The other night, while The Chick That Hangs Out At My Apartment Sometimes and I were sitting around, having a few beers, we decided to do something crazy. I got out a book that had just arrived in the mail. Within the pages sat a smorgasbord of moves and new ways of thinking that could be a lot of fun for a couple kids with a buzz on.
The book I’m referring to is My 60 Memorable Games, by Bobby Fischer.
It contains move by move notations of 60 matches handpicked by Fischer himself. Imagine being in the same room as Michelangelo wrote homoerotic poetry to Tommaso dei Cavalieri, or shaped a block of marble into the form of a nude man. Only on the rarest of occasions are we allowed to witness genius in action.
We chose a 1962 showdown between Fischer and Argentinian Julio Bolbochan. The match, titled in the book as ‘A Brilliant Cadenza,’ was immediately mistaken by me for ‘A Brilliant Credenza.’ My confusion was soon cleared up, as it was brought to my attention that a glorified cupboard had nothing to do with a chess game.
The whole point is this: when I write my autobiography, documenting the time I got my master’s degr—landed my dream jo—accomplished something, I am stealing A Brilliant Cadenza for the title of the book. Or I’ll use Brilliant Credenza, just to screw with people.
I am now deep into Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, book three of seven in the wildly popular series. I’ve stayed sheltered this long, having avoided the bombardment of hype surrounding the final book nearly seven years ago, as well as the film adaptations. I think I’ve got some of it figured out, though. Here are a few of my predictions for how the story arc will play out.
—Harry and Ron become so fed up with Professor Snape that they get him arrested for being a pedophile. How do they do that? I thought I’d never ask. In a genius ironic twist, the two boys use the knowledge they gain from the Potions class that Snape teaches, to concoct a Love Potion. They sneak it into Snape’s lunch, causing him to become hopelessly in love with those surrounding him, i.e., a bunch of young witches and wizards. Now, the magical lifestyle differs from that of Muggles in many ways, but I assume that pedophilia is frowned upon even in wizardry.
—Or maybe pedophilia is accepted in the wizarding world, which is why everyone hates Voldemort and his womanizing.
—Oh yeah, Harry and Ron get the Love Potion on themselves and start dating.
—A larger portion of the next book will be devoted to the Dursleys, where we find that their treatment of Harry is justified. Think about it: I’m not even finished with the third book, and Harry has already broken enough rules to justify expulsion from Hogwarts several times over, including illegal use of magic in the Dursley home. Rules are rules, Harry. Deal with them like the rest of us.
—Hermione is going to kill herself after graduation, when she comes to the realization that a degree in witchcraft is worthless. Her resume, citing arithmancy and transfiguration as her ‘special skills,’ will be used on job search websites as template of how not to get hired.
—I know Dumbledore dies, but not how. My guess is a coprophilia exploration gone wrong.
I can’t wait to find out how close I am on all these.
Efficiency. That’s what life is all about. Eliminate unnecessary movements in order to dedicate more time to what really matters. There’s a reason you don’t put a couch in front of the door, because it would take longer to climb over it.
Recently, I efficiency-ized my internal world. My body, that is. And it worked. I don’t know how, but I did it. Had I been more scientific-minded at the outset, I would have recorded everything—diet, exercise, sleep schedule. But none of that matters, because my body is now a harmonious, self-sustaining institution.
Need proof? I haven’t produced bodily waste in over five days. Imagine that. Everything I’ve consumed over nearly a week has been 100% used up. My digestive system is equivalent to a Native American hunter after a buffalo kill. Nothing gets thrown out.
I’ve become a walking lithium-ion battery.
Think about how much time you spend expunging waste from your body. I don’t have that problem anymore. What a reverberating relief! I’m selling my toilet, and never looking back.
Have fun pooping, idiots!