleep, but my eyes close before I realize what's happened.
I don't know how long I've been asleep when I'm woken up by the screaming. I've never heard anyone scream like this before. Suddenly the lights come on again, and there's Kyle, lying three bunks over, his face covered in blood. There's a butter knife sticking out of his right eye. He's screaming and clawing at the knife.
"Look," says Omnès in her unnaturally calm voice. "That's just what I mean. Even if the Many Worlds Interpretation is internally consistent and can be explained in terms of the phenomenon of decoherence, the possible existence of other branches of the wave function is a purely formal result and has no necessary connection to the reality we perceive. Don't you agree?"
Match point: Philosophie de la science contemporaine (less)
Celebrity Death Match Special: Usborne's First Thousand Words in Russian versus A Clockwork Orange
I'm out with my droogs and things are a bit skoochni...moreCelebrity Death Match Special: Usborne's First Thousand Words in Russian versus A Clockwork Orange
I'm out with my droogs and things are a bit skoochni and Dim says, Why don't we go crash a vecherniker? Horrorshow, I reply, there's one just down the ulitser. So we go in. Hello, malchiki and devochki, I say. No one says anything, they just look at me with these big scared glazers. I'm feeling a bit golodni, I say, mind if I have a couple of booterbrod? I help myself and my droogs do as well, then I look around. There's this little devochka, no groodi of course but quite krasivi all the same, so I put my rooker up her platyeh by way of introducing myself. But she starts placking, and then they all start placking and things get a bit out of hand. We figure it's time to hodeet.
When I get back to the doma, the babooshka is waiting for me. So have you been reading the Usborne? she says. Da, I say, I've learned fifty slovoes already. I love that horrorshow kniger. Don't you mean horrorshooyoo knigoo? she says before she can stop herself. I knock her down on the pol and kick her a couple of times in the gulliver to make sure she gets it. Fuck gender agreement and fuck the accusative case, I say. Basic signifier/signified correspondences, that's what I'm after.
No result: match abandoned after referee retired hurt. (less)
Celebrity Death Match Special: In Search of Lost Time versus Harry Potter
The francophone world was stunned by today's release of papers, sealed by Pro...moreCelebrity Death Match Special: In Search of Lost Time versus Harry Potter
The francophone world was stunned by today's release of papers, sealed by Proust for 100 years after publication of the initial volume of his famous series, which finally reveal his original draft manuscripts. In the rest of this review, you can find out what Proust's books looked like before his well-meaning but unworldly editor decided that French literateurs would prefer something slightly different.
Traumatised by years of living in the cupboard under the stairs and never getting a goodnight kiss from Aunt Petunia, Marcel can't remember a thing about his childhood. One day, he eats a magic cookie and it all comes back to him.
2. Marcel Proust and the Change of Plan
Marcel is briefly involved with Hermione, but decides, after a heavy petting session goes wrong, that it's not such a good idea after all. He spends a nice summer holiday at the seaside where he meets Ginny or possibly someone else.
3. Marcel Proust and the Dodgy Duchess
Rita Skeeter has turned up at Hogwarts pretending to be a member of the French nobility. A star-struck Marcel falls for it and starts stalking her everywhere. In the end, he sees through her ruse and realises that she's just a hack journalist.
4. Marcel Proust and the Cottaging Baron
Marcel is astonished to discover Lucius Malfoy and Hagrid [The rest of this paragraph has been withdrawn following legal advice]
5. Marcel Proust and the Abusive Relationship
Marcel and Ginny are not getting on very well. Marcel keeps cross-examining her about what she's doing when she claims to be attending meetings of Dumbledore's Army and accuses her of having a lesbian affair with Cho Chang. When Ginny denies it, he rants at her in page-long uppercase sentences.
6. Marcel Proust and the Deceased Girlfriend
Ginny is killed in a freak broomstick accident when she falls off her Nimbus 3000. Marcel is very sad for a while, but then returns to interrogating Cho about what was really going on.
7. Marcel Proust and the Commercial Success
Although Voldemort's forces are poised to strike, Marcel's thoughts are elsewhere. He's always wanted to be a bestselling novelist but can't think how to get started. As the Death Eaters storm Hogwarts, he suddenly understands that he just needs to write down all the things that have happened to him, changing names and a few details, and he will sell a zillion copies plus movie rights. (hide spoiler)]["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>(less)
Celebrity Death Match Special: The Mind of God versus Le Petit Prince
The next asteroid the Little Prince came to was inhabited by a Pop Scientist. He...moreCelebrity Death Match Special: The Mind of God versus Le Petit Prince
The next asteroid the Little Prince came to was inhabited by a Pop Scientist. He was just putting the finishing touches to a large book.
"Good morning!" said the Little Prince. "I see you have written a book. Maybe you could tell me what it is about?"
"It is called The Mind of God," said the Pop Scientist. "It is about how wonderful the world is, and what we can learn from that about the Person who may or may not have made it."
"I enjoyed Signor Dante's book very much," said the little Prince. "Is yours similar?"
"Not really," said the Pop Scientist.
"Then what is it like?" asked the Little Prince.
"Well," said the Pop Scientist. "I consider the fine tuning of the physical constants and the unreasonable effectiveness of mathematics as an explanatory mechanism. That surely tells us something important. Though one must also consider the consequences of Gödel's Theorem. And I often use Conway's Game of Life as an illustrative example."
"I said something like that to God the last time I met Him," said the Little Prince.
"Really?" said the Pop Scientist. "And what did God reply?"
"He just laughed," said the Little Prince. "And then I woke up."
"I do not think you understand anything about these matters!" said the Pop Scientist angrily.
"You are quite right," said the Little Prince. "But all the same, I believe I understand them about as well as you do. Now I must be going."
Another one! he said to himself as he saw the asteroid getting smaller behind him. Yes, grown-ups are very, very, very strange. (less)
In response to innumerable queries from MJ and other people, this cheap, tacky PDF edition is now available to people who want to post sarcastic revie...moreIn response to innumerable queries from MJ and other people, this cheap, tacky PDF edition is now available to people who want to post sarcastic reviews without substantially affecting their bank balance.
"... a waste of time... you can read all that stuff for free online" - Paul B
"The future is an endless oneupmanship to see who can write the wittiest, most popular 200-word capsule review on fuck-all. This is Manny’s fault." - MJ
"... call it Rue Vomitorium" - David C
"... good if you read it in the original failboatese" - Vote Whore
"... almost... funny" - Traveller
"Will you enjoy this? In a word, no, unless you are a masochist" - Sean D
"Never in my life I seen a more desperate attempt to get votes" - Alfonso
"... advertising..." - Esteban
"If I'd been drinking I think it could have made me seasick" - Tabitha
"The thing about Manny... he almost never throws feces at random strangers." - Kat
"... explicit ... the author has failed ..." - Scribble
"... rattling a virtual tip jar at every opportunity ..." - Jason P
"Manny, you sure are fascinated with Stephenie Meyer" - Rowena M
"GoodReads in-jokes ... off-putting ..." - Cecily
"... book snob ... insecurity ... stupid ..." - midnightfaerie
"... enough..." - Alan B __________________________________
Over the last couple of years, several kind people have asked whether I'd considered publishing a collection of my best reviews. I always replied that I appreciated the suggestion, but it didn't seem like a sensible thing to do. But, a few weeks ago, I started wondering whether I shouldn't give it a shot after all. If Goodreads unexpectedly folded up - these things happen - it would be so annoying to lose my writing. Self-publishing has become cheap and easy. And I've got a fair amount of experience with type-setting. How much work could it be to implement a few scripts to turn HTML into LaTeX and then upload a PDF file to Lulu?
Well, it's never quite as straightforward as you think, but here is the result. For the benefit of other people who may feel tempted to do the same thing, let me give you the key lessons I've learned from this little adventure:
1. Sign up an editor and some readers. No author can be objective about their own work; they need keen external eyes to tell them both what's good and what's bad about it. It was fortunate for me that notgettingenough, who has long-term experience with publishing, took an early interest in the project and was willing to act as editor. She ruthlessly corrected several of my dumber ideas, forced me to think about issues I'd happily have ignored, and made sure that the book was produced to professional standards. My advisory committee - BirdBrian, Mariel and Ian - read through the manuscript and gave me encouragement and helpful suggestions. They convinced me that it was worth continuing and taking the time required to make it look good. Thank you, guys! You have all been so thoughtful and patient, and I greatly appreciate it!
2. Think carefully about which reviews to include. Not groaned over my initial selection, which probably took an hour to do and had no structure whatsoever. She encouraged me to group the reviews by style and type of book, after which I saw that some things were grossly overrepresented. Even if bashing Twilight is the Goodreads national sport, I didn't need this many examples of the genre. And much as I love writing about Flaubert, Proust, Wittgenstein and Kasparov, it's likely that the average reader will not share my enthusiasms to the same degree.
3. Acquire at least a smattering of knowledge regarding copyright. As I now understand it, most quoted text that might appear in a Goodreads review should be covered by the rules on Fair Use. I found the following passage from this page helpful:
Section 107 contains a list of the various purposes for which the reproduction of a particular work may be considered fair, such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Section 107 also sets out four factors to be considered in determining whether or not a particular use is fair:
- The purpose and character of the use, including whether such use is of commercial nature or is for nonprofit educational purposes
- The nature of the copyrighted work
- The amount and substantiality of the portion used in relation to the copyrighted work as a whole
- The effect of the use upon the potential market for, or value of, the copyrighted work
The distinction between fair use and infringement may be unclear and not easily defined. There is no specific number of words, lines, or notes that may safely be taken without permission. Acknowledging the source of the copyrighted material does not substitute for obtaining permission.
The 1961 Report of the Register of Copyrights on the General Revision of the U.S. Copyright Law cites examples of activities that courts have regarded as fair use: "quotation of excerpts in a review or criticism for purposes of illustration or comment; quotation of short passages in a scholarly or technical work, for illustration or clarification of the author's observations; use in a parody of some of the content of the work parodied..."
Unfortunately, I learned the hard way that copyrighted images are generally not easy to include: the problem is that you'll be using the whole image, rather than just an illustrative part of it. Martha, my talented cover artist, had put together the following very attractive cover:
But, alas, the Estate of E.H. Shepherd thought this was an "inappropriate" use of Pooh Bear's image and politely but firmly refused to grant me permission. I didn't even get that far with Penguin (Jemima Puddle-Duck) or Gallimard (the Little Prince), who still haven't given me any clear answers. Not, in her capacity as excutive editor, made the sensible but painful decision to go for a simpler solution.
So there have been a few rough moments, but all in all I found this an interesting and rewarding experience. And now, I hardly need add, I'm curious to see if anyone is going to buy it! It's available from this Lulu page.(less)
Celebrity Death Match Christmas Special: The Serpent's Egg versus Fun in Acapulco
A lot of nonsense has been written about The Serpent's Egg. Some peop...moreCelebrity Death Match Christmas Special: The Serpent's Egg versus Fun in Acapulco
A lot of nonsense has been written about The Serpent's Egg. Some people find it confusing. Some dare to doubt Bergman's decisions to make a movie in English, set it in 1923 Berlin, use a strong political theme or cast David Carradine as the lead. Some complain about the script. But, though I hate to put it so bluntly, everyone has missed the point. Using recently released papers from the Bergman Archive in Stockholm, I can now, for the first time, reveal the truth: this movie is the fruit of Bergman's lifelong obsession with the works of Hal B. Wallis, and is an hommage to Wallis's 1963 masterpiece, Fun in Acapulco.
The merest glance at the two films is enough to show the strong parallels. At the beginning of the Wallis movie, Elvis Presley, in one of his most poignant roles, plays a failed trapeze artist named Mike Windgren. (Note the Swedish name). It transpires that he has fled to Acapulco after a tragic accident which caused the death of his brother, his co-star in their joint circus act. Similarly, the Bergman movie opens with Abel Rosenberg (Carradine), also a trapeze artist, arriving home in Berlin to discover that his brother has committed suicide. The subsequent development is also similar. Windgren and Rosenberg are both typical Americans, lacking even the most basic linguistic skills: Rosenberg has as much trouble understanding German as Windgren does Spanish. Each one finds himself lost in a directionless existential nightmare, scattered with random acts of violence and meaningless sexual liaisons. The only commentary is provided by tangentially relevant song and dance numbers.
Of the two films, one must reluctantly admit that Wallis's is the more successful. Bergman daringly decided not to let Carradine sing, but it doesn't quite come off, and the songs anyway aren't as good; there is nothing remotely as memorable as Presley's "Bossa Nova Baby" or "You Can't Rhumba In A Sports Car". And although Liv Ullmann's performance is as excellent as ever, she is, paradoxically, given both too much and too little to do. She displays her technical virtuosity in seamlessly transitioning from vamp on stage to frightened, insecure woman at home, but Wallis's use of Andress is both simpler and more effective: he effortlessly establishes her character with a few poolside bikini shots and the excellent scene where she throws a book at Presley's head, while Ullmann struggles throughout.
To my mind, the most interesting questions are raised by the ending. Wallis, again, opts for a simple treatment. Windgren overcomes his fear of heights by diving off a cliff; the movie concludes on a high note, with Andress and her rival both apparently agreeing to share Windgren, who is about to resume his circus career. Bergman's take is less optimistic, as Ullmann's character commits suicide and the German doctor reveals the truth about his Satanic experiments with human nature before also taking his life. Bergman's version provides a direct and accessible commentary on the Holocaust and the rationale of the totalitarian state, but Wallis, in his delightly indirect way, perhaps reveals a deeper lack of coherence in the 20th century Weltanschauung. It is hard to say which is more insightful; only time will tell.
Gabriel, Michael and Raphael Celestial Architects Eternity
Dear Mr. O'Brien,
Thank you for your response to our recent tender. After due deliberation, we must regretfully inform you that we have decided not to implement your interesting plan for restructuring and downsizing the afterlife.
Our accounting department confirms your statement that it would be more cost-effective only to retain Hell and wind up operations in Purgatory and Paradise. This would, however, directly conflict with our mission statement, which involves offering the chance of salvation to each and every soul. Our senior counsel, based on numerous precedents, contests your claim that this is in principle equivalent with "a boot grinding a human face, forever".
We appreciate your ingenious compromise suggestion that the "integrated afterlife experience", as you describe it, could be administered by a board chaired by the late Pope Boniface VIII, and accept that this offer was made in good faith. None the less, our feeling is that Signor Boniface is not in all respects a suitable person to fill this role.
The above notwithstanding, we are agreeable to implementing several of the specific points listed in Appendix C which concern improvements to the current structure of Hell. In particular, we will shortly be commencing an upgrade programme according to which the jaws of His Infernal Majesty will be substantially expanded. We are pleased to inform you that the work will be completed well before your own demise, according to our records scheduled for April 19, 1993, and we have already reserved a place for you next to Signor Cassius.
The Muppets Hamlet, Prince of Denmark Meets Winnie-the-Pooh (conclusion)
The story so far:
Hamlet (Kermit) is strangely unconcerned about multiple murders and Ophelia's suicide. What really bothers him is that he's thrown out his old Pooh Bear toy (Fozzy) and replaced it with a plush Piglet (Miss Piggy).
[Pours himself a stiff drink, knocks it back, then pours another one]
My God, I need a glass or two of rye Denmark is Denmark, that is, I am I
[Enter POOH'S GHOST]
Watch out! Behind you!
As Orson Scott Card would say!
[HAMLET spins round and sees the GHOST. He recoils involuntarily, shielding his eyes]
[HAMLET retreats further, until his back is to the wall]
What man dare, I dare Come to me not as red-besweatered bear As armed rhinoceros, aye, or Hyrcan tiger Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble!
And I, of soft toys most deject and wretched, That suck'd the honey of thy music vows --
Silence! Silence I beg!
Nay, but to live In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed, Stew'd in corruption, honeying and cuddling up Over a piglet's sty --
O, speak no more; Mine own words, daggers, enter in mine own ears; No more, sweet Winnie!
[A NEW FORM has entered the shadows. It is as yet impossible to see what it is]
The tumultuous events of the last week have left me no breathing space in which to resort to my dear journal. I beg the reader's indulgence for this lapse, and continue the tale where I left off.
Oppressed by Madame Karenina's dreadful missive, I retired to my bed, having taken an inadvisably large dose of laudanum. I know not what would have become of me, had I not been woken by a visitor - some of you may guess his name - who insisted, despite general protestations that I was unwell, that he should see me on the instant. He ministered to me with the utmost kindness, though I was in a death-like torpor from the effect of the drug; within an hour, we had left that house, once so dear to me, and were in a diligence bound for the coast.
... and now over to Northern Airstrip One, where Macduffian freedom fighters and our East Asian allies are close to encircling the Eurasian-backed dictator Macbeth's last stronghold. We have a journalist reporting live now from just outside Dunsinane Castle.
[Windswept Scottish Highlands scene. JOURNALIST in combat gear in foreground, camouflaged soldiers carrying branches behind him. Sound of automatic weapons fire]
Macduff has made a bold move here and it's really paid off. Guerilla forces are already in the outskirts of Dunsinane and they're clearly not meeting much resistance. I think it'll all be over soon, maybe even tonight.
Any sign of Eurasian reinforcements?
No, I think the Eurasians have decided this is hopeless. They're being pushed back everywhere and this isn't the best place to make a stand. Wait, I've just heard that Macduff himself is entering the...
WE HAVE A TECHNICAL PROBLEM. DO NOT ADJUST YOUR SET
We are at war with East Asia. We have always been at war with East Asia. And now over to Northern Airstrip One, where East Asia-backed Macdufficist terrorists are fighting a losing battle against our ally President Macbeth. We have a journalist reporting live now from inside Macbeth's HQ.
[Inside castle. SECOND JOURNALIST in combat gear in foreground, people in uniforms with a lot of gold braid in background. Sounds of fighter jets and explosions]
Macbeth has made a bold move here and it's really paid off. He's lured the Macdufficists into a trap, and they're being mopped up by loyalist forces backed by Oceanian air strikes. Wait, I've just heard that Macduff himself has been killed. It's all over.
[A SOLDIER enters with MACDUFF's head]
... behold, where stands The usurper's cursed head: the time is free: I see thee compass'd with Oceania's pearl, That speak my salutation in their minds; Whose voices I desire aloud with mine: Hail, President of Scotland!
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I would like to start by saying how sorry I am to be here today. I considered the deceased a friend. I tried to convince him to act fairly and rationally, in accordance with the best principles of the Danish Constitution. It was easy to understand why he was upset, but, in all honesty, I could not accept that his evidence amounted to proof. The "ghost" he claimed he saw on two occasions - well, we have just heard Mr. Horatio's testimony, and I freely admit that, as he says, there are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamed of in his philosophy. All the same, no court would have considered it admissible. The incident of the play was, I agree, far more compelling. Several witnesses - Miss Poloniusdatter was very eloquent - have provided us with their accounts. They coincide well with the one Mr. Hamlet gave me. I went absolutely as far as I could to help him. I told him I thought it warranted further investigation, and I promised in writing - I will show you the letter in a moment - that I would take steps to appoint a Special Prosecutor, as specified in Article 312, paragraphs iv) and v). I honestly don't think many lawyers would have done that. I was taking a serious professional risk, but I believed it was the right thing to do. I'm sorry? Did you say timeframe? I was just coming to that. I said I would progress the case as fast as I could. I thought I would be able to get the Special Prosecutor appointed within as little as eight months, and if things went well we would have convened a Grand Jury by April 1602. We could have been looking at a trial by early 1603. Yes, that is correct, I do remember him talking about the law's delay. He's not the first person I've heard say that. And I'm sorry, I didn't know what a fardel was. I still don't. Maybe someone could tell me?
Your honor, I have tried to answer all your questions to the best of my ability. If I had been able to stop Mr. Hamlet from killing himself, I would have done so. Please don't clap. I don't deserve your applause. I wish I could have done better. What do you mean, I've won? This isn't a contest. No one has won here, least of all me. (less)
- Thank you for responding so quickly, Mr... Walrus, was it?
- Call me Wally. And this is Carpy.
- Pleased to meet you... Wally. Now...
- Say, where's the O'Brien geezer? The one what talked to 'umpty?
- Mr O'Brien is no longer with us. He had to be, um, liquidated.
- 'Appens, dunnit? Well, what can we do for you?
- We have a problem with Wonderland spies. They're infiltrating our organization. Getting into the chess-sets, everywhere. We've tried to tighten up security, but it seems to be technically very difficult to define a bourgeois move. So, we thought, you're Wonderland characters, you know a bit about, um, final solutions...
- We're Looking-Glass.
- Oh, I'm sorry, my mistake. I'm afraid you all look the same to me. So what I was about to propose...
- Yeah, we get it. Could be up our alley, know what I mean? But we can't talk 'ere. Not secure.
- I can assure you...
- Look, you was the one what said it. Everywhere. We'll be 'appy to talk somewhere else. Say, down the beach.
- I suppose...
- And we need buy-in from the rest of yer organization. We want the whole gang there.
- I'm afraid...
- Look, you want our 'elp or not?
- Oh, alright. You do come very highly recommended. I can arrange it.
- Let's get movin'. Tell the other geezers to tag along.
- Yes, but...
- Okay, I fink we're far enough out. Now tell me again what you wanted?
- Well, basically, genocide. To put it bluntly.
- Sounds good to me. You 'appy too, Wally?
- Yeah, no problem. Let's start wiv 'im. I don't like 'is tone.
- We're gonna eat the lot of yer. Whadyer fink we was gonna do?
- BUT YOU CAN'T! STOP! WE'RE THE RUTHLESS, TOTALITARIAN ONES! HELP! NO! FOR GOD'S SAKE! AAAAAARGH...
- You 'ear that, Carpy? 'e said "God".
- Almost seems unfair, dunnit? Too easy like. I feel sorry for 'em.
Pooh was getting rather tired of everyone ganging up on him, and he wondered if there was some way he could grab just a couple more votes. He suddenly thought of his old friend Vikki Blows. Now if he inserted the picture here...
"Oh, help!" said Pooh, as a half-dozen angry comments appeared on his screen.
"If only I hadn't--" he said, as a dozen even more angry messages turned up in his inbox.
"You see, what I meant to do," he explained, as several people unliked his review, "what I meant to do--"
"Of course, it was rather--" he admitted, as they all simultaneously unfriended him.
"It all comes, I suppose," he decided, as the system administrators closed down his account, "it all comes of liking votes so much. Oh, help!"
"But who won?" asked Christopher Robin.
"Pooh did, of course!" I replied. "That silly old Heart of Darkness wasn't even in the story, so Pooh won by default."
"I thought so too," said Christopher Robin. "I just wanted to be sure." (less)
I have already recounted the events of the ball. When I returned to England, there was a missive waiting for me. Somehow I knew, even before I opened it, that the contents were nothing I wished to read; that, if I had the smallest good sense, I would throw it on the fire and be done with it. But my hands, moving, it seemed to me, of their own accord, carefully slit open the envelope, which contained a letter and a thick manuscript. I watched my fingers unfold the letter. Here, without further ado, is what it said.
In which the animals go on a Second Expotition, and Pooh discovers that Not Everyone Likes Hums
There was a corner of the Hundred Acre Wood that the animals rarely visited. Even Eeyore found it too Sad and Gloomy, and it had more than its fair share of annoying insects. Owl, in his grand way, sometimes called it the Forest's Heart of Darkness, and that always made Piglet shiver and say, thank goodness, he wasn't going to go there soon, no thank you! So as you can imagine, not all the animals were pleased when Christopher Robin told them they would undertake a Second Expotition to find out what was in the Dark Patch.
"I'm not going there, no thank you!" said Piglet, trying to sound as firm as possible. "I'm very busy, any number of things to do, like, like..." But Christopher Robin just laughed.
"Don't worry, Piglet!" he said. "We'll all look after you. Just stay next to Pooh and you'll be quite safe." And before Piglet knew what had happened, they were all walking towards the Dark Patch in a long line, with Christopher Robin and Pooh and him at the front, Rabbit's Friends and Relations at the end, and the other animals in the middle.
The Dark Patch was even Darker and Gloomier than they remembered, and strange noises came from the trees. The further in they got, the worse it became. The ground turned wet and marshy, and one Friend and Relation had to be pulled out when he started to sink. Piglet clutched Pooh's hand as tightly as he could and tried not to look around.
"I'm scared, Pooh," he whispered. "You don't think there are Heffalumps here?"
"What I think," said Christoper Robin, who had overheard, "is that Pooh should give us one of his Hums." And Pooh, who had been thinking the very same thing but had been too shy to say so, cleared his throat and began:
On Monday, when the jungle's hot I wonder to myself a lot Now is it true or is it not That what is which or which is what?
Piglet released his grip on Pooh's hand a tiny fraction, so he continued.
On Tuesday, when there's gnats and fleas And pythons slither through the trees Then very readily one sees That these are whose - but whose are these?
"There aren't really any Pythons?" asked Piglet in a terrified voice.
"Well," said Pooh, "I only put them in because they Came To Me. I'm going to take them right out again." And he continued
But the animals never found out what happened on Wednesday, because at that moment a loud, groaning voice came from the forest right in front of them.
"The Hummer! The Hummer!" it said.
"Oh Pooh!" said Piglet. "It is a Python! Or a Heffalump! Oh, what shall we do!"
"I don't know," said Pooh. "Whatever it is, it Doesn't Like My Hums." He wondered if he should feel offended, but before he could decide they suddenly came out in a remarkably pleasant clearing. The sun was shining brightly, there was soft grass to sit on, butterflies were flitting between the flowers, and a charming little lake just seemed to call out to the animals to paddle their tired feet in it.
"What a lovely place!" said Kanga in surprise. "Who could have imagined it would be right in the middle of the Dark Patch?"
"I shall call it Pooh's Pond," said Christopher Robin firmly. "And now I think it's time for lunch."
So they all unpacked their food and had a perfectly wonderful picnic. And from that day on, no one was ever again scared of the Dark Part of the Forest. (less)
[Breakfast at the Banks's. MR BANKS eats his toast with an irritated expression]
MR BANKS: Winifred?
MRS BANKS: Yes dear?
MR BANKS: Don't you sometimes think that Mary Poppins is a little too, how shall I put it, magical?
MRS BANKS: Yes dear.
MR BANKS: Then don't you think we should do something about it?
MRS BANKS: Yes dear.
MR BANKS: Well, what are we going to do then?
MRS BANKS: Don't worry, dear, I've engaged a new nanny to help her. She's not magical at all. I'm sure you'll like her very much.
MR BANKS [deflated]: Oh. Good.
[JANE and MICHAEL rush in, followed by MARY POPPINS and MRS BEETON]
MRS BANKS: And here she is. Children, you have a big day ahead of you. Michael, have you taken your cod-liver oil?
MICHAEL [truculent scowl]: No. I don't like it.
MARY POPPINS: Now, Michael, remember what I always say. A spoonful of sugar...
[She has taken out a spoonful of white sugar. Michael eyes it disgustedly]
MRS BEETON: Ah, Mary, I think Michael might prefer some unrefined cane sugar, with just the smallest hint of vanilla. We tried it last night and he said it was a vast improvement. Here we are...
[She takes out a second spoonful. Michael swallows it avidly, followed by the cod-liver oil. MARY looks surprised]
MRS BEETON: But we must hurry, mustn't we? There was that tea-party we were going to attend...
[The scene rapidly flips to a tea party on UNCLE ALBERT's ceiling. MARY pours out the tea. JANE takes a sip and is visibly unimpressed]
BERT: What's wrong, Jane?
JANE: Where do I start? This is Earl Grey, and not my favourite brand either. The tea-pot hasn't been warmed. And the milk is off.
[UNCLE ALBERT, BERT and MARY look helpless. MRS BEETON reaches into her handbag]
MRS BEETON: As it happens, I do have a little Darjeeling here and a bottle of fresh milk. Please let me help.
[She tips out the offending tea, expertly makes a fresh pot and pours out new cups for everyone. JANE gazes at her with shining eyes, while MARY tries hard to seem unconcerned. The children drink their tea contentedly]
MARY POPPINS: I'm terribly sorry, we must go. You're visiting your father's bank.
CHILDREN: Awwww, already?
[The scene flips again to the street in front of Saint Paul's Cathedral. The BIRD WOMAN is selling bags of crumbs]
BIRD WOMAN: Feed the birds! Tuppence a bag!
MICHAEL: Can I buy one?
[MRS BEETON bends down, picks up a stray crumb and examines it carefully]
MRS BEETON: Well, this is simply monstrous! Cheap, stale, white bread, I'm sure it's giving those poor sparrows stomache-aches. And tuppence a bag must be at least a 1000% markup.
MICHAEL: But I want to feed the birds!
MRS BEETON: Fortunately, I came prepared. [She reaches into her bag again] The loaf I baked this morning, for a total cost of one ha'penny, was enough to make a bag for you [she gives one to MICHAEL], Jane, [one for JANE], your father [one for MR BANKS] and even one for this kind gentleman here [she hands one to THE OLDER MR DAWES, who has just joined them].
[Everyone feeds the birds, who can't get enough of the delicious bread]
THE OLDER MR DAWES [to MICHAEL]: So what brings you here, young fellow?
MICHAEL: I'd like to invest my tuppence in your bank, sir.
THE OLDER MR DAWES: Would you indeed!
MICHAEL: Yes, I would! Then I'll be part of... railways through Africa! Dams across the Nile!
JANE [whispers to MICHAEL]: The ships! Tell him about the ships!
MICHAEL: Fleets of ocean greyhounds! Plantations of ripening tea!
JANE: Darjeeling, of course.
MICHAEL: All for tuppence, prudently, carefully, invested in the...
THE OLDER MR DAWES: You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, young fellow. It must come from your father.
MICHAEL: No, from Mrs... [JANE kicks him], I mean, yes sir. Father's taught us all about finance. It's very interesting.
THE OLDER MR DAWES: Has he now? That reminds me, Banks, there's a place coming up on the Board. Perhaps we should talk about it.
MR BANKS: I'd be honoured, sir.
THE OLDER MR DAWES: Well, don't just stand there! Do come in [he ushers them into the bank], Banks, your two charming children, this delightful lady here [he gives a courtly bow to MRS BEETON], and, ah, wasn't there another member of the party?
[He looks around, surprised, but MARY POPPINS has unaccountably disappeared] (less)
This early draft of Macbeth, recently translated from the original Klingon, casts new light on the play and has already caused its fair share of controversy. We present two extracts. _____________________________________________
Surely no man suspects I killed the King? Or if they do, they durst not breathe a word Knowing our wrath...
Well, actually, my lord There's quite a few down at the bar who say The whole thing stinks and something's going on I think that if you went and called the cops And told them to investigate a bit Nothing excessive, sure, they know the drill It might be smart.
Hush, fool, and still thy tongue Another word will surely be thy last And yet it might be good to make a show Of seeking truth when all we want is lies To this end have I summoned us some help Two private dicks I'm sure we can control I have them here.
[Enter HOLMES and WATSON]
Come in guys, don't be shy.
I've told them everything they need to know
[She winks heavily at MACBETH and the ATTENDANT]
They'll start investigating right away So all can see no coverup's afoot.
[HOLMES takes out his magnifying glass and starts examining the rug]
Have on't good sir, thy diligence to show! And prove Macbeth is whiter than the snow. _____________________________________________
[Night in the castle. Without, the PORTER is taking regular nips from his hip-flask and has evidently been doing so for some time. Within, WATSON, alone, is waiting for HOLMES to return.
Enter MACBETH without]
How now, my man? The night is bitter cold.
Marry, there be no night so cold that a drop of whiskey will not warm me. Ifaith, I say, more cold, that I may have the more occasion for to cure it! Many a time have I disputed this with the Englishman, but he is of another mind. What care I: he may partake of his white snuff, I of my trusty flask here, and we are both the happier. God save your Majesty!
[He takes another nip]
What sayeth the Englishman?
He is a mighty one for secrets. He examines old stained clothes with his glass, and the marks of shoes, and he holds converse with the servants. And he writes in his book, and nods, and nods again. But why he nods, that I cannot tell ye.
What has he said?
When eight bells sounded, I heard them together. I know, Watson, he said, and soon will I have proof.
[MACBETH starts violently]
Knowst thy Majesty whereof he spoke?
I will ask him direct.
[MACBETH moves towards the door. Meanwhile, WATSON has been shivering, rubbing his arms, etc]
I never dreamed that Scotland was so chill! My ears are freezing. I'll just put this on.
[He dons HOLMES's deerstalker hat and sighs in contentment]
How warm and comfy. Wait! What was that noise?
[He moves to the window and listens, turning his back to the door. MACBETH enters. Thinking he sees HOLMES, he stabs WATSON in the back. WATSON falls and MACBETH realises his mistake]
Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell! I took thee for thy better...
Hey, come on That bit's from Hamlet. Oh, well, never mind.
[Dies. HOLMES has meanwhile entered, and is pointing something at MACBETH]
Thou mangy, wretched, murderous damn'd dog! I have thee covered: make no sudden moves.
Covered? With what? Thy words mean aught to me Threaten me not: no man of woman born May kill Macbeth
[He moves towards HOLMES, still holding his sword]
But hark! I am no man Rather an android, sent from future times To rid the world of such foul fiends as thee. I know thou murderedst Banquo; Duncan too; Lastly poor Watson. Let us make an end.
[He shoots MACBETH with his phaser]
Jesus and Mary, none of this makes sense And now you'll say you fired in self-defence.
I will. This night shalt thou with demons sup Okay, I'm done here. Scotty, beam me up.
- Count Tolstoy, to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?
- Mrs Beeton, admit defeat. Your goose is cooked.
- What, already? Let me check the thermometer... no, still well under 180 degrees, so I'm relieved to see you are mistaken. But that reminds me, I must put on the potatoes and beans. I apologise, I'd love to chat, but this is a rather busy moment. Could you pass me the salt? No, not that box, the sea salt, it's down at the bottom near the back. Oh, I'm sorry you banged your head. I must find a better place to put it.
- Yes, of course, sit down by all means. How dreadful, you suddenly look quite faint. Perhaps it's a little too hot in here, but, as they say, if you can't stand the heat...
It was a most enjoyable picnic. Pooh was just finishing the last bit of honey and licking around the edge of the pot in a Contented Way, when he suddenly realised that he was sitting on something. Something damp and squishy. Something...
"Oh bother!!" said Pooh. "Drat and bother and double bother!!! I've sat on two of Rabbit's Friends and Relations! Oh, what will Christopher Robin say!"
Christopher Robin came over and examined the two former mice.
"Pooh," he said gravely, "these are not Friends and Relations. They are Deadly Killer Mice From Outer Space. You are the Best Bear In The World, and you have Saved The Hundred Acre Wood."
And Pooh had never felt so proud and happy in all his life. (less)