It’s The Least Wonderful Time Of The Year

Well, it’s begun again: the annual descent into Hell that is summer in Gotham. Today got up to around 90°, with life-threatening humidity, and a pitiless white sky. These are, of course, optimal conditions for moving furniture up and down several flights of stairs, which was how I spent much of the afternoon, as my daughter was moving into her new apartment.

As a result, I am spent. There will be no post today.

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  1. Kevin Kim says

    I’m guessing that there are no elevators in this apartment.

    Whatever happened to moving objects with your mind? I need to review what you all learn in kung fu…


    Posted June 3, 2007 at 5:13 am | Permalink
  2. Malcolm says

    Of course I move them with my mind! Just ask Dr. V., Titus, R. et al. Here’s how I do it:

    The immaterial Mind forms a belief: namely, that the the abstractly existing proposition these bookcases ought not to be in the back of my station wagon, but ought, rather to be in that apartment that is three flights of stairs above us is in fact true. (This is, of course, the result of my Mind’s being informed by the objective moral Truth that “one should help one’s daughter move.”)

    Next, said immaterial Mind (which, of course, as a “substance” unto itself, is capable of independent existence, despite being, due to its embodiment in my corruptible carcass, susceptible to every imaginable physical injury and manipulation, up to and including total personality changes, amnesia, you name it) simply instructs, by the yet-unexplained process of dualistic interaction (which is, of course, a more parsimonious account than that the brain just generates the mind, as all those goofy scientsists seem to think), said pile of meat (that’s me) to lug the stuff up the stairs.

    Voilà. Mind over matter.

    Posted June 3, 2007 at 1:35 pm | Permalink
  3. Andrew says

    This post is a strange loop

    Posted June 3, 2007 at 2:47 pm | Permalink
  4. Malcolm says

    Hi Andrew,

    Aren’t we all?

    Posted June 3, 2007 at 5:05 pm | Permalink
  5. My immaterial mind told my all too material son that his beer-swilling mates should help him move!

    Posted June 4, 2007 at 9:57 am | Permalink