Romantic: Remember the drive last Sunday…
Skin: Oh you telling me:
When the sun hits the skin
Like a big pizza pie
Ah! That’s zamunda…
Gut: Don’t even remind me. The drives are just killing me. Who gave this monkey brain a license. Can’t anybody do something about the eye-hand-leg coordination. The automatic was bad enough, the stick shift is just killing me.
Oh quit complaining. Here I am trying to remember a beautiful scene and you are ruining it. This place, it had houses with a small board next to mail box and scribbled on it with paint: Just a cottage, and oh, then there was this farm. Listen to this: Three reasons farm. There were these kids on the grass by the side of the road. One of the kids, he was just playing by himself on some wooden logs, short ones. The sun was streaming through the clouds on them. The other kid was just sleeping, enjoying it. It was just so… idyllic
Factual: There was no sun streaming through the clouds near the kids. It was there in other places and times, presumably beautiful, but not there.
Why do you always have to do that to me. You and your damn facts. Can’t you let me enjoy anything.
But it’s about facts and truth…
In another corner
Is it 5… AM?
Ya, someone changed the sleep cycle. Remember we slept early yesterday. I have been up since 4.30.
But still 4.30!! Seems like the typist is also up.
Ya, the whole new blogging enthusiasm.
Who is this?
Oh, he is a transitory.
Huh. When did you hop on?
Huh?
He came aboard when we were reading up on Macbeth. Macbeth himself…
Oh Royalty. Nice to make your acquaintance sir. So were it done and when 'tis done, then 'twere well?
Nice to meet you too. But I don’t quite follow you?
Shouldn’t he be speaking in Shakespearean English or something.
Well the language rules for transits are complicated, depending on how and when he hopped etc. Also, he is the Scottish original, so won’t understand any Shakespearean references.
Ah the Original himself eh? What’s all that ruckus on the other side?
Oh the Irrelevants are at it again. You know, nature of truth blah blah blah.
Who are the irrelevants?
Well sir, we got those two, the romantic and the factual, then there are technical, scientific, the analytic, logician, the philosopher, the psychologist, poet, writer and bunch of others. Frankly, irrelevant.
Who else is there?
Well then you got us, the Randoms. Too many to list and are interchangeable. There are a few other, but mostly these two kinds.
But see I think the factual is fighting a losing battle. Black and white, it’s just one bit. Grey just takes a lot of memory. In the long run, you will just end up with strongly bad or strongly good truth. You can’t remember all the subtleties. So we mix all the good into one big good…
Who are they?
They are some amalgamation of the analytic-logician-scientific, I can never tell them apart.
Who are you?
We are some amalgamation of analytic-logician-scientific, we can never tell us apart.
Why don’t we spare His Highness these irrelevants and get him some useful stuff on truth and things.
Macbeth, meet George Costanza, James Hacker, Sir Humphrey Appleby. They belong to the luminaries, those that have been invited to hop on permanently. This is Macbeth the original.
Sir Humphery: What do you mean the original?
See Sir Humphery is from Cambridge or Oxford. Very Loyal to Shakespeare. Anyway, we were hoping that you can enlighten His Highness on the nature of truth and so forth.
George: Jerry if you believe in it, it’s not a lie.
Hacker: Is it the truth
Sir Humphery: Yes.
Hacker: Is it nothing but the truth?
Sir Humphery: Yes, of course.
Hacker: Is it the complete truth?
Of course not.
There you go. Now you know all there is about truth. Let’s get some breakfast.
