Here's Something You Don't Want To Read

Some topics just aren't fit for ordinary conversation. They must be whispered behind the woodshed, or perhaps certain people might allude to them in an indirect fashion, so as not to offend the delicate sensibilities of decent, regular people. If one does bring up such topics in ordinary conversation, one is often met with a look of loathing, as if the other people involved in the conversation were wishing that they could shrink down to the size of a small rodent and scurry away before hearing any more about it. At the very best the normal, ordinary person, by summoning an extraordinary amount of courage, might be able to change the subject to something more suitable. But still, the damage has been done. The mood has been ruined. Everyone simply wants to go home and recover from this horrific incident.

I think right now you're hoping I won't bring it up one of those things. I think right now you're praying to God (in whom you might not even believe) that I'll just skip past the subject to something less objectionable. I think inside your mind and soul, metaphorical tears are streaming down your face in agony and fear, just at the prospect that I might even mention a certain something.

But I'm going to. I'll do it. I can do it. I can do it with a word. Just. One. Word.

Physics.

There it is. It's right up above this line, sitting there staring at you with it's burning eyes. You feel nausea just by glancing at it out of your peripheral vision.

Go ahead. Run away and hide in the closet. Get in your car and drive away, as far as possible. Go to Mexico and change your name.

But, ha-ha!, I'm not even going to write about it. I'm not, because I know that if I did, so many people might be hurt. I don't want to hurt people. I'm a nice guy. I like to help people. I like to listen to their problems, their worries, their fears, their hopes, their dreams. I want to offer them assistance in whatever way I can.

So instead, I'll write about something else. I'll give you a little list of some things which wouldn't exist if it weren't for the thing represented by that little word above (don't look at it, don't, Dear God just look away). Here are just some of the things which wouldn't exist: radio, television, telephones, cars, refrigeration (that includes air conditioning), computers, airplanes, the Nintendo Wii, anything else which runs on electricity, and so on. I could make a longer list, but I won't. I think you get the idea.

I would be willing to bet that just about anybody reading this values at least one of those things in that list above. I think that many people value even more than one of those things.

Of course those things wouldn't exist without certain other things as well, e.g. engineering and chemistry. For some reason these subjects, at least when mentioned only in passing, are not offensive at all. In fact, many people use the word "chemistry" to mean sexual attraction. Most people would agree, at least in principle, that "chemistry" in the sense I just mentioned is a good thing. Just don't take it too far.

Now, imagine for a moment (and this is not a digression) a smiling old man. He has a large pile of frizzy hair on his head. He has a twinkle in his eye. Perhaps he's holding a piece of chalk in his hand, perhaps a violin. He's wearing a sweater or sweatshirt. His very name has now come to mean "very intelligent person." During a long period of his life, whenever this man went somewhere he was met with glee by very many people. Large numbers would flock to the place where his ship was going to dock, shouting and sometimes even screaming in anticipation. He was a sort of pre-Beatle, except he didn't sing songs about holding hands or love-me-do or being a walrus.

Yes, I'm talking about Albert Einstein. Curiously, he is still probably the most famous practitioner of that dreaded art represented by that horrid word (don't look at it, just don't!) above. If he were alive today, most people would welcome him into their homes. That is to say, most people would welcome him into their homes on the condition that he would have some coffee or perhaps tea, play his violin a little, and talk about what's on television, or who might win the championship in a particular sport, or even about certain subjects which are often a cause of strife, such as politics or religion. Just no talk about that other subject.

If he were to bring up that other subject, even most sweet old grandmothers would show him the door, and probably even give him a nice kick to the seat of his pants on his way out.

Hans Bricker