|
Friar Tuck's Ultimate Hugo Award Nebula Award & Phillips K. Dick Award Quick Reference Page George Harrison, on Gun Control. "If everybody who had a gun just shot themselves there wouldn't be a problem." Perhaps the Best and Oddest SF Song Ever The Strange Case of Frank Cash and the Morning Paper, words by T Bone Burnett and Tonio K, performed by T Bone Burnett It was late September two years ago, Frank Cash was down on his luck. He made a killing at Churchill Downs but dropped it all, at Aqueduct. And that left him somewhat thunderstruck. So he rented a place down on Lonely Street, he was lookin' for somewhere to hide. The paper showed up the the door every day, and he'd go through, the classifieds. Then one morning he turned to the sports page, and he noticed that somethin' was strange; the race results were from the day before, but the football scores were for next week's games. Frank felt strange and a little deranged. But a switchboard lit up in his brain. That Sunday he watched in amazement, as the scores flashed by on his TV set. Monday morning he ran for the paper, he made it to the phone and began placing bets. He put ten thousand that night on the Jets. Ten grand, he didn't have on the Jets. It happened like that the whole season. He couldn't even count all the money he made. He started buying Italian women and shoes, which he kept in a sprawling Estate on the lake. And by that I don't mean by the lake, I mean on the lake. He waited all summer for football to start, the maid brought him the paper each day. But all he could find was yesterday's scores; the damned paper had ceased to prognosticate. Then a look of horror crossed his face. It had finally dawned on him but too late. His Rolls hit the pavement at a hundred and twenty, headed for Lonely Street. He rang the bell and a John Walker answered; Frank pressed his luck against the door screen. Frank asked if he still got the paper. John Walker said, "What do you care?" Frank answered, "I need to see the sports section, just for a minute," and John Walker stared. Frank tried to push through the doorway; John pulled a real forty-five. The dogs were all barking as the Rolls pulled away. John Walker was no longer alive. <shift to slow ethereal mode> The Judge looks down through his bifocals, the Peers of the Jury squirm in their seats; the courtroom is silent except for his footsteps. Frank Cash is about to speak. Frank says, "Your honor, and ladies and gentlemen of the jury...all this has been happening to me because of this guy named T Bone Burnnet. He's been making all this up. And I just want to say, I don't believe in him, I fact, I don't even think he exists. And not only that: but this song is over." <stunned silence> <resume fast pace> Frank got a suspended sentence, the jury ruled it was self defense. They ignored his statement, on the grounds it didn't make any sense. Frank Cash had had a pretty good year, considering the dizzying chain of events. The paper was never delivered again, but I gave him back all the money he spent. And he married a woman with a lot of soul, and his first son will become President. If you see him, tell him I said "Hello?" And that I'm happy to be able to call him my friend. The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was: Where am I? For that matter, *who* am I? And in response, thus spake the Oracle: You are a speck of grit in the eye of the universe. You are a paramecieum adrift on a piece of wood on the atlantic ocean. You are the chick at the center of an egg, unable to get past your own pitifully thin shell to touch those around you. You are a child, wandering through the candy store, paralyzed by indecision by the wonders that abound before you. You are a blind and deaf fool, starving at the feast of life. You are someone who knows there is something out there, but does not know where to place his first step to find that which you cannot name. You are a giant, holding countless lives in your hands, casting them about like dice. You are a god, the world spinning before you in the darkness between the stars, a tiny blue marble, and you do not see the beauty of it. You strain yourself as hard as you can, trying to grasp the meaning of your terrifyingly short lives, even when it stares you in the face, screaming at you for attention, wondering why you don't hear. You are that which seeks love, yet is afraid of giving up anything for fear of it not being returned. You owe the Oracle a promise to be good. Bruce Cockburn on NPR, explaining his song The Last Night of the World: The champagne notion I owe, I actually, to Sam Phillips who is a great songwriter and a good friend, who toured with us some years back, and at one point she saw me carrying this backpack I was always lugging around loaded with books and useful things, powerbars, flashlights, rope, other useful things and she said, "What are you carrying in that thing anyway?" I said, "It was everything I needed for the apocalypse," and she just stopped and looked at me, and in my mind I picture her putting her hands on her hips, and giving this quizzical expression, and she just said, "What do you need for the apocalypse besides champagne and a couple of glasses?" and I thought that was the most succinct statement you could possibly make about the correct attitude toward the end of the world, so that's where that came from. John A. Hrastar "Teach a man to make fire, and he will be warm for a day. Set a man on fire, and he will be warm for the rest of his life." A Puzzle. Three sailors get a hotel room for $30.00 ($10.00 apiece). The hotel manager makes a mistake and decides he must give them back $5. He sends the bell boy to their room with the $5. However, the bellboy is upset that he didn't get a tip from the sailors, so he keeps $2 for his tip. He gives the sailors the remaining three dollars. That means that the sailors only paid $9 apiece for the room, and the bellboy got $2. That only adds up to be $29. Where did the other dollar go? Kurt Vonnegut, on religion. In Hocus Pocus, Kurt describes a sci-fi short story where some energy beings called The Elders are mischieviously meddling in Earth Life. "It appeared to the Elders that the people here would believe anything about themselves, no matter how preposterous, as long as it seemed flattering. To make sure of this, they performed an experiment. They put the idea into Earthlings' heads that the whole Universe had been created by one big male animal who looked just like them. He sat on a throne with a lot of less fancy thrones all around him. When people died they got to sit on those other thrones forever because they were such close relatives of the Creator. "The people down here just ate that up!" The Dalai Lama's Instructions For Life: 1. Take into account that great love and great achievements involve great risk. 2. When you lose, don't lose the lesson. 3. Follow the three Rs: Respect for self, Respect for others and Responsibility for all your actions. 4. Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck. 5. Learn the rules so you know how to break them properly. 6. Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship. 7. When you realize you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it. 8. Spend some time alone every day. 9. Open your arms to change, but don't let go of your values. 10. Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer. 11. Live a good, honourable life. Then when you get older and think back, you'll be able to enjoy it a second time. 12. A loving atmosphere in your home is the foundation for your life. 13. In disagreements with loved ones, deal only with the current situation. Don't bring up the past. 14. Share your knowledge. It's a way to achieve immortality. 15. Be gentle with the earth. 16. Once a year, go some place you've never been before. 17. Remember that the best relationship is one in which your love for each other, exceeds your need for each other. 18. Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it. 19. Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon. The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was: Most wondrous Oracle, with impeccable taste in neckties, please answer the plea of this most lowly & unworthy of supplicants. My museum of chinese teak Buddhas has been besieged by vandals. Woodchucks, no less. They first gained entry by picking the locks on the windows, so I put wire grates up, too small for their fat, furry little bodies to pass through. That worked for a while. Then, they had themselves shipped into the building via Federal Express. So we put all packages through an x-ray machine, and we microwave the little miscreants when we find them. After that, they began entering through the bathrooms, coming up through the toilets like sewer-rats. So we pour parafin oil in the bowls each night (it works for the afore-mentioned rats, after all). That worked for a week, despite the incident with that unfortunate security guard. (He came into the john, sat down & lit a cigarette, then threw the match in, between his legs. The resulting explosion blew him across the room & broke a leg; he then suffered 4 cracked ribs when the paramedics asked what happened, and laughed so hard they dropped the stretcher down the staircase.) Now the slimy little suckers are using scuba gear, and the oil just isn't working. The Buddhas are just about ate up, I'm afraid they'll move on to the Trojan Wooden Horse collection next. Please help us...what do we do now? And in response, thus spake the Oracle: Actually, I think your problem may go away after they finish off the Buddhas. These woodchucks are obviously Hungary woodchucks (as demonstrated by their voracious eating habits), and Hungary woodchucks are exclusively Buddha Pests. You owe the Oracle a Deli Llama (which is another story in its own right). Chalk Dust Torture, words by Tom Marshall, performed by Phish. Come stumble my mirth beaten worker, I'm Jesmund the family berzerker. I'm bought for the price of a flaggon of rice; the wind buffets the cabin--you speak of your life. Or more willingly, Locust the Lurker. Confuse what you can of the ending, and revise your despise so impending. 'Cause I soak on the wrath that you didn't quite mask, I'm getting it clearly through alternate paths, or mixed in with the signal you're sending. For who can unlearn all the facts that I've learned? I sat in their chairs, and my synapses burned. The torture of chalk dust collects on my tongue, thoughts follow my vision and dance in the sun; all my vasoconstrictors they come slowly undone. Can't this wait 'till I'm old? Can I live while I'm young? Can I live while I'm young? But no peace for Jezmund tonight, I plug the distress tube up tight. And watch what I say as it flutters away; and all this emotion is kept harmless at bay, not to educate somebody's fright. For who can unlearn all the facts that I've learned? I sat in their chairs, and my synapses burned. The torture of chalk dust collects on my tongue, thoughts follow my vision and dance in the sun; all my vasoconstrictors they come slowly undone. Can't this wait 'till I'm old? Can I live while I'm young? Can I live while I'm young? Can I live while I'm young? Can I live while I'm young? A Story, of unknown origin: "Just one drop of poison in this vast reservior wouldn't do anyone harm," he reasoned, holding out a vial to me. "For $50, would you throw it in?" I laughed at him. I didn't want to risk polluting the water we all must drink from. "How about $500?" Was this serious? Even though a tiny bit of the noxious fluid couldn't really hurt, it was sort of a crazy thing to do. "$5,000?" "$15,000?" "$100,000 a year plus a paid vacation? Think of all the people you could help with that kind of money." Now he was starting to make more sense. Could it, perhaps, be worth a minor compromise, a small infraction, to be able to give aid to many? Weren't there causes when the end did justify the means? Besides, it was just one, insignificant, little drop of poison - easily diluted by so vast a reservoir. But it was only after I emptied the eyedropper that I noticed all the other people walking away from the water's bank just like me with empty poison vials and pockets full of the wages of sin. The Internet Oracle, with advice for aspiring writers: Er...on second thought, why don't you write about your pet ducky? "The brilliant duck doth nobly quacketh so..." Bertrand Russell, on The State of the Universe. "Supposing you got a crate of oranges that you opened, and you found all the top layer of oranges bad, you would not argue, 'The underneath ones must be good, so as to redress the balance.' You would say, 'Probably the whole lot is a bad consignment', and that is really what a scientific person would say about the universe." Nasrudin and the Fairness of God Two children found a bag containing twelve marbles. They argued over how to divide the toys and finally went to see the Mulla. When asked to settle their disagreement, the Mulla asked whether the children wanted him to divide the marbles as a human would or as God would. The children replied, "We want it to be fair. Divide the marbles as God would." So, the Mulla counted out the marbles and gave three to one child and nine to the other. President Harry S. Truman, in 1951, commenting on the anti-communist fervor that he himself had partially unleashed: "This malicious propaganda has gone so far that on the Fourth of July, over in Madison, Wisconsin, People were afraid to say they believed in the Declaration of Independence. A hundred and twelve people were asked to sign a petition that contained nothing except quotations from the Declaration of Independence and the Bill of Rights. One hundred and eleven of these people refused to sign that paper -many of them because they were afraid that it was some kind of subversive document and that they would lose their jobs or be called Communists." back to top |
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||