Dear Jimmyites:

Now that the holiday season has receded a safe distance into the past, I wanted to share with you the moment I considered to be the season’s high point, advertising-wise. It was this brief but poignant moment within a commercial for Staples:

weeping, weeping . . .

If you don’t recall, those words were spoken in a monotone of despair by a robotic sales person who (which?) was lamenting the loss of the printer on which it had a crush. The copywriter who chose, from among many possible ways for the robot to express sadness, weeping, weeping, is to be congratulated. It’s inspired, unexpected, yet precisely the choice you might expect a programmer to make in arming his offspring with language. The moment is perfect in its small way.

Ever since my freshman year in college, I’ve heard countless references to the question, “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” Hmmm. Mind-blowing. Until just recently, when daughter Holly returned from her first quarter in college. There she was, sitting in the family room, watching TV. I was in the other room. Then I heard the funny noise. I called from the other room, “Stop, hey, what’s that sound?” Holly’s matter of fact response: “One hand clapping.” Of course, I had to get up and see for myself. Sure enough. There she was, slapping her fingers against the palm of the hand to which those fingers are attached, creating a definite clapping sound. Not as sharp or as loud as the sound of two hands clapping. But I don’t know how else you would describe the sound she was making, other than that of one hand clapping. I was unable to create the same sound, but then Holly is exceptionally dextrous. I can only assume that ancient Asians possessed hand dexterity more like mine than my daughter’s. Otherwise, this question would have never come up.

How about you? Why not try it right now? See if you can solve this age-old riddle for yourself. [Note to self: Ask Holly about that tree falling in the forest thing.)

This being 2002 and all, isn’t it time for us to bid a frantic farewell to “multi-tasking”, both the term and the activity? It’s such an anal, type A, workaholic way to be, don’t you think? I believe I’ve grown beyond such tightly-wound behavior. How? By taking a more highly evolved path: Multi-vegging. I still spend most of my time doing more than one thing at a time, just like I used to. But with multi-vegging the nature of the activities is so much more balanced and life-affirming. When I’m on, I mean really on, I can languish in my Barcolounger with my iPod lodged in my ears, endlessly flipping channels and the pages of a magazine or newspaper (though not, I must point out, a book), all the while nibbling chips, surfing the net, and napping. If I understand the concept of nirvana correctly, and I’m pretty sure I do, (I was a philosophy major, remember), this is it.

Stoically,

 

P.S. I feel a little dirty bringing this up, but now and then I think it’s appropriate to remind you that I am, after all, a freelance copywriter and, though you receive this invaluable meletter at no charge, and certainly with no obligation, no strings attached, no hidden agenda, no reciprocity agreement, no salesman will call, there is an unwritten, understood, clear and binding duty on your part to send scads of lucrative projects my way, so as to provide the considerable monies necessary to cover the labor, materials, shipping and handling costs associated with this quarterly, high quality, exclusive periodical.

 

“Pissing in your pants will only keep you warm for so long.” - Old Danish Saying

“People ought to fight to keep their law as to defend the city’s wall.” - Heraclitus

Humans Are Just Fancy Monkeys Dept: Gal A is caught throwing five kittens, one at a time, out of her moving car, to their deaths, receives a year of probation; Guy B throws a dog onto the freeway, killing it, and gets four year in jail; Guy C, in one of those Eastern European countries of endless conflict, oversees the killing of 8,000 people and gets 46 years in jail. Five kittens, one year probation, one dog, four years. 8,000 humans, 46 years. This justice thing is a tricky business, yes?

“A man must swallow a toad every morning if he wishes to be sure of finding nothing still more disgusting before the day is over.” - Chamfor

t“The world gets better every day -- then worse again in the evening.” - Kin Hubbard

“The only joy in the world is to begin.” - Cesare Pavese
‘We refuse praise from a desire to be praised twice.” - Francois Duc La Rochefoucauld