After years of preparation, the first Cornelan astronaut was ready to take his historic flight into space.
Though Cornela had no space technology of its own, the nation was eager to use this mission to showcase the advancement of their society and the eminence of their culture.
The vehicle would be a Naser Peace-90 spacecraft, and the Cornelan government had already paid the Naserian government tens of millions to train their elite astronaut team.
This landmark space flight would take place in January - commandeered by the pioneering Cornelan astronaut together with two other Naserian veterans - and they would perform sensitive chemical experiments in orbit.
As the launch date approached, a problem started brewing.
Every Cornelan must face their Ancestor's Hill and beat the ritual Drum ten times, repeating this activity ten times daily.
Two metres high and two metres deep, the Drum is the centrepiece of every Cornelan home and the most important symbol of Cornelan culture.
Failing to perform this ritual would mean that the doors of Paradise would be slammed shut to the Cornelan during his afterlife.
Thus it was imperative that the astronaut must beat the Drum while in space too.
But difficulties abound.
Firstly, the standard 2m X 2m Drum was too large and too heavy to fit in the cramped crew compartment of the Peace-90. Compromises were made and a 50cm X 50cm Drum was installed between two seats in the flight deck.
Next, a Cornelan must face Ancestor's Hill when beating the Drum, otherwise his efforts would be meaningless. But because the astronaut would be in space, the relative position of Ancestor's Hill would be changing rapidly as the spacecraft travels in its orbit.
In order to fulfill this important duty, special modifications were made to the Drum such that it can swivel to face the correct direction. A GPS system was installed to show the astronaut which direction to gradually turn as he beat the Drum, so that he is always precisely aimed at Ancestor's Hill.
Finally, tradition states that a Cornelan must beat the Drum ten times daily. However, the spacecraft would be orbiting the Earth 16 times every 24 hours. As such, the astronaut must beat the Drum 160 times in a 24 hour period!
The Cornelan High Council debated this for weeks. Some Elders thought that it would be more practical to reduce this to 10 times per 24 hours. Many others fiercely opposed it, because such a big departure from tradition would render the whole purpose of Drum beating meaningless.
The astronaut team agreed - a space mission is important, but not so important for a Cornelan to forgo his eternity in Paradise.
Eventually the launch day arrived.
Journalists all over the world converged at the Bronhare Spaceport as the first Cornelan blasts off into space.
It was a joyous occasion of tremendous national and cultural pride.
The mission then proceeded without a hitch, with the Cornelan performing nearly 800 Drum beats during the five-day spaceflight.
The sensitive chemical experiments were abandoned of course, because vibrations from the Drum were disrupting the tiny crystals that were grown in orbit. So the two Naserian chemical specialists played cards and listened to folk songs instead.
On the fifth day, the Peace-90 spacecraft re-entered the atmosphere accurately and safely splashed-down into the Baldrick Sea.
The astronauts were given a hero's welcome. Cornela's first astronaut was given a special award by the King himself.
It was an absolute success.
Friday, 21 September 2007
Monday, 21 May 2007
Impossible Task
Once, there was a man who liked making pots. He handmade simple pots for holding water.
A friend convinced him to turn his interest into a business. He wanted the pot-maker to become the boss of this company and said that he would become the technical assistant.
The pot-maker thought that a technical assistant should work on the technical aspects of the company. So he asked his friend to prepare a production plan.
But the plan never came.
Instead his friend came back with many statistics about the potential market of waterpots. He dreamt of how rich they will soon become.
So the pot-maker made his own production plan, since he was more familiar with the details of pot making anyway. He then asked the technical assistant to work on a financial plan.
Again the plan never came. His friend only gave him bits of information about the cost of raw materials, but flooded the pot-maker with loads of statistics about huge global market for water containers of every possible type. He was also working on the expansion plan to turn the company into an international corporation. He told the pot-maker how he would buy a car and buy his mother a present when they became rich.
And so the pot-maker made his own financial plan.
Without anyone realizing it, things were gradually changing. Instead of the boss, the pot-maker had become a technical assistant, while the technical assistant wasn't doing anything technical at all.
When the pot-maker tried to think of his own market idea, his friend became furious, banged on the table and shouted at him. The pot-maker became more and more frightened of his friend.
His friend wanted to become a grand market strategist.
The pot-maker was just happy to receive any form of help. He focused his efforts on designing a simple pot that can hold water.
He then passed this prototype pot to his friend.
"No," his friend said. "Your pot lacks details. It needs many details to be a good pot."
Although his friend was not an artist and has never made a pot before, the pot-maker had no idea what kind of pot the market wanted, so he let his friend modify the design.
When the redesigned pot came back, the pot-maker was stunned.
Many large globs of clay were stuck on the pot in a disorganized fashion. The simple aesthetics of the pot had been transformed into a hideous mess. To make things worse, deep cracks were made into the pot such that it now leaks water.
The pot-maker was disappointed but he didn't want to offend his friend. So he tried his best to carve a simple design by cutting off as little of the clay as he could. He then plugged the cracks in the pot so that it no longer leaks.
When his friend saw the refined pot, he was pleased with its improved appearance. The pot-maker asked his friend to help remove more of the clay to make the pot better.
However, instead of reducing the clay, his friend went ahead to add more and created more cracks. This time the additional clay bits were so sharp that a person could get injured by these protrusions.
The pot-maker was devastated. He didn't want to get scolded by his friend but he had to remove those dangerous points. It was a stressful decision.
To his relief the friend accepted those changes and the first production pot was completed.
Next, they had to make a promotion brochure to help sell the pot. The printing company originally allocated two pages for them, but due to practical limitations that was reduced to a one-page pamphlet.
The original brochure design was too long to fit in one page.
The pot-maker removed some details from the brochure design and asked his friend to help remove more details.
To his horror, his friend once again added more information, including detailed statistics of a market segment they were not even entering. He demoted the main market segment to the bottom of the pamphlet. Even worse, there was much more text than even the original brochure.
When the pot-maker asked his friend to reduce the information and simplify the text, he started to get angry again. He wanted the pot-maker to do the editing.
The pot-maker was faced with an increasingly impossible task - how could you fit more stuff into less space and still have large, readable fonts?
He gave up completely and asked his friend to prepare the whole brochure. Later the pot-maker called his friend to check on his progress. His friend was very angry because despite his efforts he could not fit all his stuff into one page.
The pot-maker said "I am the only one who can fit the brochure into one page."
His friend retorted "That is because you are an egomanic!"
To which the pot-maker weakly replied "No. It's because I have less stuff."
His friend was still furious and scolded the pot-maker continuously for a few minutes.
Suddenly the pot-maker felt a crushing pain on his chest, screamed and collapsed.
A friend convinced him to turn his interest into a business. He wanted the pot-maker to become the boss of this company and said that he would become the technical assistant.
The pot-maker thought that a technical assistant should work on the technical aspects of the company. So he asked his friend to prepare a production plan.
But the plan never came.
Instead his friend came back with many statistics about the potential market of waterpots. He dreamt of how rich they will soon become.
So the pot-maker made his own production plan, since he was more familiar with the details of pot making anyway. He then asked the technical assistant to work on a financial plan.
Again the plan never came. His friend only gave him bits of information about the cost of raw materials, but flooded the pot-maker with loads of statistics about huge global market for water containers of every possible type. He was also working on the expansion plan to turn the company into an international corporation. He told the pot-maker how he would buy a car and buy his mother a present when they became rich.
And so the pot-maker made his own financial plan.
Without anyone realizing it, things were gradually changing. Instead of the boss, the pot-maker had become a technical assistant, while the technical assistant wasn't doing anything technical at all.
When the pot-maker tried to think of his own market idea, his friend became furious, banged on the table and shouted at him. The pot-maker became more and more frightened of his friend.
His friend wanted to become a grand market strategist.
The pot-maker was just happy to receive any form of help. He focused his efforts on designing a simple pot that can hold water.
He then passed this prototype pot to his friend.
"No," his friend said. "Your pot lacks details. It needs many details to be a good pot."
Although his friend was not an artist and has never made a pot before, the pot-maker had no idea what kind of pot the market wanted, so he let his friend modify the design.
When the redesigned pot came back, the pot-maker was stunned.
Many large globs of clay were stuck on the pot in a disorganized fashion. The simple aesthetics of the pot had been transformed into a hideous mess. To make things worse, deep cracks were made into the pot such that it now leaks water.
The pot-maker was disappointed but he didn't want to offend his friend. So he tried his best to carve a simple design by cutting off as little of the clay as he could. He then plugged the cracks in the pot so that it no longer leaks.
When his friend saw the refined pot, he was pleased with its improved appearance. The pot-maker asked his friend to help remove more of the clay to make the pot better.
However, instead of reducing the clay, his friend went ahead to add more and created more cracks. This time the additional clay bits were so sharp that a person could get injured by these protrusions.
The pot-maker was devastated. He didn't want to get scolded by his friend but he had to remove those dangerous points. It was a stressful decision.
To his relief the friend accepted those changes and the first production pot was completed.
Next, they had to make a promotion brochure to help sell the pot. The printing company originally allocated two pages for them, but due to practical limitations that was reduced to a one-page pamphlet.
The original brochure design was too long to fit in one page.
The pot-maker removed some details from the brochure design and asked his friend to help remove more details.
To his horror, his friend once again added more information, including detailed statistics of a market segment they were not even entering. He demoted the main market segment to the bottom of the pamphlet. Even worse, there was much more text than even the original brochure.
When the pot-maker asked his friend to reduce the information and simplify the text, he started to get angry again. He wanted the pot-maker to do the editing.
The pot-maker was faced with an increasingly impossible task - how could you fit more stuff into less space and still have large, readable fonts?
He gave up completely and asked his friend to prepare the whole brochure. Later the pot-maker called his friend to check on his progress. His friend was very angry because despite his efforts he could not fit all his stuff into one page.
The pot-maker said "I am the only one who can fit the brochure into one page."
His friend retorted "That is because you are an egomanic!"
To which the pot-maker weakly replied "No. It's because I have less stuff."
His friend was still furious and scolded the pot-maker continuously for a few minutes.
Suddenly the pot-maker felt a crushing pain on his chest, screamed and collapsed.
Thursday, 25 January 2007
New 'Three Little Pigs' Story
...by the flickering candle-light, the three little pigs were in deep thought.
"The wolf is approaching fast. Our booby traps will not hold him for much longer. We need to build fortifications and we need them NOW."
"If we want haste, then we should build houses out of straw. I can gather the materials in one day and finish assembly by the next."
"No, straw will not hold. We should build houses out of sticks. It will take a few days to gather these from the woods and a few more to put them together. But it should be able to resist wolf attacks much better."
"My brothers, you underestimate the strength of a wolf! We need a house of bricks. True, it will take a week to prepare the materials and another week for construction, but it is the ultimate defence against wolves and all other predators."
"To increase our chances of survival, let's build our houses differently. Speed or strength... we can't have both."
The three little pigs started building feverishly, but the wolf was nearly there.
On the third day, the wolf arrived at the door of the first little pig. The straw house was built in two days, and the pig had spent a day resting.
"Little pig, little pig, let me in."
"Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!"
"Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll ram your house down!"
The house of straw finally fell, but the pig was energetic enough to escape with some injuries.
On the sixth day, the wolf arrived at the door of the second little pig. The stick house was just completed and the pig was tired.
"Little pig, little pig, let me in."
"Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!"
"Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll ram your house down!"
The house of sticks lasted longer, but in time, it fell too. Luckily the wolf was worn out by the repeated ramming and couldn't catch the escaping pig, who escaped with minor injuries.
On the nineth day, the wolf arrived at the door of the third little pig. The brick house wasn't due for completion until five days later. The pig was still building desperately and was caught completely by surprise.
"Little pig, little pig, let me in."
"Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!"
"Then I'll huff and I'll puff... and oh look there's a hole in your construction"
So the wolf sneaked in to find a frightened and completely exhausted pig inside.
And ate him up.
"The wolf is approaching fast. Our booby traps will not hold him for much longer. We need to build fortifications and we need them NOW."
"If we want haste, then we should build houses out of straw. I can gather the materials in one day and finish assembly by the next."
"No, straw will not hold. We should build houses out of sticks. It will take a few days to gather these from the woods and a few more to put them together. But it should be able to resist wolf attacks much better."
"My brothers, you underestimate the strength of a wolf! We need a house of bricks. True, it will take a week to prepare the materials and another week for construction, but it is the ultimate defence against wolves and all other predators."
"To increase our chances of survival, let's build our houses differently. Speed or strength... we can't have both."
The three little pigs started building feverishly, but the wolf was nearly there.
On the third day, the wolf arrived at the door of the first little pig. The straw house was built in two days, and the pig had spent a day resting.
"Little pig, little pig, let me in."
"Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!"
"Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll ram your house down!"
The house of straw finally fell, but the pig was energetic enough to escape with some injuries.
On the sixth day, the wolf arrived at the door of the second little pig. The stick house was just completed and the pig was tired.
"Little pig, little pig, let me in."
"Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!"
"Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll ram your house down!"
The house of sticks lasted longer, but in time, it fell too. Luckily the wolf was worn out by the repeated ramming and couldn't catch the escaping pig, who escaped with minor injuries.
On the nineth day, the wolf arrived at the door of the third little pig. The brick house wasn't due for completion until five days later. The pig was still building desperately and was caught completely by surprise.
"Little pig, little pig, let me in."
"Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!"
"Then I'll huff and I'll puff... and oh look there's a hole in your construction"
So the wolf sneaked in to find a frightened and completely exhausted pig inside.
And ate him up.
The Archer who shot down the Sun
A long time ago in the Ancient World, there was a master archer.
He was a skillful archer with impeccable strength and accuracy.
Although he was a young man, he liked to boast to his fellow archers that he came from a long family history of superb archers.
The other archers simply shrugged off his arrogance, because they knew part of the reason why he could shoot so far and so accurately was because someone else made his bows and arrows.
Then one day, the Archer decided to prove himself to his critics. He modified his own bow and arrow to have incredible range. As an ultimate demonstration of his superiority, he would aim at the Sun.
But instead of announcing this to everyone, he kept it quiet. For fear of humiliation, he wanted to reveal his actions only AFTER he has successfully shot the Sun.
So he took a hard look at the Sun, pulled back on the recurve and...
*ZOOOK!*
The arrow flew straight into the Sun. He did it!
However, to his horror, the Sun then exploded into hundreds of pieces and spread deadly debris throughout space.
The following "day" not only was there no Sun, but deadly debris was raining from the sky and becoming a hazard to everyone.
The other archers protested angrily "Why did you shoot down the Sun? Now we will always have darkness, interrupted by random flashes of deadly rain!"
The Archer replied condescendingly "Hah! You guys are just jealous that I can hit the Sun."
In reality, a few of the other archers could have hit the Sun years ago, but restrained themselves to avoid an environmental catastrophe. They tried to explain this, but the Archer simply ignored them.
He simply hummed a victory tune to himself.
While the sky came down in pieces around him.
He was a skillful archer with impeccable strength and accuracy.
Although he was a young man, he liked to boast to his fellow archers that he came from a long family history of superb archers.
The other archers simply shrugged off his arrogance, because they knew part of the reason why he could shoot so far and so accurately was because someone else made his bows and arrows.
Then one day, the Archer decided to prove himself to his critics. He modified his own bow and arrow to have incredible range. As an ultimate demonstration of his superiority, he would aim at the Sun.
But instead of announcing this to everyone, he kept it quiet. For fear of humiliation, he wanted to reveal his actions only AFTER he has successfully shot the Sun.
So he took a hard look at the Sun, pulled back on the recurve and...
*ZOOOK!*
The arrow flew straight into the Sun. He did it!
However, to his horror, the Sun then exploded into hundreds of pieces and spread deadly debris throughout space.
The following "day" not only was there no Sun, but deadly debris was raining from the sky and becoming a hazard to everyone.
The other archers protested angrily "Why did you shoot down the Sun? Now we will always have darkness, interrupted by random flashes of deadly rain!"
The Archer replied condescendingly "Hah! You guys are just jealous that I can hit the Sun."
In reality, a few of the other archers could have hit the Sun years ago, but restrained themselves to avoid an environmental catastrophe. They tried to explain this, but the Archer simply ignored them.
He simply hummed a victory tune to himself.
While the sky came down in pieces around him.
Sunday, 14 January 2007
The Messenger's Fury
A long time ago, there was a powerful Kingdom in the ancient world.
The Kingdom was ruled by a wise royal family. They realize that in order to administer the Kingdom effectively, they must have control over the judges, the soldiers and the messengers.
Their most influential messenger was a grand old lady called Gwen Forsynth.
As the chief messenger, her duty to the Kingdom was to convey accurate information to the peasants and workers. She was also the official spokesperson of the royal family.
Despite her cool and impartial appearance, Madam Forsynth was a very tortured soul.
On one hand she lived among the peasants and workers, and talked often with them, so she identified with them.
On the other hand she had frequent audiences with the royal family, and understood the importance of their decisions, so she respected them greatly.
The problem is - whenever the royal family and the workers disagree, they both tend to blame Mdm Forsynth.
The royal family reminds Gwen to exercise restraint over her words, because miscommunications can be devastating to the Kingdom. The workers accuse Gwen of withholding too many words, because that is a form of miscommunication.
Caught in the middle and shot by both sides, Gwen was plagued with inner conflict. It was a pent-up frustration that was waiting for a chance to explode.
Then one day, that opportunity came.
A friend of the royal family made a glaring mistake.
He was the head officer of T&T Welfare Services, which obtains funds from the workers and redirects them to needy people. He had become greedy over the years and was diverting much of this money into his own pocket.
Gwen was suspicious of T&T because of the officer's extravagant ways and his arrogance. She hinted to the workers as diplomatically as she always did, that T&T had controversial practices.
This "hint" immediately drew the ire of T&T, which read the insinuation as a direct accusation. T&T wanted blood. The head officer challenged Gwen to a public duel to defend his honour.
Gwen tried to settle this disagreement privately, but the T&T head was unmoved. He was an expert marksman who had shot dead some of his opponents before. He looked down on Gwen, a mere old lady.
He was sure that he would win.
On the fateful day of the duel, Gwen and the head officer were each handed a flintlock pistol. They paced outwards, back to back.
3...2...1... FIRE!!!
POP! POP!
The head officer was shocked. His shot went completely wide. Gwen's shot however, stuck him right at his chest.
To add insult to injury, the head officer's formal dress was damaged by the blast, causing all of his ill-gotten gold coins to drop all over the ground.
T&T was finished. But Gwen was not done yet.
Shrieking like a crazy woman, she repacked the black powder, reloaded her flintlock and shot the officer again and again, with child-like pleasure in her eyes.
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!
It was relentless. She knew that the royal family would not protest because he was a "mere friend". She used this opportunity to release all of her inner frustrations.
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!
This went on for days and days. Although the head officer's body was already shot through like swiss cheese, Gwen refused to stop.
The royal family could only smile weakly and pretended not to notice.
The Kingdom was ruled by a wise royal family. They realize that in order to administer the Kingdom effectively, they must have control over the judges, the soldiers and the messengers.
Their most influential messenger was a grand old lady called Gwen Forsynth.
As the chief messenger, her duty to the Kingdom was to convey accurate information to the peasants and workers. She was also the official spokesperson of the royal family.
Despite her cool and impartial appearance, Madam Forsynth was a very tortured soul.
On one hand she lived among the peasants and workers, and talked often with them, so she identified with them.
On the other hand she had frequent audiences with the royal family, and understood the importance of their decisions, so she respected them greatly.
The problem is - whenever the royal family and the workers disagree, they both tend to blame Mdm Forsynth.
The royal family reminds Gwen to exercise restraint over her words, because miscommunications can be devastating to the Kingdom. The workers accuse Gwen of withholding too many words, because that is a form of miscommunication.
Caught in the middle and shot by both sides, Gwen was plagued with inner conflict. It was a pent-up frustration that was waiting for a chance to explode.
Then one day, that opportunity came.
A friend of the royal family made a glaring mistake.
He was the head officer of T&T Welfare Services, which obtains funds from the workers and redirects them to needy people. He had become greedy over the years and was diverting much of this money into his own pocket.
Gwen was suspicious of T&T because of the officer's extravagant ways and his arrogance. She hinted to the workers as diplomatically as she always did, that T&T had controversial practices.
This "hint" immediately drew the ire of T&T, which read the insinuation as a direct accusation. T&T wanted blood. The head officer challenged Gwen to a public duel to defend his honour.
Gwen tried to settle this disagreement privately, but the T&T head was unmoved. He was an expert marksman who had shot dead some of his opponents before. He looked down on Gwen, a mere old lady.
He was sure that he would win.
On the fateful day of the duel, Gwen and the head officer were each handed a flintlock pistol. They paced outwards, back to back.
3...2...1... FIRE!!!
POP! POP!
The head officer was shocked. His shot went completely wide. Gwen's shot however, stuck him right at his chest.
To add insult to injury, the head officer's formal dress was damaged by the blast, causing all of his ill-gotten gold coins to drop all over the ground.
T&T was finished. But Gwen was not done yet.
Shrieking like a crazy woman, she repacked the black powder, reloaded her flintlock and shot the officer again and again, with child-like pleasure in her eyes.
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!
It was relentless. She knew that the royal family would not protest because he was a "mere friend". She used this opportunity to release all of her inner frustrations.
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!
This went on for days and days. Although the head officer's body was already shot through like swiss cheese, Gwen refused to stop.
The royal family could only smile weakly and pretended not to notice.
Where we came from...
"So class, this is where we came from. The sperm and the egg from our parents fuse to become the one-cell zygote. Then the foetus grows and grows and is born to become a healthy baby!"
The teacher was giving a presentation on sex education to a room full of giggling teenagers.
Then suddenly a mocking laughter was heard and a boy stood up, shaking his head.
"Teacher, you are completely wrong!"
"What do you mean, Arthur?"
"How can a complex human being arise from just a single cell? This is utterly ridiculous. You, as a smart well-educated teacher, can tell us that a single cell, due to random chance can become the trillions of cells that make up a person?"
"But Arthur, the development process isn't just random chance..."
"Ha Ha Ha! A single cell dividing randomly will become a person? Every cell must ensure that newly divided cells must be in the exactly correct position. And the next cell must ensure that too. And the next... there are trillions of cells! The probability is one in ten kazillion!"
"No Arthur, the absolute position is not critical..."
"HA HA HA! Don't you realize that human beings are exactly like mechanical watches? We have millions of parts that must fit together perfectly to function - it is irreducible! If your lungs are growing faster than your ribs, you will explode! If your heart is growing slower, then your blood vessels cannot reach your brain! Everything is perfect!"
"Wait a second. Arthur, aren't you growing? You are much taller than you were last year, but your eyes growing less. Won't that make your eyeballs fall out of your sockets?
"Of course not, stupid teacher. I didn't exist last year. I was instantly created last night at 12 midnight, fully formed and completely perfect."
The teacher was giving a presentation on sex education to a room full of giggling teenagers.
Then suddenly a mocking laughter was heard and a boy stood up, shaking his head.
"Teacher, you are completely wrong!"
"What do you mean, Arthur?"
"How can a complex human being arise from just a single cell? This is utterly ridiculous. You, as a smart well-educated teacher, can tell us that a single cell, due to random chance can become the trillions of cells that make up a person?"
"But Arthur, the development process isn't just random chance..."
"Ha Ha Ha! A single cell dividing randomly will become a person? Every cell must ensure that newly divided cells must be in the exactly correct position. And the next cell must ensure that too. And the next... there are trillions of cells! The probability is one in ten kazillion!"
"No Arthur, the absolute position is not critical..."
"HA HA HA! Don't you realize that human beings are exactly like mechanical watches? We have millions of parts that must fit together perfectly to function - it is irreducible! If your lungs are growing faster than your ribs, you will explode! If your heart is growing slower, then your blood vessels cannot reach your brain! Everything is perfect!"
"Wait a second. Arthur, aren't you growing? You are much taller than you were last year, but your eyes growing less. Won't that make your eyeballs fall out of your sockets?
"Of course not, stupid teacher. I didn't exist last year. I was instantly created last night at 12 midnight, fully formed and completely perfect."
A Tale of Two Families
It was just two days after she arrived, but she was already growing more and more impatient.
Our guest was a middle-aged lady in her fifties. She was a distant relative of our family, but she had important connections to the corporation. Thus, by company orders we were instructed to treat her well during her stay here, which was for an indefinite length of time.
We were uncomfortable but tried our best to accommodate her needs, which were difficult to fulfill indeed. She is a matriarch of her own family - too accustomed to a privileged life back home.
Despite our efforts her patience was running out and she was making more and more snide comments in our presence.
"Your house is so small! Back home my house is much larger and prettier and better. We have a amazing view with tall mountains and beautiful lakes."
"Your family is so small! We have a big family full of happy children who respect their elders."
"You have so little family history! We can trace our ancestry hundreds of years back."
"You have such stupid hobbies like playing video games and shopping. At home we write beautiful poems and compose elegant music."
One day she returned from work especially riled at something, and lashed out at us.
"Your family is an impure mixed breed. My family is a pure and unpolluted pedigree!"
Elder brother immediately took offence and responded.
"If you are so great, how come you are a single mum? Where is your wonderful husband?"
She argued back with rage in her eyes "that is my family business! My husband will forever belong to my family - he is only temporarily seduced by that treacherous lover. Everyone knows how much I love him - when he returns to my warm embrace, he will finally be able to serve me like he did before!"
She then glared at elder brother. "Your family once belonged to our family. Why do you insist on speaking an impure language? Why do you interact with inferior people? Why do you have such vulgar hobbies?"
He took a deep breath and calmly rebuffed, "our family existed shortly after your family existed, Madam. Though we are distant relatives, we don't 'belong' to your family. Just because you can trace your ancestry a few hundred years back doesn't mean that you are a few hundred years old."
Our guest was a middle-aged lady in her fifties. She was a distant relative of our family, but she had important connections to the corporation. Thus, by company orders we were instructed to treat her well during her stay here, which was for an indefinite length of time.
We were uncomfortable but tried our best to accommodate her needs, which were difficult to fulfill indeed. She is a matriarch of her own family - too accustomed to a privileged life back home.
Despite our efforts her patience was running out and she was making more and more snide comments in our presence.
"Your house is so small! Back home my house is much larger and prettier and better. We have a amazing view with tall mountains and beautiful lakes."
"Your family is so small! We have a big family full of happy children who respect their elders."
"You have so little family history! We can trace our ancestry hundreds of years back."
"You have such stupid hobbies like playing video games and shopping. At home we write beautiful poems and compose elegant music."
One day she returned from work especially riled at something, and lashed out at us.
"Your family is an impure mixed breed. My family is a pure and unpolluted pedigree!"
Elder brother immediately took offence and responded.
"If you are so great, how come you are a single mum? Where is your wonderful husband?"
She argued back with rage in her eyes "that is my family business! My husband will forever belong to my family - he is only temporarily seduced by that treacherous lover. Everyone knows how much I love him - when he returns to my warm embrace, he will finally be able to serve me like he did before!"
She then glared at elder brother. "Your family once belonged to our family. Why do you insist on speaking an impure language? Why do you interact with inferior people? Why do you have such vulgar hobbies?"
He took a deep breath and calmly rebuffed, "our family existed shortly after your family existed, Madam. Though we are distant relatives, we don't 'belong' to your family. Just because you can trace your ancestry a few hundred years back doesn't mean that you are a few hundred years old."
If you are not with us, you are against us
Long time ago in the ancient world, there was a Big Kingdom called the Confederated Provinces of Truthisms and McLibertisms.
It was ruled by a King named Bernard "Hawk" Gardner The Second.
One day, a clandestine political faction called the "Tarists" sabotaged numerous properties inside the Kingdom and killed many people.
The enraged King Gardner announced a rallying call to all the other leaders of the ancient world. There will be a great War to eradicate all the Tarists in the world.
"IF YOU ARE NOT WITH US, YOU ARE WITH THE TARISTS!"
A diplomat from the Republic of Kaffays and Burreys didn't like the sound of that.
"Actually, your majesty, we are not with you, but we are against the Tarists."
"You are not with us? Then you are a Tarist!"
"But we are against Tarists."
"Then YOU ARE WITH US!"
"But we are also against you."
"How can that be? You already said you are against Tarists. How can you turn around and say that you can be against us? Young man don't test my patience!!!"
"Your majesty we are against both the Confederated Provinces AND the Tarists. Since you are not with the Republic of K&B, you are with the Tarists."
"But we are AGAINST the Tarists!"
King Gardner can never understand how anyone can be both against the Confederated Provinces and the Tarists.
Everyone else (except King Bloomy Tare of the Union of Fish and Chips) could not understand why everyone must be with the C.P.T.M in order to be against the Tarists.
Eventually King Gardner attacked a rival Kingdom by sabotaging their property and killing many people.
The Tarists themselves were rather confused, because despite the destruction somehow they were left nearly untouched.
It was ruled by a King named Bernard "Hawk" Gardner The Second.
One day, a clandestine political faction called the "Tarists" sabotaged numerous properties inside the Kingdom and killed many people.
The enraged King Gardner announced a rallying call to all the other leaders of the ancient world. There will be a great War to eradicate all the Tarists in the world.
"IF YOU ARE NOT WITH US, YOU ARE WITH THE TARISTS!"
A diplomat from the Republic of Kaffays and Burreys didn't like the sound of that.
"Actually, your majesty, we are not with you, but we are against the Tarists."
"You are not with us? Then you are a Tarist!"
"But we are against Tarists."
"Then YOU ARE WITH US!"
"But we are also against you."
"How can that be? You already said you are against Tarists. How can you turn around and say that you can be against us? Young man don't test my patience!!!"
"Your majesty we are against both the Confederated Provinces AND the Tarists. Since you are not with the Republic of K&B, you are with the Tarists."
"But we are AGAINST the Tarists!"
King Gardner can never understand how anyone can be both against the Confederated Provinces and the Tarists.
Everyone else (except King Bloomy Tare of the Union of Fish and Chips) could not understand why everyone must be with the C.P.T.M in order to be against the Tarists.
Eventually King Gardner attacked a rival Kingdom by sabotaging their property and killing many people.
The Tarists themselves were rather confused, because despite the destruction somehow they were left nearly untouched.
A Long Long Marathon Story
A long long time ago in the Ancient World, there was a sports event in the Olympics called the Marathon.
Athletes have to run a distance of exactly 42 kilolor in order to reach the destination and win a prize. The fastest runners win the best prizes.
The marathon is a popular event, but it costs money to organize it. So one day the organizers thought of a way to make money and keep it going. They will charge spectators money to watch it from the roadsides. In return they promise a better prize for the top runners.
Every year they make more and more money. But soon there is limited space for all the runners to start on the same line. Worse, there is no more space for spectators to squeeze into the the 42 kilolor route.
The organizers want more money, so they need more spectators and more runners.
How to solve this?
Turns out that the unit "Lor" was not universally agreed upon. So every year, the organizers quietly increase the length of the Lor until "42 kilolor" is a bit longer. Now more spectators can squeeze in and more money comes in.
The contestants realize that the marathon feels a little tougher every year, but the change wasn't much and everyone soon go used to it. Older runners retired and the younger runners had no idea that 42 kilolor used to be much shorter.
In time the marathon was increased to about 70 kilolor long. Many contestants simply collapsed of sheer exhaustion long before the finish line. To increase the excitement, horse chariots kept the pace from behind.
The slower runners were simply rolled over by the chariots.
Athletes have to run a distance of exactly 42 kilolor in order to reach the destination and win a prize. The fastest runners win the best prizes.
The marathon is a popular event, but it costs money to organize it. So one day the organizers thought of a way to make money and keep it going. They will charge spectators money to watch it from the roadsides. In return they promise a better prize for the top runners.
Every year they make more and more money. But soon there is limited space for all the runners to start on the same line. Worse, there is no more space for spectators to squeeze into the the 42 kilolor route.
The organizers want more money, so they need more spectators and more runners.
How to solve this?
Turns out that the unit "Lor" was not universally agreed upon. So every year, the organizers quietly increase the length of the Lor until "42 kilolor" is a bit longer. Now more spectators can squeeze in and more money comes in.
The contestants realize that the marathon feels a little tougher every year, but the change wasn't much and everyone soon go used to it. Older runners retired and the younger runners had no idea that 42 kilolor used to be much shorter.
In time the marathon was increased to about 70 kilolor long. Many contestants simply collapsed of sheer exhaustion long before the finish line. To increase the excitement, horse chariots kept the pace from behind.
The slower runners were simply rolled over by the chariots.
The Invisible Hypercomputer
A long long time ago, on a planet far far away, there were a group of wise elders who invented a hypercomputer.
The Hypercomputer was twelve stories high and made of wood. It could answer any request posed by any person. To consult the Hypercomputer, all you need is to pay the elders a voluntary donation.
It gives only three answers - Yes, No or Wait.
But because it did not have a display screen or motors of any type, you cannot determine what its response is when you first ask. You can only tell after the actual event has occurred.
For example, if a person requests for good health from the Hypercomputer and he recovers, then he knows the answer is Yes.
If his health worsens, he knows the answer is No. If his health doesn't change, then the answer is Wait.
For thousands of years the Hypercomputer served the planet well. The people believed that whether war or peace, whether poverty or riches, for better or worse the Hypercomputer has predicted them all. If you have a request, no matter how big or how small you can approach the elders to access the Hypercomputer.
Then one day a young man who specializes in making microcomputers was tasked with cleaning the exterior of the Hypercomputer. Curious, he sneaked into the Hypercomputer interior and realized that there is nothing inside the Hypercomputer at all.
It was an empty statue made of wood.
He went on the streets screaming, "we've all been fooled! The Hypercomputer is only an empty statue! It can't reply to anything that we can't reply ourselves!"
The elders were not amused. They clarified that the mechanism of the Hypercomputer is invisible, because it extends into another dimension. The young man was brutally punished in the public square for his transgression. People hurled abuses and objects at the accused.
As he laid dying, he kept repeating these words, "Yes, No or Wait...Yes, No or Wait..."
The Hypercomputer was twelve stories high and made of wood. It could answer any request posed by any person. To consult the Hypercomputer, all you need is to pay the elders a voluntary donation.
It gives only three answers - Yes, No or Wait.
But because it did not have a display screen or motors of any type, you cannot determine what its response is when you first ask. You can only tell after the actual event has occurred.
For example, if a person requests for good health from the Hypercomputer and he recovers, then he knows the answer is Yes.
If his health worsens, he knows the answer is No. If his health doesn't change, then the answer is Wait.
For thousands of years the Hypercomputer served the planet well. The people believed that whether war or peace, whether poverty or riches, for better or worse the Hypercomputer has predicted them all. If you have a request, no matter how big or how small you can approach the elders to access the Hypercomputer.
Then one day a young man who specializes in making microcomputers was tasked with cleaning the exterior of the Hypercomputer. Curious, he sneaked into the Hypercomputer interior and realized that there is nothing inside the Hypercomputer at all.
It was an empty statue made of wood.
He went on the streets screaming, "we've all been fooled! The Hypercomputer is only an empty statue! It can't reply to anything that we can't reply ourselves!"
The elders were not amused. They clarified that the mechanism of the Hypercomputer is invisible, because it extends into another dimension. The young man was brutally punished in the public square for his transgression. People hurled abuses and objects at the accused.
As he laid dying, he kept repeating these words, "Yes, No or Wait...Yes, No or Wait..."
Ah Kong Tell Old Story
A long long time ago, there was a village filled with hardworking people.
The village is often approached by filthy beggars and other poor, useless folk. The village elders ordered the villagers to chase them out immediately because these beggars are poor and useless.
One day, a group of strangers came in bearing many expensive, beautiful gifts. The elders welcome them in enthusiastically because they are not poor and useless. They are rich and wonderful. They are welcome to stay in this village as long as they bring in beautiful, pricey presents. What splendid presents they are! They are dazzling and beautiful. The best presents ever!
Then somebody noticed that things are going missing in the village. But everyone was too polite and respectful of the elders to tell it. The elders have worked too hard to be informed of this minor problem. After all, people can be forgetful, who knows when the things will suddenly reappear!
Ah, those forgetful villagers.
So things kept disappearing. And the strangers keep producing new gifts. Everyone was happy. Everyone was discussing in private about their missing things, but they were all too polite to tell the elders. The elders invited more and more gift-bearing strangers into the village.
One day, the strangers stopped presenting new gifts and left. The elders thought nothing of it because they have received so many gifts.
But when they toured the village, it was empty and barren. Many villagers have died of starvation. Nobody knows why because nobody told anybody what was going on.
The village elders were furious. "YOU LAZY BUMS! Get up and work!" They did not realize that, until recently, the villagers have never worked so hard before. Exploding with rage, the elders punished the remaining starving villagers until they all died.
The village is often approached by filthy beggars and other poor, useless folk. The village elders ordered the villagers to chase them out immediately because these beggars are poor and useless.
One day, a group of strangers came in bearing many expensive, beautiful gifts. The elders welcome them in enthusiastically because they are not poor and useless. They are rich and wonderful. They are welcome to stay in this village as long as they bring in beautiful, pricey presents. What splendid presents they are! They are dazzling and beautiful. The best presents ever!
Then somebody noticed that things are going missing in the village. But everyone was too polite and respectful of the elders to tell it. The elders have worked too hard to be informed of this minor problem. After all, people can be forgetful, who knows when the things will suddenly reappear!
Ah, those forgetful villagers.
So things kept disappearing. And the strangers keep producing new gifts. Everyone was happy. Everyone was discussing in private about their missing things, but they were all too polite to tell the elders. The elders invited more and more gift-bearing strangers into the village.
One day, the strangers stopped presenting new gifts and left. The elders thought nothing of it because they have received so many gifts.
But when they toured the village, it was empty and barren. Many villagers have died of starvation. Nobody knows why because nobody told anybody what was going on.
The village elders were furious. "YOU LAZY BUMS! Get up and work!" They did not realize that, until recently, the villagers have never worked so hard before. Exploding with rage, the elders punished the remaining starving villagers until they all died.
New 'Boy Who Cried Wolf' Story
...crouching nervously in the tall grasses, the little boy spied a animal in a distance, eyes gleaming eerily in the moonlight.
A wolf.
He drew back as the wolf approached. The village elders must be informed! The little boy ran barefoot into the village and cried "WOLF! WOLF!"
But the villagers were not impressed. The elders have insisted that there were no wolves in the vicinity, only harmless wild dogs.
The sheep that have mysteriously died due to fierce attacks? Diseases.
The howling at night? Villagers' own hyperactive imagination.
There were no wolves. Period.
The little boy cried and cried a stream of tears "but there are wolves! I saw them just outside, circling in. Why won't you believe me?"
He cried until his voice was gone.
The villagers will never hear the baseless, pointless cry of stupid useless boy - they only listen to the elders.
But the wolves were not detered by the elders' denial. Two days later, a baby disappeared.
Then some children vanished.
A few adults never returned from the night.
The elders finally spoke. There was a WOLF! In fact there were packs of them outside for weeks, and yet nobody noticed their presence?
Furious, they asked - where is the little boy who held the night watch?
He was dragged in front of the elders and interrogated for his negligence.
But he could not defend himself as he could no longer speak.
He could no longer cry because his tears ran dry.
The elders declare the little boy guilty, and the villagers vented their anger on him by stoning him to death.
A wolf.
He drew back as the wolf approached. The village elders must be informed! The little boy ran barefoot into the village and cried "WOLF! WOLF!"
But the villagers were not impressed. The elders have insisted that there were no wolves in the vicinity, only harmless wild dogs.
The sheep that have mysteriously died due to fierce attacks? Diseases.
The howling at night? Villagers' own hyperactive imagination.
There were no wolves. Period.
The little boy cried and cried a stream of tears "but there are wolves! I saw them just outside, circling in. Why won't you believe me?"
He cried until his voice was gone.
The villagers will never hear the baseless, pointless cry of stupid useless boy - they only listen to the elders.
But the wolves were not detered by the elders' denial. Two days later, a baby disappeared.
Then some children vanished.
A few adults never returned from the night.
The elders finally spoke. There was a WOLF! In fact there were packs of them outside for weeks, and yet nobody noticed their presence?
Furious, they asked - where is the little boy who held the night watch?
He was dragged in front of the elders and interrogated for his negligence.
But he could not defend himself as he could no longer speak.
He could no longer cry because his tears ran dry.
The elders declare the little boy guilty, and the villagers vented their anger on him by stoning him to death.
New Stone Soup Story
A long long time ago, there was a very smart man. But he was very poor and desperately hungry.
One day, he had a great idea.
He went to the King and told him that he had a magic stone that can produce the best tasting soup in the Kingdom. No other ingredients necessary, just add boiling water.
The King was obviously skeptical, but he agreed to try. All he stands to lose is just a pot of water, so why not?
When the water arrived, the poor man quickly plopped something on a string into the pot. He stirred and stirred. Then he had a taste.
"Hmm marvellous! But it would be even better if you added some salt."
The King's men added some salt.
"Superb taste! But it would be even better if you added some carrots..."
And so on. You know the story.
Eventually the soup was served to everyone, including the King. It was the best tasting soup in the Kingdom. The poor man drank his fill. It was his first full meal in months.
"What an amazing soup made from a stone! A magical stone!" the people chanted.
But when the poor man raised his string from the pot, there was no stone. It was only an empty loop of string.
You see the poor man wasn't stupid enough to plop a real, dirty stone into a pot that he would drink from. But he didn't pull out the string fast enough, and was discovered.
The poor man became worried as the people encircled him, staring at the empty loop. Suddenly someone chanted "the magic stone is invisible! This man is an angel!"
The excited crowd threw the King off his throne and made the poor man a new King. He has an invisible magic stone that can turn water into soup.
No one will be hungry for all eternity.
One day, he had a great idea.
He went to the King and told him that he had a magic stone that can produce the best tasting soup in the Kingdom. No other ingredients necessary, just add boiling water.
The King was obviously skeptical, but he agreed to try. All he stands to lose is just a pot of water, so why not?
When the water arrived, the poor man quickly plopped something on a string into the pot. He stirred and stirred. Then he had a taste.
"Hmm marvellous! But it would be even better if you added some salt."
The King's men added some salt.
"Superb taste! But it would be even better if you added some carrots..."
And so on. You know the story.
Eventually the soup was served to everyone, including the King. It was the best tasting soup in the Kingdom. The poor man drank his fill. It was his first full meal in months.
"What an amazing soup made from a stone! A magical stone!" the people chanted.
But when the poor man raised his string from the pot, there was no stone. It was only an empty loop of string.
You see the poor man wasn't stupid enough to plop a real, dirty stone into a pot that he would drink from. But he didn't pull out the string fast enough, and was discovered.
The poor man became worried as the people encircled him, staring at the empty loop. Suddenly someone chanted "the magic stone is invisible! This man is an angel!"
The excited crowd threw the King off his throne and made the poor man a new King. He has an invisible magic stone that can turn water into soup.
No one will be hungry for all eternity.
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