Indeed…

I have been pondering the safest answer to any possible remark, comment or question during the hyper-sensitive next six months in this Disunited Kingdom of ours. I have a few favourites. This one, from Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In:

very interesting.jpgVerrrry interesting…

The only trouble, what with the fake German accent and all, is that you might be seen as taking the Michael. And you’d have to remember not to add the … but also shtupid .

I love Spock’s Fascinating! This is a good one because if you can only say it with a straight face no one can tell whether you are fascinated by what the other person has just said, fascinated that they should have been so shtupid  as to come out with it in the first place or fascinated by their weird human physiognomy.

You can’t really say Exactly or Absolutely because both imply an enthusiastic agreement with the speaker which you may be far from feeling. You might try the psychotherapist’s interrogative Uh-huh? But how long are you going to be able to fend them off with that?

I personally favour Teal’cs grave Indeed. Preferably with the head inclining slightly to the left. I think I might get away with Indeed.

One of the things that attracted my younger self to Ex was that he was strong. He always said exactly what he thought. Unlike me, he did not scrabble around desperately trying to fit in: he did not temporise, he did not simper and he did not squirm. He treated all alike – from the little autistic boy on the railway to the multi-millionaire client in his mansion by the Thames – all were addressed in exactly the same vague, lofty yet booming tone of voice. When he started speaking everyone else in the room stopped – not always instantly, but they stopped. I often felt Moses would have spoken thus, on coming down the mountain with the Ten Commandments. And he seemed to get away with it.

I remember we once went out to Canada to visit my sister, and almost immediately, whilst still exhausted from the journey, were inveigled into Trivial Pursuit evenings with dips and carrot croutons, crudités or whatever those little veggie stick things are. (Playing by American rules, we were at a loss most of the time, since most of the questions were about baseball stars and presidents we had never heard of.) We were overwhelmed with good-neighbourliness and extreme hospitality. We were asked how many children we had – oh dear – none? – and what church we belonged to – church? – and a whole lot of other stuff we didn’t have satisfactory answers for. We were confused, jet-lagged and culture-shocked.

I squirmed and simpered whilst praying to the God I had never been interrogated about before that I might please become invisible or fall through a trap-door – or that at least somebody could sneak me an easy-peasy instruction leaflet for this unfamiliar lifestyle/version of the English language. But Ex continued to be resolutely and monumentally Ex. Asked what he thought of Canadian houses, which in that part of Ontario at least seemed to be huge, luxurious and timber-built, he replied that they reminded him of Glorified Garden Sheds.

Ohhhhh no, I was thinking whilst trying not to catch the eye of anybody in particular… but the conversation went on, just as before, without so much as a sharp intake of breath or an infinitesimally awkward pause.

Ex was just Ex. Whether he bewildered or impressed people into not being offended I don’t know. No doubt right now he is uttering the most appallingly nuts-and-bolts tactless statements about the European Union, people who voted this way or that, foreigners, politicians…

And no doubt everyone is hanging on his every word. Fascinated. Indeed.

 

Featured Image: Teal’c from Stargate

O brave new world, that has such people in’t!

Terraforming – I thought it had been invented by Captain Kirk. There was this film, wasn’t there? And someone transforming some planet into some kind of Garden of Eden on steroids – playing God, in other words – bound to end in tears/flows of molten rock/sky turning purple with yellow streaks/massive explosions.

Unbeknown to all, you see, Spock was on the planet. He was kind of a baby in a space-capsule, lurking the undergrowth and the new planet accidentally got synched to his accelerated growth/ageing process. I’m not sure why it was accelerated, or how he came to be a baby in a space-capsule in the first place, but anyway, it was. And he was.

But it appears the idea of terraforming was around long before Star Trek. According to Wikipedia:

The concept of terraforming developed from both science fiction and actual science. The term was coined by Jack Williamson in a science-fiction story (Collision Orbit) published during 1942 in Astounding Science Fiction,[1] but the concept may pre-date this work.

If I was allowed to rebuild this planet from scratch, to suit myself, what would it be like?

it fits

 It Fits!! : Matt Friedman

I would prefer there to be almost no people in my Brave New World, but not absolutely no people. You need to be able to speak and listen every so often: that’s what keeps your brain alive. I learned that lesson from Mum, though she didn’t realise she was teaching it: partially and then completely deaf, as she got older she wouldn’t wear her hearing aids, even to make things easier for visitors; she would hide behind the curtains if anyone came to the door and would physically drag us away if we bumped into anybody we knew, or she had once known, in the street.

It’s a person’s choice to hide themselves away, of course, but there can be a high price to pay; a kind of Robinson Crusoe Syndrome. The brain gets scrambled without at least the minimum of conversation. Even the least sociable of us are designed or have evolved, mentally, for the interchange of ideas – we are at our best when firing off other people. It’s a bit like the internet, only with squidgy stuff rather than circuits.

That said, I’d be happy to live like the Giant Panda, shambling around in the forest and only getting together with others once a year for mating purposes and a bit of a chat. Or in my case just a bit of a chat. The only downside with pandas is apparently they have to poop forty times a day. Something to do with their diet.

I’d like to live in a wooden hut, with a veranda, and an old wooden rocking chair with a bit of a creak to it. Then when it rained I could sit in my rocking chair and rock, and look down into the forest, observing the raindrops dropping off those great, glossy leaves and a cool breeze causing the lianas to sway a little…

My Brave New World would be fitted with some sort of controls, within limits. So, if it had been raining for three weeks non-stop in your solitary rainforest and you could really do with a couple of days of pleasant sunlight streaming down through the canopy – there should be some sort of control panel – no doubt hidden in the ruins of some ancient Inca civilisation – where you could twiddle a few knobs or press a few buttons to arrange that. But one wouldn’t be permitted perpetual sunshine since this might interfere with the natural environment for all the other animals you were lucky enough to share your rainforest with.

It might be nice if the storm-clouds made music as they passed overhead – or maybe the planets themselves as they circled – something like the music of the spheres. That too would be turn-off-and-on-able. Silence should always be an option. Or maybe just birdsong – some ambient twittering.

What would your Brave New World be like?

tortoise

natural