Ruminations from Douglas Adams

Quotes of the Day from Mostly Harmless by Douglas Adams:

"I know that astrology isn't a science,' said Gail. "Of course it isn't. It's just an arbitrary set of rules like chess or tennis or, what's that strange thing you British play?'

"Er, cricket? Self-loathing?"

"Parliamentary democracy. The rules just kind of got there. They don't make any kind of sense except in terms of themselves. But when you start to exercise those rules, all sorts of processes start to happen and you start to find out all sorts of stuff about people. In astrology the rules happen to be about stars and planets, but they could be about ducks and drakes for all the difference it would make. It's just a way of thinking about a problem which lets the shape of that problem begin to emerge. The more rules, the tinier the rules, the more arbitrary they are, the better. It's like throwing a handful of fine graphite dust on a piece of paper to see where the hidden indentations are. It lets you see the words that were written on the piece of paper above it that's now been taken away and hidden. The graphite's not important. It's just the means of revealing their indentations. So you see, astrology's nothing to do with astronomy. It's just to do with people thinking about people.

For some reason, the reference to parliamentary democracy always reminds me of the concept of an emergent system. You take rules -- tiny, irrelevant, nitpicky rules -- and apply them rigorously regardless of whether they work or not -- except sometimes when you forget. You make a bureaucracy so Byzantine that no one will ever understand it. Then you just wait, and slowly people rise to take up the tasks required. Power relationships become balanced, and issues are confronted. It is as if the requirement for a maze of rules is only to make the system competitive for the individuals in it, and the function of the system takes a character irrelevant to the rules that govern it. A very interesting way to think about complex systems...

Another interesting one about flying from Life, the Universe and Everything:

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has this to say on the subject of flying.

There is an art, it says, or rather, a knack to flying. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss. Pick a nice day, it suggests, and try it. The first part is easy. All it requires is simply the ablility to throw yourself forward with all your weight, and the willingness not to mind that it's going to hurt. That is, it's going to hurt if you fail to miss the ground. Most people fail to miss ground, and if they are really trying properly, the likelihood is that they will fail to miss it very hard.

Clearly, it is this second part, the missing, which presents the difficulties.

One problem is that you have to miss the ground accidently. It's no good deliberately intending to miss the ground becuase you won't. You have to have your attention suddenly distracted by something else when your halfway there, so that you are no longer thinking about falling, or about the ground, or about how much it's going to hurt if you fail to miss it.

It is notoriously difficult to prize your attention away from these three things during the split second you have at your disposal. Hence most people's failure, and their eventual disillusionment with this exhilarating and spectacular sport.

If, however, you are lucky enough to have your attention momentarily distracted at the crucial moment by, say, a gorgeous pair of legs (tentacles, psuedopodia, according to phyllum and/or personal inclination) or a bomb going off in your vicinity, or by suddenly spotting an extremely rare species of beetle crawling along a nearby twig, then in your astonishment you will miss the ground completely and remain bobbing just a few inches above it in what might seem to be a slightly foolish manner.

This a moment for superb and delicate concentration. Bob and float, float and bob. Ignore all considerations of your own weight and simply let yourself waft higher. Do not listen to what anybody says to you at this point because they are unlikely to say anything helpful. They are most likely to say something along the lines of "Good God, you can't possibly be flying!" It is vitally important not to believe them or they will suddenly be right. Waft higher and higher. Try a few swoops, gentle ones at first, then drift above the treetops breathing regularly.

DO NOT WAVE AT ANYBODY.

When you have done this a few times you will find the moment of distraction rapidly becomes easier and easier to achieve. You will also learn all sorts of things about how to land properly, which is something you almost certainly screw up, and screw up badly, on your first attempt.

There are private clubs you can join which help you achieve the all-important moment of distraction. They hire people with surprising bodies or opinions to leap out from behind bushes and exhibit and/or explain them at the critical moments. Few genuine hitchhikers will be able to afford to join these clubs, but some may be able to get temporary employment at them.

For some reason, this quote always reminds me of dating. Dating is something you can only really do right if you don't think about it. The moment you think "My God, I think I really like this person!" that's it...you are so done. Instead you have to adopt an air of amused unawareness and just let it happen. Not that I am any good at this either. Few are. Still, I think the theory is sound.