Fundamental Truth

I just realised a fundamental truth that has somehow eluded me until now, and it is this: At any given time, there is a limited amount of money in the world*. Meaning that if I want money, I need to get it from someone else. There are several ways of going about this. There are people who try to get a few people with a lot of money to give them some, particularly at the same time as the people who they are getting money from are getting money from other people. These include the professionals of this world - lawyers, accountants, engineers. There are people who try to get lots of people with a little bit of money to give them some, particularly at the same time as the people who they are getting money from are getting enjoyment. These include the retailers of this world, the coffee shops, the supermarkets, the door to door salesmen. There are people who try to get people with a little bit more money to give them a little bit more, and end up also getting people who don't have quite enough money to give them a little bit more, particularly at the same time as the people who they are getting money from are living some kind of dream. These are the luxury good suppliers, the car manufacturers, the fancy restaurants, the brand label clothing retailers, the niche marketers, the addiction sellers. There are people who try to be everything to everyone, and often those people fail (apparently). There are also people who tell people lies in order to get money from those people, and often those people end up in gaol, or incredibly wealthy, or both. And then there are people who don't try to get people to give them money, and wait for people to come to them to give them money. The problem with these people is that it is fundamentally difficult to convince someone that you and they will both get more happiness by them giving you their money, since people will generally feel their own emotions more strongly than yours. It takes effort to do this. Sometimes the effort is not worth the yield. But often it is, and you just don't realise it because you missed something, like the fundamental truth that there is a limited amount of money.

* Let's keep on the side the idea of "printing money" (which governments can apparently do but not really) and "creating wealth", which I'm not even sure if it exists (probably it does but it's difficult to sort the truth from the propaganda).

Gelatinous Mess

The title of this post is the name of a band which doesn't exist yet, but as soon as I can figure out which musical instrument I play, and find a few others who play other ones (with the potential for duplication not exceeding two*), it will. And we will have a name which bears absolutely no resemblance to the fact that I'm cooking right now.

An idea that has been developing in my mind recently. There are lots of street cats in Tel Aviv. In fact, there are lots of street cats all over Israel. In the absence of any really good explanation as to why they are here and how they survive, I am convinced that they are in fact a secret organization, which will mobilise to defend the city in times of peril. The fact that they haven't yet mobilised is very good evidence that we have not yet been in a situation of serious enough peril, which I interpret as a good thing. However, if any one or more of our national destructors would ever pose an existential threat to our existence (is there any other kind?), a signal would be broadcast throughout the city. Small furry heads would rise from garbage bins and peek out from under cars. Eyes would change colour, become brighter. Ears would prick and nostrils flare, as sensory organs turn from mere gnawn scruffs into intelligence gathering units.  The indestructible cat army would arise, and do all kinds of Kung Fu Panda things.

Honestly, everyone else has a mythology; why shouldn't we?

Back to the saucepan.

* Otherwise it would become triplication, I believe, followed by quadruplication.

Some welcome recognition of Scrabble at the highest levels

This just in from xkcd:

Clearly Randall Munroe should be introduced to a2z WordFinder, the online searchable SOWPODS (international Scrabble) dictionary, in which case he would have seen that also "trochils" is acceptable (as is "coistril"). Problem solved.

The Kiwi Conspiracy

Now, I'm not one for conspiracy theories.

In general, I tend to believe that even if something were to be true, like that the US government has been covering up contact between the Merovingians and some advanced species which if they're so advanced why don't they learn to speak goddamn English and have proper ambitions like investing in real estate like the rest of us, since the 1960s or so, or like quantum theory or something, it is probably not really all that relevant to my life, and probably not worth investing my time and money in by reading books with names like "From Darkness into Light" or "The Twelfth Dimension" or by talking to people who rarely bathe.

But I have personally broken through a conspiracy theory so powerful, so relevant to my day-to-day life, that I have no choice but to share it with my reading audience. If it means I've got to stop bathing from now on, then so be it. Here it is:

You don't actually need to peel kiwi fruit in order to eat it.

That's correct, ladies and gentlemen. All those years that they told you that to eat the kiwi fruit, you had to cut it in half and try to scoop out the flesh with a spoon, perhaps inexpertly try to peel it with a knife, all in all making a big mess of yourself and the bed*, all those years were wasted years, ladies and gentlemen.

Once you realise that you can actually eat the skin of the kiwi fruit, in a manner similar to, say, an apple, as opposed to, say, an orange, be prepared for your life to change dramatically. You will be, on the whole, more cheerful, less frustrated at peeling, and far more likely to be dated by a Hollywood celebrity.

Having said that, I've got to say that my tongue does feel a bit furry from the experience ...

* Note: I strongly advise not eating fruit in bed. What would the wife say when she comes home to find the bedsheets discoloured with a sticky discharge? Clearly a recipe for disaster.

Sean Lemon

To be hummed (through the nose) to the tune of Sean Lennon's "Dead Meat":

Na-sal
Oh this song is so na-sal
Like a peg on my no-strils
Like a peg on my no…se
Yeah-eh, yeah-eh.

Sounds like
Sounds like something familiar
Something I've heard before, like
Like an Andrew Lloyd We-bber
Mu…sical.

Midnight
Not a sound on the pavement
Has the moon lost her mem-ry
She is smiling alo…ne
Yeah-eh, yeah-eh.

Th-e word "severed" is an
Anagram of "deserve"
Oh, also "red eves"
Is an anagram of "deserve".

Said the cannibal to his victim ...

... "I just love seeing fresh faces".

I actually made that joke in a dream last night. I think it's pretty good for my subconscious.

Is anyone else a sleeping comedian?

Shamefaced and Bareless

And now for some shameless and barefaced abuse of this non-commercial medium for advertising (and recommendation) purposes:

1. We are going to be in Australia from 20/7 - 20/9 and are looking to sublet our beautiful, well-located Tel Aviv apartment. If anyone knows anyone who might like to sublet during that period (subject to our landlord agreeing), please let me know. That's the advertisement.

And now for the recommendation.

2. If anyone can suggest the perfect honeymoon location near Australia for two weeks in September (taking into account weather conditions at that time of year), please let me know.

Now, that wasn't so painful, was it?