Having Google on your phone is like having a drunk know-it-all in your pocket. There’s no time for mystery or wonder. You’re just like, “how do they make glass?” “Blarghelarglebahhrahhh!!!” And you know. But the time between not knowing and knowing is so brief that knowing feels exactly like not knowing, so life is meaningless.
Equally, though more practially, thought-provoking are the results of Louis C.K.‘s experiment in bypassing the corporate middle-man. Another foray into media self-publishing proves again that the consumer, given a chance, is honest and will pay for a product. The media conglomerates would have artists believe that we are all out to steal their art and their earnings, but more and more of them are understanding that the real thieves are the entertainment houses themselves. Occupy entertainment?
This week, Peter Segal set up perfect example of the human desire to fill in holes. In this case, however, the sleuthing drive was put to creative use.
On the 13th of December — the night of the Chicago Community Trust’s 96th anniversary event — Mr. Segal was serendipitously in a position to take a picture of Yo-Yo Ma on a bathroom floor with a wombat. Because he is a kind, generous and somewhat mischievous soul, he shared his captioned photo with thousands of Twitter followers.
I envy this creative bent. I am able to muster a similar sense of playful guessing for Yo-Yo-Wombat-type holes in my understanding: Sure, fill those with nonsense! It’s fun! But when the information gaps are personal, or have a bearing on my life or the lives of family members and friends, my instant reaction is to fill them with worst possible scenarios. Why shouldn’t/can’t I instead fill them with marsupial daemons and beautiful cello languages that only wombats understand? Is it the fear that, should I be optimistic, the real facts will be a let-down? Well, perhaps they might be if I were too pollyanna in creating my own take… It is never wise to fill a hole with rainbow glitter and unicorn rides. Instead, a surrealist approach might be better suited to my depressive sensibilities: Fill in the frightening unknown with rainbow chicken-snails and unicorn farts, and the idea will be amusing until the facts arrive, and will then be easily traded for reality, since they were hardly possible to begin with… except in Laurie Pink’s drawniverse.
Resolution: Next time the boss has his door closed, I am going to assume he is practicing parkour with the rest of the management team. Yes. Much better. Now, does anyone want to join me in creating a version of Clue where “It was Yo-Yo Ma in the Lavatory with the Wombat” could be a possible outcome?