So this is Christmas.

O holy night, the stars are brightly shining
It is the night of our dear Savior's birth

Long lay the world in sin and error, pining
Till He appeared, and the soul felt its worth

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!...

My favorite Christmas song. It wasn't until just a few years ago that I for once really listened to the words, and was surprised at how there is such meaning in them, and how profound it is.

*****

I may have done this last year, but here are the lyrics to one of the loveliest and saddest songs ever, found in of all things Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol. As a musical cartoon, Belle sings this to Ebenezer.

Winter was warm
Summer soft that year
The winter was warm

Without a sign of frost
Like winter lost
Its way that year

It seems as I recall
No blossoms fell that fall
May didn't leave at all

Or did love paint an illusion?

Now trees with a sigh
Stand and shiver
While their dreams fall and die

And all my dreams are there
Wrapped up somewhere
In summer leaves

Oh, what I'd give to be
To be in love again

This year the winter is cold
Will it ever be warm
As it was then?

Top 10 movies of the decade.

1. Children of Men, 2006

(Clive Owen, Julianne Moore, directed by Alfonso Cuaron)

The number one movie of the decade. It's so good I haven't been able to watch it a second time. Because I'm scared.

The movie is set in the year 2027. All of humanity has been infertile for nearly two decades, and we are introduced to a world (immediate setting: the UK) overrun with despair, anger, and violence. Immigration is a gigantic issue, as floods of people try to find sanctuary in Britain but are summarily rounded up and kept in cages and suffer desperate situations. Theo Faron (Owen) is forced into helping the Fishes, an underground group that is transporting, of all things, a young, pregnant African woman.

It is an unbelievably bleak two-plus hours, enhanced by extended single-shot scenes that dramatically heighten their suspense. What is most frightening, and life-changing, about Children of Men is that it looks and feels almost just like present day. There are a few futuristic touches--advanced video games, ugly postmodern rock, holographic screens on the job--but largely the movie arrests you and forces you to understand that many of the terrible things in the movie are happening right now, today. The broken lives of immigrants can be no different than those suffering in the Sudan or Rwanda; the dirty, bullet-ridden showdown only mirrors war-torn areas around the world.

A must-see for anyone who cares to truly open their eyes to the reality of a world outside their own. Even if you can barely stand to watch it again.

2. Finding Nemo, 2003

(Albert Brooks, Ellen DeGeneres, directed by Andrew Stanton and Lee Unkrich)

Of all the Disney and Pixar animated movies to come out this decade, this one tops them all, which is saying a lot. Where do I begin, truly? With Dory's (DeGeneres) short-term memory loss, an absolutely brilliant stroke of genius? With the perfect-from-beginning-to-end sea turtle scene (and that adorable little Squirt!)? With the insane notion of fish-tank dwellers and pelicans knowing dental terminology forward and backward? Or with the stunning scene inside of the whale, when Marlin (Brooks) asks Dory how she knows they'll be okay, and she answers simply, "I don't!"

For me, a comedy isn't truly a comedy unless I laugh the entire way through (Friday, Ace Ventura, Clue, The Grinch), and Finding Nemo is killer in that regard. And while I'm laughing, I get to bask in the beautiful animation, an entire cast of ocean-dwelling creatures, and a perfectly-rendered plot that reminds me every single time that even those things which seem terrible may just be part of a path that leads me right to where I want to go.

3. Gladiator, 2000

(Russell Crowe, Joaquin Phoenix, directed by Ridley Scott)

The decade began with a triumph. Although Russell Crowe had been previously nominated for an Oscar, he did not become a household name until donning the toga and sandals of Maximus, the general-turned-slave-turned-gladiator. And don't forget would-be Caesar. This movie is an epic on all scales, from the locations to the costumes to the music to the inspired acting that catapulted Phoenix into the spotlight and won Crowe his first acting Oscar. "Big" movies are always a gamble in that if one portion of the filmmaking formula goes awry, it far diminishes the overall product. Gladiator suffers no such ill-effects. And in case you forgot, it did win a little something called Best Picture.

4. The New World, 2003

(Colin Ferrell, Q'orianka Kilcher, directed by Terrence Malick)

The beauty of this movie is how quiet it is, and how utterly organic. When Captain Newport (Christopher Plummer) and his men land on native American soil in 1620, it is a paradise of tall grasses, fresh waters, endless skies, and a new people. And you not only see the grass—you hear the blades rubbing against each other in the wind. You not only see the water—you hear it lapping against the shore, splashing gently against rocks, again and again, until your senses are overwhelmed and the images and sounds become a part of you. This was a most brilliant feat for a moviemaker (Terrence Malick) attempting to bring the New World to the modern world. The romance between John Smith (Colin Ferrell) and Pocahontas (Q’orianka Kilcher), whose name is never mentioned, is breathtaking simply for the fact that, as the actress was underage, Ferrell could not kiss her or touch her in any suggestive way. And so their love is suggested, and played out in beautiful, innocent images that are far more powerful than anything overt.

The attention to detail in every aspect of the movie is stunning, from the gray, cold desperation of the English fort to the communal native village with their corn stalks, body paint, and prayerful dancing. It is a very long movie, and there is minimal dialogue, and if you can stand that, you will be part of an experience, and you will understand that not everything a society leaves behind should have been left behind.

5. The Prestige, 2006

(Hugh Jackman, Christian Bale, directed by Christopher Nolan)

Forget that Jackman and Bale are superstars. Forget that Chris Nolan is the mastermind behind the Batman franchise reboot. The Prestige is a head-trip of a movie in its own right, bolstered by jumps through time and perspective that keep you engaged and guessing till the end, when a stunning twist of sizeable proportions is revealed.

Robert Angier (Jackman) and Alfred Borden (Bale) are competitive magicians in turn-of-the-century London, their rivalry bolstered by the accidental death of Angier's wife during a trick. As they constantly try to outdo each other, Angier enlists the help of none other than Nikola Tesla (played brilliantly by David Bowie) to stage the "Transported Man" trick that is garnering Borden attention. This is one movie where you simply cannot have the end spoiled for you, and once you do understand what has happened--you have to watch the movie all over again. That is a gift to a movie fan.

6. Dreamgirls, 2006

(Jennifer Hudson, Beyonce Knowles, Jamie Foxx, directed by Bill Condon)

Believe it or not, there's more to this movie musical than just Jennifer Hudson's performance. Although she is spectacular and the best singer to come from American Idol. The film starts right away with a performance by the Dreamettes at an amateur talent competition in Detroit, and the momentum literally never lets up. They become backup singers for James "Thunder" Early (Eddie Murphy) and with the help of manager Curtis Taylor, Jr. (Foxx) rise up to become The Dreams, and megastars in their own right. The lead singer Effie (Hudson) is replaced, however, by Deena (Knowles) in order to achieve this, and when Deena also steals Curtis away romantically, Effie is fired. And that's just the first act.

The musical is an excellent history of African-American music in the sixties and seventies, moving from soul to the famed Motown Sound to the infamous disco. The songs themselves are ridiculously catchy and always energetically performed, and on top of that, Eddie Murphy gives the dramatic performance of his career. (He. was. ROBBED. at the Oscars) If you haven't seen Dreamgirls and need a good movie to watch while you gorge yourself on Christmas cookies, then you know what you need to do.

7. Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, 2003

(Elijah Wood, Viggo Mortensen, Ian McKellen, directed by Peter Jackson)

My mom and I went to see all three movies at the theater, but this is the only one for which I bought the DVD. The first two really only set the stage, anyway. I haven't read any of Tolkien's books and didn't know anything about The Lord of the Rings prior to watching the movies. And still, Return of the King affected me in much the same way as I'm sure it did the hardcore devoted.

What I love most about it is Frodo (Wood) and Sam's (Sean Astin) seemingly eternal struggle to get rid of the ring, and how all that is important in life became clear as they struggled up the side of Mount Doom. Struggle--human or hobbit--is universal, and these scenes served as a reminder (just as with Marlin and Dory in the mouth of the whale) that no matter how difficult the cirumstances, no matter how unsure the outcome, you still must try. Pair that bit of timeless wisdom with the obvious, triumphant effort of the filmmakers, the gorgeous landscapes, the epic music, and the perfect ending, and you've got yourself what many say is the best film of the decade.

8. How the Grinch Stole Christmas, 2000

(Jim Carrey, Taylor Momsen, directed by Ron Howard)

Jim Carrey is a national treasure. I'll just get that out of the way right now. He made The Grinch as fabulous as it is. It is a crime to overlook his performance, which might as well be the dictionary definition of "comic gold," because the movie is kid-friendly or because there's such a heavy depiction of commercialism. (Which, I suspect, was kind of the point! The Who's had forgotten the real meaning of Christmas in favor of toys, toys, toys) Besides, the famous conversion scene was wonderfully done and should remind anyone that Carrey is perfectly capable of doing more than just telling a joke. (See: The Truman Show)

9 The Departed, 2006

(Leonardo DiCaprio, Matt Damon, directed by Martin Scorcese)

I don't watch many movies like this; in fact, I haven't seen one single Godfather. But anytime you have not one but two characters pretending to be someone they're not, and getting the plot jumbled up into all sorts of twists and turns, you just may have the formula for something riveting. Set in Boston, pretty much everyone is Irish, and the leader of the Irish Mafia, Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson), has Colin Sullivan (Damon) infiltrate the state police; he actually becomes a police officer. Also, the state police choose Billy Costigan (DiCaprio) to go undercover and infiltrate the Irish Mafia.

It's a tough movie, violent, lots of cursing. And at the same time it's genius. I really can't say a whole lot else about the plot without giving it away, so I'll just say that the whole thing is suspenseful and captivating right up to the very last second, literally; and the cast is phenomenal: DiCaprio, Damon, Nicholson, Martin Sheen, Alec Baldwin, Mark Whalberg. This movie deserved to win Best Picture that year, and it did.

10. The Mothman Prophecies, 2002

(Richard Gere, Debra Messing, Laura Linney, directed by Mark Pellington)

Supernatural fiction done very, very right. (It is based on a true story, though) The somber tone and cold winter days are the perfect backdrop for John Klein (Gere) to investigate sightings of the so-called Mothman in Point Pleasant, West Virginia, and figure out why he was mysteriously drawn to such a place after the death of his wife (Messing). This is the best X-Files movie that was never made, and in an era of increasingly un-scary movies (like The Haunting) due to seeing everything, this is perfectly calibrated; in fact, we never even see the actual Mothman. We simply feel its effect, time and again, pressing close to us, speaking of things it shouldn't know into our ear.

Runners-up: War of the Worlds (2005), Identity (2003), Walk the Line (2005), The Devil Wears Prada (2006)

Or, a box of chocolates.

Life is like a game of solitaire.

Skill will only get you so far. In the end, it's about the hand you're dealt. If it's a crappy hand, you'll lose. If it's not so crappy, you have a chance at winning. It's not your fault what hand you're dealt; it's purely chance. And you do with it what you can.

You can play as many hands of solitaire as you like, of course, quitting those crappy ones as soon as you run out of options.

In life, however, there are some pretty serious consequences if you choose to end the game.

So you sit, out of options, with your crappy hand, until, I guess, the battery runs out.

A contemporary application of the categorical imperative.

It's times like these that I wish I had just a few more followers, so maybe something I said could reach a large portion of eyes.

About three years ago when I first joined Blogger, my blog was just a place to get really, really pissed off and say how I really felt about things. I have curbed that instinct here.

Anyway, one day I wrote a post about Immanuel Kant's idea of the categorical imperative. There had been a recent news story about some lame teen outfitter selling shirts that said very inappropriate things on them, mostly things degrading women/girls, and as I read the comments on the story I was saddened and pissed off that so many people were saying, "If you don't like it, don't buy the shirts."

So I asked my readership of zero, what if that was how everyone handled things they found inappropriate/offensive/wrong/immoral?

- don't like war? Don't fight in one.
- don't like rape? Don't go out at night.
- don't like child abuse? Don't be friends with the parent(s).
- don't like the death sentence? Turn off the news.
- don't like the lyrics to songs these days? Turn off the radio.
- don't like corruption in business? Don't buy anything.

The categorical imperative is "an absolute requirement that asserts itself in all circumstances." So if you apply a thought or statement to multiple situations and it still seems "right" (makes sense), then there's a greater likelihood that it is.

Clearly, applying it in this instance reveals that if we shouldn't ignore war, rape, child abuse, and so many other things that are wrong in this world, then we shouldn't ignore anything that's wrong. Conversely if we should ignore apparel that urges young men to treat their counterparts as objects, then we should ignore everything negative.

This does not mean that every single individual has to take up a flag for something. But when someone does, it should be recognized as illogical when another person tells them not to worry about it.

Because again, logically, ignoring a problem does not make it go away. It does not suddenly, magically make the problem a good thing. It does not make someone forget that there's a problem.

The only people who say "don't like it? Ignore it" are people who are not only okay with the problem, but are allowing for that problem to be universally accepted, for it to become mainstream, and hoping for all opposition to the problem to vanish and quite passively so. People like this are also parrots, who say things they hear without ever thinking about what those things actually mean. Enter the prevelance of the ridiculous slogan I've been picking apart.

I mean, really? Do none of these people ever stop to consider if someone said the same thing to them about something of which they disapproved? No, because they assume the world is exactly like them, that their viewpoint is the only one that matters, and so they have little experience seeing more than one side to an issue, let alone the weighty task of walking in someone else's shoes.

If you couldn't tell, I find a slogan like this to be utterly repulsive because of how totally and inherently illogical it is. And the fact that it is so obviously illogical, and so obviously harmful when put in practice, makes it worse.

Now, I know that at some point someone could say, "There's a big difference between war or rape, and silly shirts with questionable sayings on them."

And I'd say that's true. There is a difference. However, consider the criminal justice system. There are crimes that in some states draw a death penalty; some crimes that garner a life sentence; some that result in twenty years, some that result in paying a hefty fine, some that result in probation, some in just a five-dollar ticket.

But you wouldn't say, "There's a big difference between raping and murdering eighteen women, and robbing a corner drugstore of fifty dollars. Therefore, the latter is not a crime."

So you would not say to ignore the impact of teens walking around with sexist comments on their shirts just because it's not war or child pornography. The underlying principle remains the same.

However, I'm also not saying that any one person has to be affected by any of these things. But what's crucial to remember is that a person's indifference to something does not affect its actual right or wrong quality. Now, if you want to pull out the old yarn of "don't tell me what to believe," that's fine, but just realize that it takes a badass to stand in public and say that murder is moral, or rape is moral. No matter how advanced your liberal ideology, there are still some things that you'd have to be crazy to think are okay.

In the end, indifference to something looks almost just like acceptance of it. So I'm tired of people playing the indifference card. And in the end, telling someone else to be indifferent to a problem which they've already decided bothers them, is mind-bogglingly arrogant.

As someone once said, it's a free country. People can, for the most part, do and think what they want. I agree with this.

I also, however, understand the nature of cause and effect, and the nature of consequence. If we continue to breed a nation, or a world, of indifferent people, then it will be those few left who remained passionate who have all the power.

And it starts by ignoring something as "silly" as sexist T-shirts.

From a Children's Tale.

When I was little, there was a series on Showtime called "Faerie Tale Theater," created and hosted by the actress Shelly Duvall. Some of the best, most popular actors and directors working at that time (the 80s) helped create hour-long stories that we're all familiar with, sometimes with a little twist, a lot of times with a bit of innuendo that went right over my head.

My favorite is the tale of Thumbelina, with Carrie Fisher and Burgess Meredith. The story itself is very wistful and sad, and it was not portrayed comically as some of the other fairy tales were. As you may know, the little girl is born of a magic flower, and is soon taken from her mother by a toad who wants to marry Thumbelina to her ugly toad son. Thumbelina escapes them only to face a harsh winter alone; she is rescued by a field mouse who takes her in and becomes a sort of father figure. The mouse's friend, Mr. Mole, soon asks for Thumbelina's hand in marriage, and the field mouse grants it. Thumbelina escapes, once again, just before her wedding with the help of a friendly swallow who flies her away to a fairy kingdom. And so on and so forth.

Anyway, the short film itself potrays adult concepts simply enough that I understood the poignancy as a child, but deeply enough that it resonates even more all these years later. And one of the wonderful things about Thumbelina is the music.

In college, one of my required courses was Orchestration. I had a great teacher, Dr. Freund, a young guy who'd been to the major music schools and has his own modern music group (Alarm Will Sound) that performs in cool places like New York. Anyway, after arranging pieces for string quartet, woodwind quintet, and brass quintet, we had to arrange for orchestra. I chose the themes from the music of Thumbelina.

It can be, obviously, very difficult to accurately portray the sound of a piece; it's much easier to hear it. And since I can't give some easy link to it, I will just describe what I arranged. It was titled, appropriately, "From a Children's Tale."

It began with pizzicato (or plucking) in the strings, with staggered rhythms between each section. Five measures in a flute solo introduced the first of the two main themes, with the oboe and clarinet easing in on harmony lines. The entire woodwind section then finished the simple melody, and as we progressed toward the "chorus," the strings abandoned their pizz and played a scalar run toward the fully orchestrated chorus (for lack of using a more complicated term). As is often the case, the flutes/clarinets and violins carried the melody, while the violas, cellos, and lower woodwinds offered harmonies and countermelodies.

Then began the second main theme, an absolutely gorgeous section of long tones gently but inevitably leading higher and higher to the upper register of the violins and flutes. Then, because the poor brass had had little to do (and I had to use them to get a good grade), I turned the theme over to them, and the melodies, countermelodies, and harmonies mirrored that which had been heard previously in the woodwinds and strings.

In hindsight, if I were to reconstruct this arrangement, I would rewrite the brass's interpretation of the second theme. Although, if I must say, I did love having the horns take the melody and just soar, the way all good French horn players are wont to do.

Then there was a tiny bit of a bridge, a transition to get us back to the delicacy of the beginning. The strings took us downward, to the middle and lower registers, and employed simple long tones. Then the woodwinds returned with the first main theme. This time, however, I gave the solo to the clarinet, and one by one the other instruments dropped out until the clarinet was alone, finishing on a beautiful rubato passage.

Though the bulk of my conducting career was spent in front of bands, it was such a thrill and such a wonderful opportunity to be able to conduct our university's philharmonic (the top orchestra), which graciously agreed to play my class's orchestral arrangements. As the composers we were expected to conduct our pieces, and I was quite up to the task. I even got a bit of conducting instruction from the philharmonic conductor himself, the esteemed Edward Dolbashian (a native New Yorker - love that place). We had a particularly excellent string bass player from Brazil, and I loved watching her take total control of the crucial bass line. Another Brazilian student and excellent musician named Marcos was the clarinet player who interpreted the end of my piece so perfectly. I felt so, so honored in that moment.

And just being there, hearing achingly beautiful music come forth at the behest of my humble baton - I would hope that it's an experience every single person could appreciate, given the opportunity. A melody I'd loved all my life, vibrating in the air around me. Brought to life, even if only briefly. This is a music experience that not only will I never forget, but that I will treasure as long as I have my wits about me.

Addendum: I'm forgetting myself. The first theme has words, beautiful, beautiful words that never age, that the Thumbelina character sings:

One day in spring she heard him sing
A song to her delight
And back again came then her friend
To warm her summer nights

Don't cry for me while I be gone
Though it an eternity seems
Though we are apart, I'll follow my heart
And come to you in your dreams

When the heartache ends.

Last night I dreamt
my mother was a blade of grass
swaying in the shade of a willow tree

I would sit beside her and talk
of things she would want to know
She would bend her head and
graze my hand

Winter came and she grew brittle

An icy wind broke her and
she went away forever

When I returned in spring
and found that she was gone
I sat in the shade of the willow tree
and cried




(photo courtesy of www.trekearth.com )

Interestings facts.

Did you know that the average person carries 1.5 ounces of wax in each ear?

Did you know that, due to blue shift and interstellar gasses, neutron star J743K0 once blinked 'S.O.S.' for fifteen minutes?

Did you know that salt is impervious to heat? And that if a dry roasted peanut could survive a nuclear blast, it would still taste salty?

Did you know that 1 in 3 adults still suck their thumb and hide it from their partner?

Did you know that if you ate a rose for dinner every day (minus the stem and thorns), your skin would take on a reddish hue after one month?

Did you know King Henry VIII could belch "God Save the King"? In two different octaves?

:)

Gotcha again.

On Beethoven and artistic determinism.

"Beethoven...turned out pieces of breath-taking rightness. Rightness - that's the word! When you get that feeling that whatever note succeeds the last is the only possible note that can rightly happen at that instant, in that context, then chances are you're listening to Beethoven. Melodies, fugues, rhythms - leave them to the Tchaikovskys and Hindemiths and Ravels. Our boy has the real goods, the stuff from Heaven, the power to make you feel at the finish: Something is right in the world. There is something that checks throughout, that follows its own law consistently: something we can trust, that will never let us down."

From Leonard Bernstein's "The Joy of Music" (Simon and Schuster, 2004)

*Feel free to substitute the name Beethoven with Zimmer, Goldsmith, Doyle, Fenton...

A brief history of perfect music.

In 1999 the movie Anna and the King, starring Jodie Foster and Chow-Yun Fat, was released in theaters, and while it only grossed several million dollars domestically, it is a fine movie, an epic really, and I recommend it to everyone.

I've always thought the soundtrack was so beautiful, but never really felt an urgency to purchase it until I saw that the manufacturer had discontinued its production. So I went to Amazon and ordered a used CD for very cheap, and it came in the mail a few days ago.

The history of music in movies is a good one. It actually begins in the era of music history known as Romanticism, when "program music" burst onto the scene thanks to Berlioz and his Symphonie Fantastique, which premiered accompanied by a paper program for audience members detailing the story behind the work. Music had been set to a story before, of course, in the form of opera, but this was something new. Whereas before, the music of Haydn and Bach and Mozart and Beethoven found its purpose in perfecting the classical composition, program music tells a story.

So even though in the grand scheme music has moved from Romanticism to Modernism, movie music, as it tells a story, still clings to that old tradition of taking the listener through an experience by setting a mood and highlighting action.

What truly made music in the post-Beethoven era Romantic, however, was its obvious beauty. And some of the best movie music today still gives us that. John Williams was once the master of the form, though his recent works have declined in creativity, in my opinion. Jerry Goldsmith passed away several years ago but left absolute gems, including his work on First Knight. Hans Zimmer should be heralded as the current master, beautifying everything from The Lion King and Crimson Tide to Gladiator and Kung Fu Panda.

The soundtrack to Anna and the King is another perfect example of how "program music" both elevates a cinematic work of art, and stands alone as a composition worthy of high praise. Unfortunately there's no way to post snippets, but trust me when I say that the themes George Fenton created are among the absolute best (and most beautiful) I've ever heard.

How can something like this not be nominated for an Oscar for Best Score? I know the Oscars aren't truly the be-all end-all, but I watch like a fan every year and it's still an immense honor to be nominated. In the same vein it's ridiculous for Patrick Doyle's incredible score for Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire not to have been nominated, or a certain Harlequin-haired crooner's work on one of the best movie songs of the last few decades ("Remember" from Troy). But, this isn't the time to air grievances. *grr*

I think, at the end of the day, what makes music so fulfilling and universal is its ability to convey the profound. Whether you're listening to a movie soundtrack or a jazz piece or a classic rock tune, every now and then you're just struck with the overwhelming notion that not only is this what music was meant to be, but that it's trying to tell you something, and no matter how hard a wordsmith may try, the message is still best conveyed in the mind and heart; felt, rather than uttered.

And that's how I felt listening to the soundtrack to Anna and the King; that the music meant something beyond the theme of the movie, that it relayed truths and ideas that lie too deep for mere mortals...try as we may to unlock the secrets.

Dammit, Jim!

I'm not a science writer so this may not make any sense at all. But I think it's fun to ponder these little conundrums.

Okay. Time travel. Still impossible. And when you think about it, if it were possible, someone should already have come back from the future by now.

But! I'm reading Chaos and Harmony by Trinh Xuan Thuan, and it's all about the cosmos and Einstein and things of that nature. And he's talking about how time appears to slow down as you near the speed of light. He gives a scenario with Jules and Jim; Jules is piloting a starship at 80% the speed of light and Jim is chillaxin' back on earth. Jim decides, about an hour into Jules' trip, to send him a message using tachyons. (Bear with me; tachyons are theoretical particles that can travel faster than the speed of light)

Okay, here's the conundrum. Once Jim sends the message, Jules receives it a half-hour before Jim has actually sent it. So when he sends the reply message, Jim receives it approximately 52 minutes before he sent his original message.

So I'm thinking....if Jim receives a reply before he even sends a message, thus making sending a message unnecessary, he wouldn't send it, and therefore would not receive a reply in the first place.

:P

It reminds me of Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey, where they need to leave the keys to the jail cell somewhere so they can retrieve them without having been given them in the first place, so they have to go back in the past and leave them behind a bush. Once Bill and Ted think of this idea, they go behind the bush and - voila! - there the keys are. But then, Bill reminds his friend that they have to remember to actually go back in time and leave the keys.

But what if they forgot? Then the keys would not be there in that moment when they went to go get them. And what if they then committed absolutely to going back in time and leaving the keys? Would they abruptly appear?

Ahhh, such speculation is almost fruitless. But I love it.

I now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.