- - - - - - -Prolegomenon - - - - - - -
Suppose we brought someone to a pool hall who's never heard of causality, never heard of inertia, momentum, gravity, geometry in general, and never heard of anything that might be even remotely connected to the workings of the game of billiards. Let's name our mystery retard: Person "MITCHELL."
Suppose now we show MITCHELL an overview of the game. We show him the pool-sticks (cues) and how to use 'em. We show him the Q-ball and all the other balls and how they interact with the bumpers on the table. We show him that if you strike a ball hard it will bounce around the table, crazy-like, and then it always comes to a stop. And then we show him his first ball-to-ball collision; a ghastly sight for our man of puerility. But before he sees the balls strike each other, let me pause the action so we can study Mr. MITCHELL. Imagine it: we strike the Q-ball in such a way that it nears closer and closer to the 8-ball which is lying on the other side of the table. It keeps rolling and rolling, getting closer and closer to the 8-ball and then ...
What?
Then what?
What would MITCHELL, knowing nothing as per his usual, expect to happen?
He sees the balls are about to hit each other... but what happens when they meet?
Is it likely for him to instinctively know the effect that one ball would produce on the other? How could he know? Perhaps, thinks MITCHELL, the Q-ball would "keep on a-truckin'", roll right up to the 8-ball, and then... bounce off it... back to where it started from. Remember, MITCHELL has seen how the Q-ball bounces cleanly off those bumpers on the table... so why wouldn't it bounce off the 8-ball like that?
Maybe, thinks MITCHELL, the Q-ball would roll up to other one and, when it gets to the 8, ... it'd stick to it! Is this outcome any more far-reaching than the idea of the 8-ball starting to move as a result of the collision? Keep in mind here, that MITCHELL is completely ignorant of such "common knowledge" that you or I might have in this respect.
Maybe the Q-ball will roll up and over the other ball.
Maybe the Q-ball will crack in half and a giant rubber talking chicken will pop out, singing, "Hello my baby, hello my darlin', hello my RAG TIME GIIIIIIIRL. Send me a kiss by wiiiiiiiire... baby my hearts on fiiiiiiiiiiire! ... if you refuse me, honey, you'll lose me, ya i -- forget the reeeeeeeeest, hey now, i tried my beeeeeeest, why don't you give it a reeeeeeeest? . . . da da da daaaaa da, ta ta ta taaaaa ta, mm mm mm mmmmmm mmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmm."
Okie . . . the "point" to this long talk is our tepid uncertainty about stuff. We can never be sure about determinant "causes." Hell, we can rule some things out as being a little too wacky or unbelievable, like.... if chickens or gods sprang out of that billiards discussion from above... but how can we be certain?
I think the only way one can relieve that uneasy feeling of dubiety in regards to cause and effect is to have experienced in some way a similar cause and witnessed equally well its effect; until we've seen the cause-and-effect relationship (and the more times we see this, the more confident we become) we -- can't -- know. We can guess, sure, and we might even guess correctly about what a certain effect might be... but guessing and getting it right isn't the same as _knowing_.
- - - - - - Now lets go one step deeper. Suppose now that MITCHELL is brought into the pool hall and is immediately shown one of the balls in motion (the 8-ball). Remember before how he saw one ball about to hit the other? Well, this time there is only ball on the table that he can see, and... it's already moving. MITCHELL watches it roll for a bit... it bangs into a few bumpers along the way... then it stops rolling altogether.
What can MITCHELL deduce about what _caused_ the moving 8-ball? (knowing nothing more than the facts presented).
Can he know anything without solid, definitive evidence?
- - - - - - - Maybe MITCHELL thinks another ball started the 8-ball moving (and then the starter ball simply "went away").
Hm...
What if MITCHELL really likes this idea? Believe me, he's one of those people who likes to talk about balls. Balls, balls, balls, always playin' with 'em, rollin' em around in his hands... keepin' 'em clean... lovin' 'em to no end... Ya, it's very possible that MITCHELL would keep to this story, maybe even revere it.
Let's assume that for some perverted reason, MITCHELL gets it stuck in his mind that another ball, named Yannie, was responsible for the 8-ball's motion. He examines the case more closely, gives Yannie a great deal of thought, and eventually concludes that Yannie is white in color, extremely bright, and that He tenderly "tapped" the 8-ball--in a gentle and loving sort of way--to get it moving in the first place.
- - - - - - - And so it goes - - - - - - -
After growing such an ominous personality, our friend MITCHELL has become someone quite foreign to me. You see, _I_ no longer understand what MITCHELL is talking about with those above few revelations. I bet you don't either. If only there was some way to talk to him, all one-on-one like...
Thankfully, in literature when you talk of someone in the hypothetical long enough, they become real. And now that MITCHELL is real, I can simply ask him questions about all this. Thus, the following conversation was born.
[just play along folks]
I: DUDE... what the hell are you talking about? Start with your word choice, cause ya know, words carry a sort of subliminal message with their multiple-meanings and undertones, and I'd like to know what we're talking about here; all of what we're talking about here. Thus, what be up with your word "Yannie?"
MITCHELL: Yannie comes ancient Shebrew, meaning "to start."* I've more or less arbitrarily picked it to be the name of our Starter Ball. The word also means a bunch of other things like "good, pure, loyal, trustworthy, confident, staunch, reliance, perfection, and high morality." But those are all irrelevant. Just consider Yannie to mean the Q-ball or the Starter Ball. *[Note to audience: I made that up, thank you]
I: Very well, the name is arbitrary. Now, lets start in on his connexion to the case at hand, eh? Why did another ball have to be involved at all?
MITCHELL: The 8-ball had to be started in motion by something, right?
I: Right right right.
MITCHELL: Therefore it had to be started by a billiard ball.
I: I'm afraid I don't follow...
MITCHELL: Don't worry about that. It will all become clear to you once you understand His attributes. You see, there are a lot of Starter Balls that "could be" the cause of this situation--all Sons of the Divine--but there are also a lot of Starter Things that also "could be" the cause. Anything is possible. But I say Yannie's attributes make him the most probable.
I: Very well. On to the attributes, eh. For starters, how could a billiard ball, like Yannie, have the quality of geniality? Balls can't be loving... well... maybe some kinds of balls moreso than others... but billiard balls certainly cannot be!
MITCHELL: How far did the 8-ball travel?
I: Um... HUH?? Magoo? And... what?
MITCHELL: How far did the 8-ball travel?
I: I dunno... about the distance any normally struck ball travels I suppose.
MITCHELL: I see. Well, would you say the ball traveled a long distance or a short distance?
I: A short distance.
MITCHELL: Very good! That's actually what I'd call it, too; a short distance. It follows from that that the Starter Ball must be lovingly benevolent.
I: Could you explain that?
MITCHELL: Certainly! The 8-ball travelled only a "little bit," so it couldn't've been struck by a horribly wicked blow from anything. A gentle tap is, indeed, necessary.
I: And gentle taps are loving?
MITCHELL: More loving that not I would say. Do you see where I'm coming from?
I: Actually ..... ya, I sorta do.
MITCHELL: You're surprised?
I: Ya. :) One could very well interpret it that way: that the starter ball is gentle and loving . . . in a way . . . But I still don't understand where these other attributes came from. Are they as simple to grasp as this first one?
MITCHELL: Oh, I think they are. :)
I: Jolly Good. K... how bout color? Why would you think the starter ball would be white in color?
MITCHELL: Actually, that stems from the lovingness quality we were just talking about.
I: O?
MITCHELL: E!
I: Uh?
MITCHELL: Ah.
I: Eh?
MITCHELL: Yes, well, _color_ has always been an intense issue to me. And I can usually tell what color something is just by feeling for it.
I: So you're on crack now?
MITCHELL: Why? because I can feel color?
I: Yah.
MITCHELL: No no, my dear boy, I'm not on crack, though I wish I were! No, you see, everyone can feel certain colors. For instance, look around you. Do you see all the nasty colors about? In the shadows of this very room we're standing in, we see black, do we not? Darkness. What kind of feeling does that stir in you?
I: Um... it reminds me of being tired and closing my eyes...
MITCHELL: That's not a feeling.
I: I try not to think with my feelings.
MITCHELL: But you can still answer questions. What does "the color Black" feel like to you?
I: . . . .
MITCHELL: Don't be afraid of talking about your feelings.
I: It's not that...
MITCHELL: Well I think it is.
I: Well you can suck it.
MITCHELL: Regardless, the color black traditionally connotes the feelings of death, fear, the unknown, and non-good-ness in general. Would you agree?
I: I suppose.
MITCHELL: So you've felt it before then.
I: Ya.
MITCHELL: So the color black feels evil?
I: Ya. At varying degrees I guess. What does this have to do with "Yannie?"
MITCHELL: I'm getting to that. First, let me say GOOOOOOOD. It's good that you can feel _something_ color-related. Because that feeling is perfectly applicable to Yannie. In fact, I feel that exact same way _about_ Yannie. Well, not the exact same way, I mean I feel the opposite way because I think He's white and all; not black and dark and evil . . . but I share that same weird connection that we all feel when it comes to _color_. Let me put it to you this way: Is "black," "evil?"
I: For the sake of this argument, YES.
MITCHELL: And is good the opposite of evil?
I: They are diametrically opposed, yes, evil is the opposite of good, and good is the opposite of evil.
MITCHELL: And we know that Yannie is good, right?
I: It's been established, yes.
MITCHELL: So does it not follow that Yannie must also be white?
I: That does sound right, but... I dunno... See, this is all based on our feelings about colors... I don't usually accept "feelings" as very strong evidence for something....
MITCHELL: But these are feelings backed by logic. Are they not? They match what we already know about Yannie.
I: This is true.
MITCHELL: It even matches the word Yannie. You did say you were keen on words, right? Well, "Yannie" itself means "goodness." What else do you need, boy? This is all backed by logic. Surely you can trust logic. Or are you about to go all solipsistic on me?
I: No, I, suppose that will suffice. And the Q-ball is white, right?, and that is Yannie....
MITCHELL: Correct. I think you're starting to get it. Name your next question.
I: Um... the "brightness" attribute. How do we know Yannie is all bright?
MITCHELL: Now that one took me some time to comprehend. It wasn't until I had a real good look at the 8-ball that I arrived at _that_ one.
[Then Mitchell tossed the 8-ball over to me so I could look the thing over. I gave it a good scan, shrugged deeply, and asked him to "esplain." And esplain he did.]
MITCHELL: Notice the bright spot. It's near the bottom of the ball.
I: There's a bottom to spheres now?
MITCHELL: The part opposite the number marking on the 8-ball, ok? Look at the bottom and this time alert yourself to "shiny spots" or bright spots. You will see it.
I: Oh ya... how bout that? It's right there. :)
MITCHELL: Yes it is. That bright spot rubbed off of Yannie. Actually, that's the best proof of Him that there is! Doesn't that make you happy?
I: *making hand motions*
MITCHELL: What?
I: ... Uh... dude.... there's no reason to think that bright spot is relevant to this discussion. I mean, why would we even....
MITCHELL: Listen!, that spot of uneven brightness means something, ok? Maybe it doesn't mean anything to you, yet, but I happen to see the big picture.
I: And what would that be, oh my brother.
MITCHELL: That spot tells us an awful lot about Yannie. FOR INSTANCE, we know that Yannie Himself must be perfectly shiny and bright. That is, bright all around; in every corner, and in every way, by the law of probability.
I: Probability? Does that word have a different meaning in your ... made up Shebrew language?
MITCHELL: Now there's no need to get snippy. One should follow Yannie's example and be good and loving.
I: I'm sorry, I guess... Could you _please_ explain how probability has anything to do at all with anything?
MITCHELL: Very well, I do so love the ancient craft of mathematics. :)
[Yes, he actually did make a gay little smile when he said that.]
MITCHELL: You see, all of Yannie must be bright. He must be a luminous, spherical luminary. For imagine if only part of Yannie was bright and clean and such; only a smidgen. What would the chances be of _that_ tiny particle being the part that rubbed off onto the 8-ball? The chances would be astronomical! It would be impossible, if not highly unlikely for such a TINY fastidious modicum on the ball to "just happen to" connect with the 8-ball. I mean... lets be serious here. The contact point between the balls is about what? about one one-thousandth of the size of the ball. Take that number, and square it! --because we have to account for that tiny spot on Yannie _times_ that perfect spot on the 8-ball-- and, well... there you have it.
I: Wow... the... probability... almost makes sense... I've been flabbergasted before, but this is just as amazing! Only.. I'm not sure how the spot on the 8-ball was "perfectly placed," but....
MITCHELL: PLUS, remember how we concluded that the 8-ball was only slightly nudged?
I: Yes.
MITCHELL: Well that's because only tiny part of Yannie actually touched the ball and made it so. All these hints towards a _small_ probability add up, don't cha think? Thus, via my cumulative case for Yannie, all of Him must be bright and shiny and true. All of Him. The probability of it being otherwise is just too small. There can be no other way.
I: But... well... ok, I understand the probability part, thus, if Yannie did it, he must be fully bright...
MITCHELL: Then what's your problem?
I: . . . . Aren't there _other ways_ for a bright spot to appear on a billiard ball?
MITCHELL: No.
I: Are you sure about that? Cause it seems to me like you've got this Yannie Idea in your head and now you're trying to fudge the facts as best you can to make everything point to Yannie creating that so-called "bright-spot."
MITCHELL: Well, what else could have done it?
I: I don't know.
MITCHELL: Good answer! Come now, are you seriously going to replace the Yannie Hypothesis with _that_?
I: ... mmm
MITCHELL: I'll have no problem revamping my theory if you can show me a better solution to this problem. Can you name some counterexamples? Can YOU produce a shiny spot on an 8-ball? Do you think YOU're Yannie all of a sudden?
I: Well... it is just a ball, dude. If you get some polish and...
MITCHELL: You're missing the point and you're trying to play God. There was no polish nor special cleaning tools around in the beginning. There was no evidence of anyone or anything mucking with the 8-ball. The only one who could make brightness without such things would have to be very polished Himself; He would be Yannie.
I: Well how about if I were to touch the ball to make it shine without using any such instruments?
[I then proceeded to pick up the 8-ball and try to brighten it up a bit with my hand.]
MITCHELL: How dare you rub your balls in front of me! Are you Yannie? Can you make that which is bright?
I: ... ya... see?
MITCHELL: But can you make it exactly like the spot that is already there? The original spot was very small. The spots you've made are large and cumbersome. They have dirty looking fingerprints on them. They are baneful, pernicious, and depraved. No blot of Yannie's loins looks like that, I am sorry! No, the original spot could not have come from a human. It came from He.
I: Well.... the original spot _was_ quite small, smaller than my fingers are... so you might have a point...
MITCHELL: Yes, man-made glimmers are fundamentally different from those blessed by Yannie.
I: I suppose you are right. So you really think the original one came from Yannie?
MITCHELL: Yes. :)
I: And that spot was created when Yannie touched the 8-ball . . . to make it start rolling?
MITCHELL: Yes. :)
I: And the ball was only seen moving once, right?
MITCHELL: Yes.
I: So Yannie only touched the 8-ball once?
MITCHELL: ... Yes.
I: So there should only be one bright spot on the 8-ball?
MITCHELL: I ... suppose so ... Ya know, this whole topic is quite irrelevant. There is only one bright spot on the 8-ball.
[At this point, curiosity almost knocked me over. I picked up the 8-ball and started searching it for bright spots. At first, there appeared to be no bright marks anywhere on the ball... not even the one I had seen before. So I did a systematic search, starting at the top, near the number 8 on the ball, and circling around and around until I reached the bright spot on the bottom--the spot that started all this. Then, I noticed something else.]
I: How about this spot?
MITCHELL: Where? Did you just make another one?
I: No, I can't make another one like the original, remember?
[I handed him the ball, and after several minutes, MITCHELL, with a childlike innocence, gazed back at me and said he couldn't find the other bright mark.]
I: It's right there... *pointing*
MITCHELL: I'm truly sorry. My eyes must not be as good as yours are.
I: But it's _right_ _there_... *pointing... with my middle finger this time*
MITCHELL: This is what we must do, since you can see it and I cannot. We will leave the matter a stalemate, since it really doesn't matter: Yannie could have touched the ball a second time. The reason we might not have seen it is because the first time He touched the ball... we weren't here yet. And the second time He touched the ball is when we entered and observed the ball's motion. Thus, we should drop this issue completely, since it is irrelevant. I will leave thinking there is only one bright spot, you thinking two. Is this _aright_ with you?
I: Yes. Agreed. Is that all the attributes then?
MITCHELL: Quite so.
I: Ok, so... now I should have that same conceptual grasp on Yannie as you have... now that I understand His attributes, right?
MITCHELL: Unless there is something wrong with you, yes, you should understand.
I: There's something wrong with me. :(
MITCHELL: Agreed.
I: I still don't see why it had to be a _ball_ in the first place. :(
MITCHELL: Good Lord man, you mean after all this time, you're still stuck on _that_ part?
I: Sorta. But didn't you say all this talk about the attributes would show me Yannie? I mean that's why I stayed in this debate for this long...
MITCHELL: Yes, I said that.
I: Well I don't think it's worked. And now I'm starting to think that maybe there never was a Yannie in the first place.
MITCHELL: HOW DARE YOU! You ungrateful little scoundrel! . . . . And to think, I've wasted all this time trying to explain it to you. Look at all the logic we've gone through! You've agreed to each part of it, and it all points to Yannie! Would you like me to just throw it all out the window? Can you not trust the words you hear?
I: Look, buddy, MITCHELL, baby... calm your fuckless self. I'm still rather interested in this Yannie character, and the grasp he seems to have on you... and I would like to talk this out if at all possible. If I've offended you, I'm sorry.
MITCHELL: You have offended me. You've made my work sound like a pitiful waste of time. How do you THINK I'm going to react? Or do you think?
I: I'm sorry. I'm just... not grasping it...
[Aside: Ok, this is starting to suck. How does one deal with an old guy who's getting all pouty and pissed off at the same time? Perhaps it's time to change my line of questioning... and maybe even... give in on this point. I mean, I'd hate to see an asshole cry (Geez... that even SOUNDS gross). Ok, even though he's starting to sound ultra-kooky, and maybe outside the laws of reason... he's still my friend. I should give him the benefit of the doubt. Shit... maybe this all _is_ obvious... maybe I'm not seeing it because _I'm_ the one who's too stupid to get it. So, I'll give him a few minutes, then I'll start up again, and give the windbag a fresh start.]
I: Ok, MITCHELL, I don't know how else the 8-ball could've started moving, and I'm willing to concede to you this much: _some_ ball probably started it. The thing I haven't liked from the beginning of all this was the way you've excluded all the other balls from being the initial cause. Why couldn't the 6-ball have started the 8's motion?
MITCHELL: So your problem was only that it had to be a ball, right?
I: Ya, that's what I just said...
MITCHELL: But you still think all the attribute arguments are sound, right?
I: Ya, very sound actually. It was only the notion of a ball at all that I didn't like.
MITCHELL: But you're over that, and know there must be a ball.
I: Yes.
MITCHELL: And now you want to know why not the 6-ball?
I: Yes.
MITCHELL: Well that's easy! The 6-ball does not match the description we've conjectured about Yannie! Let me ask you this: is the 6-ball white in color?
I: No, it's colour is green.
MITCHELL: And does white imply benevolence?
I: It is what we agreed to before...
MITCHELL: Right. Therefore the 6-ball is not loving and kind like Yannie is. So there's step one of why the 6-ball couldn't've started it.
I: Hm...
MITCHELL: And is the 6-ball all bright?
I: No, it is not.
MITCHELL: Then the 6-ball cannot...
I: WAIT A SECOND. Wait just one second there MA-TIT-CHELL. The Q-ball is not all bright either. The Q-ball is just a regular ball _painted_ white. That does not mean it is necessarily all bright! THEREFORE, neither isYannie! I've found the source of my troubles! :) All this time we've been talking about Yannie as being all bright. And we've come to the conclusion that the starter ball (if there even was one) must be all bright. But that's not the case in reality. I have the Q-ball in my hand right now and I can see it's not like that. Therefore, yada yada, I fuck you. HA! I feel much better now. :)
MITCHELL: The Q-ball is not Yannie.
I: !!!!!!!!! WHAT?
MITCHELL: Heavens, no, where did you get that idea from?
I: *gaping back at him*.... .... um... I ... thought we'd established that already....
MITCHELL: No no no, the Q-ball is not Yannie, you must have misunderstood me. I always said the Q-ball is _like_ Yannie, not _is_ Yannie.
I: Are you... fucking serious? I seem to recall, rather vividly that...
MITCHELL: Memories can be corrupted, young one. If you thought something happened or was said, there's always a chance you just remembered it wrong.
I: Hm... I... I... don't know what to say. That must be the case then.... or something like that..... So Yannie is not the Q-ball then?
MITCHELL: Good Lord, no! Please try to pay attention.
I: I'm sorry.... but you _did_ mention other Starter Balls before right? And other Starter Things? Sons of the Divine? Cause how do we know they didn't cause anything?
MITCHELL: I mentioned no other starter balls. There is only one Starter Ball, and his name is Yannie. He is white, omni-bright, and benevolent.
I: .... rrrrrright.... you're.... slipping away from valid argument.....
MITCHELL: And what do you mean by that, young one?
I: You're... inconsistent. One second you say there are Starters from the Divine, and Yannie is the Q-ball, and the next minute...
MITCHELL: Oh dear me, no. You're very confused. You need Yannie's help.
[Aside: This is where he started to scare me. Not because he was acting like a complete FUCKING moron, but because he was doing it... and not noticing that he was doing it. It's like he believed in this thing so much... that the ideal of it overshadowed the reality of it. AND HE WAS TRYING TO FORCE IT ON ME! He does not seem crazy in any way. Just... deluded a bit. But no, that sounds like too harsh a term... He's not deluded, it's... something else... It almost reminds me of the typical American attitude on things like The Burning Rain Forests. Most all Americans are [more or less] completely sane... but when it comes to this issue, they KNOW that these extinct and unexplicably valuable resources are dying... by the hour. Yet they tell themselves it's nothing. They blow it off. Some have even told me "Ya, we're doing our best to fix that." Well... obviously not! Scary as it is to contemplate it, we distort our realities all the time; our mental picture of the world that is. It's like Georgy Orwell's doublethink... Yes, MITCHELL has just pulled a doublethink on me. I don't know how else to explain it... Whatever it was, I have to talk my way around it... for there's no way he'll go back to his previous mode of thinking... he can't seem to help it. And again, _I_ am no super-genius. I can't even spell simple words correctly. :) Thus, there is always that possibility that _I'm_ fucking this up.... not MITCHELL. Ya, with all this in mind, he deserves another chance at a rational argument.]
I: So.... there's only one type of ball that could've done this... one Starter Ball, eh? No regular balls for you?
MITCHELL: No, no regular ball could've done it.
I: And why is that? I mean... besides the color thing and... the other attribute...
MITCHELL: How many balls were on the table when we first came upon it?
I: Why, only one, the 8-ball.
MITCHELL: Right. If a normal ball had struck it... don't cha think we woulda seen that one on the table, too?
I: Hm... probably...
MITCHELL: You see, that's YET ANOTHER reason why Yannie musta done it. Cause Yannie is invisible.
I: He's invisible now?
MITCHELL: He has to be! Do you see any perfectly bright balls on this table?
I: Nope.
MITCHELL: Well there ya have it. Yannie must necessarily be bright... he must necessarily be.... and... we can't see Him. What else is left?
I: A padded room and maybe a nice new coat?
MITCHELL: What's left is that Yannie must be incorporeal; since we know He is needed and He's not physically present. Make all the jokes you want, my logic is valid and you know it.
I: Actually... that last part does _kinda_ make sense... But... wait a second, what about all this talk of color and brightness if the thing is invisible in the first place?
MITCHELL: The thing is named Yannie, understand? He must be white and bright, we've established that as fact by the arguments above. He must also be incorporeal. Just because we can't picture what an incorporeal entity that is white and bright might look like, doesn't mean said entity doesn't exist! Far from it!
I: Fine.
MITCHELL: You seem to be looking rather pale... and you're kinda making faces at me... but really now, you've heard my reasoning, and I happen to think it's rather sound.
I: Yes, you've done a fine job explaining every part of it to me. But it seems like every time you patch up one of the holes left by my questions... a new hole forms. You must be getting sick of this by now, but I've got another question regarding this new attribute of Yannie's.
MITCHELL: I am a bit sick of this endless line of questions, but don't worry, I plan on bludgeoning you to death soon.
I: HUH?!?!?!
MITCHELL: Kidding, kidding. What, I can't have a sense of humor? Go ahead, ask your questions, young one, Yannie's given me patience.
I: K. Well... how would a non-physical "Yannie Ball" . . . move the physical 8-ball? How could something intangible interact with the tangible? How does the incorporeal have sex with the corporeal? Isn't this all a great big logical contradiction?
MITCHELL: Look, we already know that Yannie is special and has special abilities. So why is it so hard to picture Him having another special ability?
I: Wow, way to sidestep me there, chief.
MITCHELL: Besides, nothing is to hard for Yannie. He's all bright, remember? He's a bright Guy!!!! And furthermore, I'm not claiming to have total knowledge into this sort of thing. I'm not completely bright like Some people are. Do YOU claim to know everything?
I: No I don't claim to know everything.
MITCHELL: Then what is the problem here?
I: Quite frankly: I don't know. Yannie seems to be getting stranger and stranger all the more we talk about him! He's even gone from being a normal Q-ball to being some kind of invisible freak! I'm starting very much to not like Yannie NOR the people who talk about him.
MITCHELL: Then maybe our discussion is over. It's a shame, I thought you'd be able to understand Him and His Greatness. You claim to be able to understand this game of "billiards." I just can't imagine how Yannie and all His Simple Glory could be harder to grasp than such a complicated game of vulgarity; what with its perversions and phallic symbols and all.
I: Hm... would you care to try playing pool?
[Aside: At about this point I was ready to rip MITCHELL's arrogant fuckfilled head off. But something in the back of my mind kept telling me that he's still my friend. That's when something else in the back of my mind started telling me "Hey, if you beat the shit outta this asshole in pool, you'll feel better." And that's the voice I went with. :) I showed MITCHELL how to hold the cue-stick and how to aim the Q-ball [which is no longer named Yannie]. And soon we were half way through our first game. Things weren't that bad. We didn't talk much, but it wasn't awkward. We just sorta enjoyed each other's company whilst listening to the bar fights break out behind us. It was an average night at the pool hall. A lot of greasy, smelly Italian guys were their smokin' cigars, and maybe one or two women were in the place. All in all, very typical. About a half an hour into the game I realized how much I hated playing pool. It's one of those things you tend to forget when you're NOT DOING IT. Alas, _I_ _hate_ _pool_. And I'm very bad it. And it was taking us a half an hour to finish ONE FREAKING GAME. He was nearly as bad as I.]
MITCHELL: Eight-ball, corner pocket. Now if I make this, I win the game, right?
I: Shut your filthy whore mouth.
MITCHELL: No really, I don't remember the rules.
I: In theory you'd win like the whore slut bitch you are.
[MITCHELL shoots. MITCHELL scores. Game over.]
MITCHELL: Not bad, eh? A fun game! Jolly rolly good!
I: Good game, good game. Beginner's luck. ;)
MITCHELL: Non-sense!
I: Well... that and... I am pretty bad at pool...
MITCHELL: Non-sense!
I: Uh... what-sense?
MITCHELL: No, the reason I won the game was because Yannie was with me.
I: GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE! YOU, MR. MITCHELL, MUST GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE! You and your "Yannie the Yahoo Dipshit Motherfucker" are NOT responsible for me being bad at pool, and you winning. OK!?!?!?!
MITCHELL: I beg to differ.
I: Very well, go on. BEG!
MITCHELL: First of all, I don't like you calling Him Yannie anymore. Perhaps it'd be best for you to refer to Him as Johoyannie or The Great One. Second of all, I could feel Johoyannie's presence. Ok? He _was_ with me. I know _that_ more than I know anything. See, all I had to do was concentrate on Him and His Greatness before I made a shot, and when I did that, He'd help me out.
I: Yannie the Yahoo or Johoyannie the Jackoff fucking whore FUCK did NOT help you win the game. That's all in your head. Seriously. Like the Little Engine that Could, it was all in your HEAD.
MITCHELL: He did help me, and I'll prove it to you. I'll play you again.
I: Rack 'em bitch.
MITCHELL: Ok, just promise me you won't call Him Yannie anymore... and maybe you shouldn't call him Johoyannie anymore either... refer to Him as THE SUPRA PERFECT GREAT ONE, or simply as Teacher.
I: I'M NOT CALLING THE IMAGINARY BALL TEACHER! AND ARE YOU GOING TO KEEP CHANGING HIS NAME EVERY TIME I MAKE FUN OF HIM?
MITCHELL: No, I'd just like you to show some respect.
I: Why on EARTH or ... on NON-EARTH ... or on FUCK YOU EARTH ... should I show any inkling of respect to your silly fucking pixy demon?
MITCHELL: Because if you're mean to Him, you will continue to lose games. That has become obvious already. You have to be nice to Him, praise Him even, else you will always lose.
I: FUCK YOU AND ANYONE WHO LOOKS LIKE YOU. NOW RACK THE BALLS, OR I'LL RACK YOUR BALLS IN A FUCKING MEAT SLICER!
MITCHELL: Ok, don't say I didn't warn you.
[Aside: And so it went. We played 5 more games, and I lost every single one. Course, I do really suck at pool, AND I was a tad angry at the time --that mighta contributed to it-- but that's what the outcome was. I lost every game. :( MITCHELL's "delusion" was growing larger and stronger by the second. I made him play one more game, our 7th game total, and ya know what happened? I won! I know, I couldn't believe it either. Musta been a fluke. But that's all I really needed, ya know?]
I: There, THERE, you magnificent bastard. I've finally won a game. Will you give up this pathetic yannie-teacher crap now?
MITCHELL: You have much to learn, young one.
I: Nooooo. I won. You and Your Yannie lost. What's your grand explanation for this one? Did Yannie the cracked out whore get tired? Maybe he's not as bright as you think he is!
MITCHELL: He is all bright. And He is still perfect. The blame for my loss is all my own. I wasn't praying to Him with all my might. I was taking Him for granted, what, with winning 6 straight games and all... No grandiose explanation is needed. It's easy: I did not concentrate like I should have, and I deserved to lose. The Great One was correct in His Divine Judgment.
I: :-O . . . . so.... hm.... So.... He... is the absolute _cause_ whenever you win a game or whenever a game turns out neutral.... but it's all your fault when you lose?
MITCHELL: Correct.
[ASIDE: To keep myself from physically destroying him, I turned straight around and walked out the swinging pool hall doors. It even crossed my mind that beating the hell outta some complete stranger would be better than attacking MITCHELL. But soon, that idea left my mind, and I cooled off. I got a can of Mountain Dew because Mountain Dew makes your sperm count lower. Don't drink Mountain Dew. When I came back, MITCHELL was still standing by the pool table we'd been playing at and talking at for... a good number of hours now. And was reading a piece of papyrus.]
I: Hi hi hi there my little droogie [I shouted from across the room]. Hows the Yannie over there? :)
[MITCHELL, in a fit of rage, tore up the document he had in his hands, and ate it. More curious than ever, I went back over to talk to him.]
I: Whoa, what's wrong with you? Did you just eat that?
MITCHELL: YES, ASSHOLE!
I: Whoa, what's goin' on?
MITCHELL: I thought I told you not to use the name Yannie anymore. That's a very sacred name, and you just shouted it across a public area! To calm myself I shoved the pamphlet down my throat.
I: Well that's an odd reflex. What was on it?
MITCHELL: It just so happens that Yannie appeared before me and gave me instructions on what to say to you. But I was so mad when I heard you, I destroyed them.* Fear not, I can reproduce His Divine Words. *[Note: this is a parody of Exodus 32:19 --in case your audience is that fucking stupid]
I: Uh... that's ok. I think you're insane, remember?
MITCHELL: Aye, that's what the Teacher told me you'd say.
I: Look, has it ever crossed your mind that you are projecting your feelings into this Teacher thing, and are now living through it? It's not an insane phenomenon per se, but it can't be healthy.
MITCHELL: Listen, the Teacher told me some things about you. I now understand how you are so mean to me. You're jealous. And I am no longer mad at you for it's quite understandable. You're upset that the Teacher, the Greatly Revered Yannie, chose to make Himself known through me. And now you're going to be even more upset because He showed me his writing, and didn't show you. There's no need for you to be angry or jealous. Just know that we love you.
I: Ya know, you might be right about that jealously thing. Or you might be completely insane. Anywho, during my little walkabout, I came up with an idea. Something that would help me comprehend "Him" methinks. Could you play pool with someone else here in the pool hall? Maybe you could have Yan... the Teacher... help you beat someone who's actually good.... cause that would be both convincing and enlightening for me.
MITCHELL: Listen, I don't need to test Him, ok? That's a rather rude request to make of Him.
I: Then how come you could test him before?* *[1 Kings 18:23-40 is my favorite evil passage of this ilk]
MITCHELL: Things were different back then. That was before the Teacher told me not to test Him.
[Aside: Upon hearing MITCHELL's last words, I rolled my eyes to the back of my head, let my mouth hang, and just sorta stared at the ceiling until MITCHELL stopped talking. I thought it was funny, especially since he kept goin' on for awhile... but I blocked him out completely. I noticed how scummy the ceiling of this place looked, what with it filled with graffiti and urine and all. How did they get urine up there anyway? Well, it was there and MITCHELL was there, too. He was stuck to me like the graffiti was stuck to the wall. .... those boring, boring walls.... how I longed to a wall .... Then I saw something that made me take a big ole dump in my shorts. After telling MITCHELL to stay where he was so I could clean that out, I came back and told him what I saw.]
I: MITCHELL, dear, sweet MITCHELL, look at THAT. *pointing*
MITCHELL: Wow, a two-thousand pound woman having sex with a cobra. That's messed up...
I: No no no, look at THAT. *pointing and waving*
MITCHELL: You mean the security camera? I happen to think that lady in the corner is A LOT more interesting than...
I: SHUT UP! Look, that little camera is pointing in our table's general direction, is it not?
MITCHELL: I guess, ya.
I: So there's a good chance it videotaped the 8-ball starting to move... about 6 hours ago.
MITCHELL: Ya know, you might just be right about that. Do you want to go to the security desk and ask to see the tapes and be proved wrong?
I: I would love that. :-)
[Aside: So go we did. Sure, it took some convincing to get the out-of-shape security guard ASSHOLE to let us watch the tapes with him. But when we promised him that we'd be standing in front of the same pool table for over 6 hours of footage because of a simple argument... he agreed to it out of pity. Ah, sweet sweet pity. Where would we be without it? I'd probably be stabbing MITCHELL's corpse with a pencil if there was no such thing as "pity" . . . We backed the tape up, and as it turned out, about 6 hours ago, some fat guy was walking by our table right before we entered the area. He bumped into the table--rather violently--and that shook the 8-ball pretty good. Then we walked in and observed its motion. I didn't really know what to say to MITCHELL afterwards... except:]
I: I'm sorry, dude.
MITCHELL: Hey, it was a fun 6 hours. :)
I: Ya, it really was. :) Too bad it had to end like this though...
MITCHELL: Like what?
I: . . . ya know . . .with the camera deciding the truth --instead of us being able to come up with it.
MITCHELL: No camera can decide the truth for a human being.
I: . . . So the whole thing with the fat man moving the 8-ball didn't convince you that the fat man moved the 8-ball?
MITCHELL: The fat man was a part of it, yes. But it's still possible that the Teacher, whose name is Yannie, was also a part of it. I mean the fat man didn't produce the bright spot on the 8-ball, now did he? Psh... that tape showed me nothing I didn't already know.
I: Ya know, that shouldn't surprise me, but it does.
MITCHELL: No camera could capture the essence of an incorporeal entity, we should've known that beforehand. But really now, that whole problem about the 8-ball moving means very little to me anyways.
I: O?
MITCHELL: E!
I: Uh?
MITCHELL: Ah.
I: Stop doing that!
MITCHELL: Yes, I've since acquired the best proof of Yannie's Existence there is. I felt Him touch my soul. When we were playing those games, and I concentrated on Him... I became so convinced beyond ... beyond belief.
I: Well, you can choose to think that way if you want to. I obviously cannot stop you. Lemme warn you though... the danger is not so much that one should believe wrong things --though that is bad enough-- but the danger is that one should become credulous, and lose the habit of testing things and inquiring into stuff... for then man is no longer man; he becomes as dimwitted and thoughtless as a beast.
MITCHELL: Thank you. I will take your words to heart. You sound a lot like William Kingdon Clifford.
I: Shut up. :)
MITCHELL: And I want to warn you of something for the next time you play a game of billiards. If you dishonor the Great Starter Ball, you will lose every game you ever play. And if you honor Him, you will always win. That choice is all yours. I pray you choose wisely.
THIS IS THE END, BEAUTIFUL FRIEND THIS IS THE END, MY ONLY FRIEND, THE END OF OUR ELABORATE PLANS, THE END OF EVERYTHING THAT STANDS, THE END NO SAFETY OR SURPRISE, THE END I'LL NEVER LOOK INTO YOUR EYES AGAIN
CAN YOU PICTURE WHAT WILL BE? SO LUMINOUS AND FREE DESPERATELY IN NEED OF SOME STRANGER'S HAND . . . IN A DESPERATE LAND . . .
LOST IN A ROMANCE WILDERNESS OF PAIN AND ALL THE CHILDREN ARE INSANE ALL THE CHILDREN ARE INSANE WAITING FOR THE SUMMER RAIN YEAH
[snip The End]