The Wit and Wisdom of Douglas Adams

“A learning experience is one of those things that says, ‘You know that thing you just did? Don’t do that.’”

“The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy also mentions alcohol. It says that the best drink in existence is the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster, the effect of which is like having your brains smashed out with a slice of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick.”

“Beethoven tells you what it’s like to be Beethoven and Mozart tells you what it’s like to be human. Bach tells you what it’s like to be the universe.”

“In those days spirits were brave, the stakes were high, men were real men, women were real women and small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri were real small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri.”

“His mouth started to speak, but his brain decided it hadn’t got anything to say yet and shut it again. His brain then started to contend with the problem of what his eyes told it they were looking at, but in doing so relinquished control of the mouth which promptly fell open again. Once more gathering up the jaw, his brain lost control of his left hand which then wandered around in an aimless fashion. For a second or so the brain tried to catch the left hand without letting go of the mouth and simultaneously tried to think about what was buried in the ice, which is probably why the legs went and Arthur dropped restfully to the ground.”

“A common mistake that people make when trying to design something completely foolproof is to underestimate the ingenuity of complete fools.”

“If you try and take a cat apart to see how it works, the first thing you have on your hands is a non-working cat.”

“There are some people you like immediately, some whom you think you might learn to like in the fullness of time, and some that you simply want to push away from you with a sharp stick.”

“We’ll be saying a big hello to all intelligent lifeforms everywhere and to everyone else out there, the secret is to bang the rocks together, guys.”

“Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so.”

“Programming today is a race between software engineers striving to build bigger and better idiot-proof programs, and the Universe trying to produce bigger and better idiots. So far, the Universe is winning.”

“’I’m a pretty dangerous dude when I’m cornered.’ ‘Yeah,’ said the voice from under the table, ‘you go to pieces so fast people get hit by the shrapnel.’”

The Matrix Retold by Mom

This is hysterical: an impromptu retelling of The Matrix (“Moshimo? Moshimo?”). Now, if only they’d make one for Inception and Blade Runner, we’d be set.

If He Flinches At That Point

“If I profess with loudest voice and clearest exposition every portion of the truth of God except that little point which the world and the Devil are at that moment attacking, I am not confessing Christ, however boldly I may be professing Christ. Where the battle rages, there the loyalty of the soldier is proved, and to be steady on all the battlefield besides, is mere flight and disgrace if he flinches at that point.” – Luther

Book Review: Lonesome Animals

In Lonesome Animals, ex-lawman Russell Strawl is drawn from retirement to track down a serial killer. Joined by his son Elijah – a drifter who fancies himself a Catholic prophet – Strawl follows the trail of bodies from place to place: always trying to get one step ahead, and always seeming to be one step behind. As the hunt lengthens, Strawl’s own dark and broken history is laid bare, leading in turn to shocking revelations about the killer’s identity.

Lonesome Animals is Bruce Holbert’s first novel – a bleak and bloody Western with noir sensibilities. It is also (for the most part) an exercise in style over substance, which is unfortunate, given Holbert’s tremendous pen-power. Let this be clear at the outset: I’m not questioning the man’s talent. But for a story with so much bark, the actual bite is more than a little underwhelming. Poetic prose and earnest dialogue abounds, as does grisly imagery; what’s missing is a point, a sense of purpose. But then maybe that is the point.

Holbert seems hell-bent on shattering popular romantic notions of the Wild West. And though I’m tempted to say there is no clear-cut good and evil in this story, that would be untrue. The evil is entirely clear-cut, thriving in these pages with a vibrant ugliness. The good, on the other hand, has already ridden off into the sunset. Search ye high and low, near and far – it is nowhere to be found.

And therein lies my biggest problem with Lonesome Animals. In his attempt to destroy what he perceives to be the Western ethos, Holbert unshackles the bull of nihilism and kicks it squarely in the gonads. You can imagine the chaos that ensues. The characters here wander through blood-soaked scene after blood-soaked scene, dealing out death and succumbing to it, with an unspoken question on their lips: “What’s the point?”

In the end, the answer seems to be that there is no point. Just a whole lot of violence and pain and anger, followed shortly by death. Deal with it.

Of course, I recognize that justice in a fallen world can be (and often is) a messy business. To pretend otherwise is to spit in the face of reality. But Holbert veers into a different kind of extreme: in his story, justice is an illusion. It’s hardly acknowledged, much less sought after or carried out. There is only darkness. Darkness and misery. The lonesome color on Holbert’s palette is pitch black, and his characters are saturated with it.

(I received this book for free in exchange for a review.
I was not required to write a positive review.)

In Which Scorsese and Solomon Mix

There’s a memorable scene in The Departed, in which soon-to-be police academy graduate Billy Costigan (Leonardo DiCaprio) is summoned to an interview with Oliver Queenan (Martin Sheen), head of the Special Investigations Unit. “I have a question for you,” says Queenan. “Do you want to be a cop, or do you want to appear to be a cop? It’s an honest question. A lot of guys just want to appear to be cops. Gun, badge, pretend they’re on TV.”

That scene flashed through my mind the other day as I was reflecting on Proverbs. Bizarre, I know – it’s not everyday Solomon and Martin Scorsese appear in the same thought-process – yet it struck me that, as believers, we should be asking ourselves a similar question (preferably with a Boston accent): “Do I want to be wise, or do I want to appear to be wise?” 

It doesn’t take a M.Div to realize those are two radically different goals. When we pursue wisdom, not for itself, but for the prestige it can bring us, we have effectively butchered the very definition of what it is to be wise. Wisdom, we should recall, begins with the fear of God – and God is not impressed with mere externals. He looks on the heart.

My buddies may regard me as the intellectual heir to St. Augustine himself, but if all I’m after is appearances, I’m asking God to work me over with a baseball bat. A little humble pie – right smack in the face. Looking the part of the wise man isn’t enough, and if I persist in thinking differently, it probably won’t be long before someone reaches up to tear the robe from off my back and reveal all that naked folly underneath. “Those threads you’re wearing? They aren’t yours, son. They don’t belong to you. You haven’t earned them.”

King Solomon:

Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom: and with all thy getting get understanding. Exalt her, and she shall promote thee: she shall bring thee to honour, when thou dost embrace her. She shall give to thine head an ornament of grace: a crown of glory shall she deliver to thee. (Prov. 4:7-9)