“Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.” - Dr. Seuss

These are nineteen questions from Chuck Klosterman's IV. Chuck likes to ask odd questions, and this isn't his first list of them. I find these to be interesting, and, as readers of the Dark Tower know, nineteen is a mythical number. I will answer as best and as honestly as I can.

1. Think about your life. Think about the greatest thing you have ever done, and think about the worst thing you have ever done. Try to remember what motivated you to do the former, and try to remember what motivated you to do the latter... How similar are these two motives?

I'm glad this question didn't ask for an elaboration of what these things were, because there's no way I'd talk about it. As to the motivations, I'd have to say they were not similar at all. In fact, they are pretty close to being opposites. The former was due to complete and utter selfishness. The latter was due to selflessness and love. The opposite of love isn't hate. It's feeling nothing at all. And that was also true of the worst thing I ever did.

2. Think of someone who is your friend (do not select your best friend, but make sure the person is someone you would classify as "considerably more then an acquaintance"). This friend is going to be attacked by a grizzly bear. Now this person will survive the attack; that is guaranteed. There is a 100 percent chance that your friend will live. However, the extent of his injuries is unknown; he might receive nothing but a few superficial scratches, but he also might lose a limb (or multiple limbs). He might recover completely in twenty-four hours with nothing but a great story, or he might spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair. Somehow you have the ability to stop this attack from happening. You can magically save your friend from the bear. But his (or her) salvation will come at a peculiar price: if you choose to stop the bear, it will always rain. For the rest of your life, wherever you go, it will be raining. Sometimes it will pour and sometimes it will drizzle-but it will never not be raining. But it won't rain over the totality of the earth, nor will the hydrological cycle be disrupted; these storm clouds will be isolated, and they will focus entirely on your specific where-abouts. You will also never see the sun again. Do you stop the bear, accepting the lifetime of rain?

If I could cause it to permanently rain wherever I go, I would do that. For nothing.



3. Assume everything about your musical tastes was reversed overnight. Everything you loved, you now hate; everything you once hated, you now love. If your favorite band has always been REM, they will suddenly sound awful to you, they will become the band you dislike the most. Everything will become it's opposite, but everything will remain in balance (and the rest of your personality will remain unchanged). So-in all likelihood-you won't love music any less (or any more) then you do right now. There will still be artists you love and who make you happy; they will merely be the artists you currently find unlistenable. Now, I concede that this transformation would make you unhappy. But explain why.

Music is more than a trivial entertainment to me. It's an expression of deeper truths about myself and the world I live in. I couldn't just arbitrarily like all different stuff; the music I like is an extension of my personality. If I suddenly hated stoner metal and loved pop country, would it really be fair to say my personality hadn't changed beyond my musical taste? Also, I like a lot of different music. There's really very, very little I don't like. So if this theoretical transformation happened, I would dislike most music, and only enjoy a tiny fraction of artists, who represented a lifestyle and aesthetic radically different than my own.

4. At the age of thirty, you suffer a blow to the skull. The head trauma leave you with a rare form of partial amnesia-though otherwise fine, you're completely missing five years from your life. You have no memory of anything that happened between the ages of twenty-three and twenty-eight. That period of your life is completely gone; you have no recollection of anything that occurred during that five year gap.
You are told by friends and family that-when you were 25-you (supposedly) became close friends with someone you met on the street. You possess numerous photos of you and this person, and everyone in your life insists that you and this individual were best friends for over two years. You were (allegedly) inseparable. In face, you find several old letters and e-mails from this person that vaguely indicate you may have even shared a brief romantic relationship. But something happened between you and this individual when you were 27, and the friendship abruptly ended (and apparently-you never told anyone what caused this schism, so it remains a mystery to all). The friend moved away soon after the incident, wholly disappearing from your day-to-day life. But you have no memory of any of this. Within the context of your own mind, this person never existed. There is tangible proof that you deeply loved this friend, but-whenever you look at their photograph-all you see is a stranger.
Six weeks after your accident, you are informed this person suddenly died.
How sad do you feel?

Not at all. This is an interesting question, because I really do have almost no memory of the time between twenty-three and twenty-eight, because of my alcoholism. I've legitimately learned to just say fuck the past and move on, and that would apply to this hypothetical situation.

5. You work in an office performing a job that you find satisfying (and which compensates you adequately). The company that employs you is suddenly purchased by an eccentric millionaire who plans to immediately raise each person's salary by 5% and extend an extra week of vacation to all full-time employees.
However, this new owner intends to enforce a somewhat radical dress code: every day men will have to wear tuxedos, tails and top hats (during the summer months, men will be allowed to wear three piece grey suits on "casual Fridays"). Women must exclusively work in formal wear, preferably ball gowns or prom dresses. Each employee will be given an annual $500 stipend to purchase necessary garments, but that money can only be spent on work related clothing.
The new regime starts in 3 months.
Do you seek employment elsewhere? 
 
Certainly not! This sounds like a dream to me. If it was socially acceptable, and I could afford it, I'd dress like that anyway. It's an odd distinction, but while I don't think it's OK to be socially required to dress like that, it seems very fun and exciting if you happen to enjoy it, which I do.

6. You have been wrongly accused of a horrific crime: Due to a bizarre collision of unfortunate circumstances and insane coincidences, it appears that you have murdered a prominent U.S. senator, his beautiful young wife, and both of their infant children. Now, you did not do this, but you are indicted and brought to trial.
Predictably, the criminal proceedings are a national sensation (on par with the 1994 O.J. Simpson trial). It's on television constantly, and it's the lead story in most newspapers for almost a year. The prosecuting attorney is a charming genius; sadly, your defense team lacks creativity and panache. To make matters worse, the jury is a collection of easily confused sheep. You are found guilty and sentenced to four consecutive life terms with virtually no hope for parole (and - since there were no procedural mistakes during the proceedings - an appeal is hopeless).
This being the case, you are (obviously) disappointed.
However, as you leave the courtroom (and in the days immediately following the verdict), something becomes clear; the "court of public opinion" has overwhelmingly found you innocent. Over 95 percent of the country believes you are not guilty. Noted media personalities have declared this scenario "the ultimate legal tragedy." So you are going to spend the rest of your life amidst the general population of a maximum-security prison...but you are innocent, and everyone seems to know this.
Does this knowledge make you feel (a) better, (b) no different, or (c) worse?

I don't accept that I would be stuck in prison for life if everyone believes I'm innocent. Whatever the system says, you can get around it. There'd be a movement to free me. That said, under those conditions, I'd feel better, because I would truly believe I had a chance. On the other hand, if I accept the hypothetical that I will never get out of prison, I'd feel worse, because if I truly had no hope of release, I'd become a monster. I'd become the most feared, psychotic Simon Adebisi/Vern Schillinger motherfucker in that prison. And that would use up everyone's good will pretty quick.

7. You are offered a Brain Pill. If you swallow this pill, you will become 10 percent more intelligent than you currently are; you will be more adept at reading comprehension, logic, and critical thinking. However, to all other people you know (and to all future people you meet), you will seem 20 percent less intelligent. In other words, you will immediately become smarter, but the rest of the world will perceive you as dumber (and there is now way you can ever alter the universality of this perception).
Do you take this pill?

Yes. What kind of moron considers the perception of intelligence to be more important than intelligence? Appearing less intelligent than you are is tactically advantageous, as well. This is a win/win.

8. You begin watching a new television series, and you immediately find yourself strongly relating to one of the supporting characters. You've never before experienced a TV character that seems so similar to yourself; this fictional person dresses, behaves and talks exactly like you. And - slowly, over the course of several episodes - the similarity grows spooky; on two separate occasions, the character recounts personal anecdotes that happened in your real life. The actor portraying this character begins mimicking your mannerisms. In at least three different episodes, the character's dialog quotes things that you have said (verbatim) during casual conversation.
You become convinced that this is neither coincidence nor mental illness: somehow, this character is being actively based on your life. The show's writers generally depict the "you" character in a positive manner, but - as far as you can tell - you don't know anyone involved in the show's production or creation. It's totally inexplicable.
You have two friends who also watch this show. One of them is certain that your theory is correct and that (somehow) the character is, in fact, based on your life. She tells you to get a lawyer. The second friend concedes that many of the similarities are amazing, but that the whole notion is ridiculous, impossible, and egocentric. He tells you to see a therapist.
How do you respond to this situation? Do you do anything?


I might contact the show out of curiosity, but I really wouldn't care too much about this one way or the other. I'd just roll with it. Cal from 40 Year Old Virgin was like 85% me, anyway.

9. If given the choice, would you rather (a) only abide by the rules and moral of society that you personally agree with, or (b) have the power to slightly adjust the rules and morals that currently exist (but these adjustment would then apply to you and everyone else, all the time)? 
 
I do option A anyway. The rules and morals of society mean nothing to me.

10. You are placed in the unenviable position of having to compete for the right to stay alive.
You will be matched against a person of your own gender in a series of five events- an 800-meter run, a game of Scrabble, a three-round boxing match, a debate over the legalization of late-term abortion ( scored and officiated by reputable collegiate judges) and the math portion of the SAT.
In order to survive, you must win at least three of these events (your opponent will be playing for his or her life as well). However, you (kind of) get to pick your opponent: you can either (a) compete against a person selected at random, or (b) you can compete against someone who is exactly like you. If selected at random, the individual could be of any age or skill level-he/she might be an infant with Down syndrome, but she might also be an Academic All-American linebacker from Notre Dame. If you pick "the average human," he/she will be precisely your age and will have an identical level of education, and the person will be a perfect cross-section of your particular demographic-he/she will be of average height and of average weight, with a standard IQ and the most normative life experience imaginable.
So whom do you select? Or-perhaps more accurately-do you feel that you are better than an average version of yourself?

I'd go with someone exactly like me. I'm self educated and I come from poor white trash, so I would crush them in the debate and Scrabble events, and probably the math. That's got it, but I'd feel confident that I could pull another event too. If someone can run faster than me, I can probably beat them up, and if they can beat me up, I'm probably faster than them. I'm a Jack of both skills. Definitely the "me" option. I got it on lock.

11. It is 1933. You are in Berlin, Germany. Somehow you find yourself in position to effortlessly steal Adolf Hitler's wallet. This theft will not affect Hitler's rise to power, the nature of World War II, or the Holocaust. There are no important papers in the wallet, but the act will cost Hitler forty Reichsmarks and completely ruin his evening. You do not need the money. The odds that you will be caught are less than 2% but if caught you will be executed. Are you ethically obligated to steal Hitler's wallet?

Ruin Hitler's night for a 2% chance you'll be killed? That's absurd. What possible difference could that make regarding... anything? I know this wasn't the question, but I wouldn't kill Hitler either. Killing Hitler is way, way too big of a butterfly. You could easily doom humanity or something.

12. How would your views about war, politics and the role of the military change if all future conflicts were fought by armies of robots (that is to say, if all nations agreed to conduct wars exclusively with machines so that human casualties would be virtually non-existent)?

If you extrapolate this, the question is meaningless. What are you fighting over? Our robots are better than yours, so we can dictate what your country will do, or else... what? There's no viable war being fought. Unless the robots come in and kill your citizens when they defeat the opposing army (in which case, it's a lateral move), you're playing by the honor system. It's like if someone had sex with your girlfriend, so you kicked his ass in Street Fighter. No question here.

13. You are in a plane crash in the Andes Mountains, not unlike those people from the movie Alive. As such, you will be forced to consume the human flesh of the people who died on impact; this will be a terrible experience but it is the only way for you to survive. Fortunately, you did not know any of the victims personally.
Would you rather eat a dead baby, or would you rather eat a dead elderly person? Would you gender play a role in your selection process? And how much would it bother you if this meat turned out to be delicious? 
 
I wouldn't have a problem eating human flesh; in fact, I'd be kind of curious about it. Wendigo FTW. So I wouldn't care if it was delicious. As far as preferences, well... an elderly person would probably provide more meat than a baby.  It's not asking me if I'd kill someone to eat them, so really, it doesn't matter much. I would probably be somewhat bothered eating a baby because I have a baby, but I imagine I could compartmentalize that in my mind sufficiently enough to do it. Gender wouldn't matter.

14. Is there any widespread practice more futile than attempting to predict society's future relationship with technology?

I don't find that futile, as it's been done pretty successfully, by numerous Sci-Fi authors, and even by tech corporations. Shows what you know, Chuck.

15. While traveling on business, your spouse (whom you love) is involved in a plane crash over the Pacific Ocean. It is assumed that everyone on board has died. For the next seven months, you quietly mourn. But then the unbelievable happens: it turns out your spouse has survived. He/She managed to swim to a desert island, where he/she lived in relative comfort with one other survivor (they miraculously located most of the aircraft's supplies on the beach, and the island itself was filed with ample food sources). Against all odds, they have just been discovered by a Fijian fishing boat.
The two survivors return home vie helicopter, greeted by the public as media sensations. Immediately upon their arrival, there is an international press conference. And during this press conference, you cannot help but notice how sexy the other survivor is; physically, he/she perfectly embodies the type of person your mate is normally attracted to. Moreover, the intensity of the event has clearly galvanized a relationship between the two crash victims: they spend most of the interview explaining how they could not have survived without the other person's presence. They explain how they passed the time by telling anecdotes from their respective lives, and both admit to admit to having virtually given up on the possibility of rescue. They share a tearful good-bye hug. It's extremely emotional.
After the press conference you are finally reunited with your spouse. He/She embraces you warmly and kisses you deeply.
How long do you wait before asking if he/she was ever unfaithful to you on this island? Do you never ask? And if your mate's answer is "yes," would that (under these specific circumstances) be acceptable?

I would never ask. I'm not the jealous type, and I assume the "unfaithful" in the question is talking about sex, which wouldn't bother me. In fact, I'd kind of expect it if two people were stranded on an island, whether they were super compatible or not. I'm bothered by "cheating" with emotional intimacy, not sex, and that has clearly occurred between the survivors. It isn't cheating in those circumstances, though, certainly, and is perfectly acceptable and understandable. You'd have to be a pretty insecure douche to get hung up about this sort of thing.

16. Let us assume you have the ability to telekinetically change culture while you actively experience it. Your mind can now dictate what you see and hear. For example, if you were listening to Pear Jam's Yield and you wanted the music to be heavier, it would immediately sound as though Mike McCready's guitar had been tuned differently in the studio. If you were watching The Office on NBC and decided that Jim should marry Pam (or Karen, or both), you could make it happen--all you would need to do is think about that specific desire. You could stare at an oil painting and unconsciously change the color contrasts. If a PG13 romantic comedy grew dull, you could force it to evolve into an eroticized NC-17 thriller. You could (essentially) write books as you read them, eliminating certain characters and redirecting plot points as the occurred in the text. However, such changes would only apply to your experience; you could kill off Han Solo at the end of Return of the Jedi, but htat would not change the movie for anyone else. All other people would posses the same personal telekinetic powers as you.
Would you want this? And--if this became a reality--would art retain any meaning whatsoever?

Oh man, I so want this. I've often said if I found a genie's lamp, my first wish would be omnipotence and I wouldn't need the other two. When I contemplate omnipotence, this exact thing is one of the things I'd love to do with it. Art would definitely have meaning, you'd just have to view it with self imposed limits. That's like saying running has no meaning because we have cars.

17. You die from natural causes.
Upon death, you are absorbed skyward. You ascend toward a warm, white light. You immediately realize you have entered the afterlife...and (much to your surprise) it is exactly like the cliched conventional, kindergarten version of Christian heaven. You enter through gates made of pearl. The ground is covered by a white, cloud like fog. Angels fly around you and play the hard. You are wearing a comfortable white robe. Everyone there is aimlessly walking around, smiling broadly, perfectly content; this, it seems, is how you will spend eternity.
Upon your arrival, you are greeted by Jesus (and he looks exactly like the stereotypical depiction of Jesus). "Welcome to heaven," he says. "I think you will like it here, and I look forward to loving you unconditionally for the duration of time. But I also realize heaven isn't necessarily for everyone, so I always give newcomers a chance to go to the other place, if that's what they would prefer."
"Are you referring to hell?" you say in response.
"Oh, no," says Jesus. "Not hell. Certainly not hell. I would never send you to hell. But you can go to somewhere that isn't here. It's a viable post-life option. About 18% of our potential residents go in that direction."
"What is the other place like?" you ask.
"I can't tell you," says Jesus. "But if you do elect to go there, you can never come back here. And you only have 20 minutes to decide."
"Why only 20?" you ask.
"Because I am Jesus," says Jesus.
What do you do?


LOL

18. The world is ending. It's ending quickly, and it's ending dramatically. It will either end at noon on your fortieth birthday, or it will end two days after you die (from natural causes) at the age of seventy-five. Which apocalyptic scenario do you prefer?

I'd live to 75. I'd rather not kill my daughter when she's 11, but even if I were childless, I'd wring it for all it's worth, Alan Arkin in Little Miss Sunshine style.

19. You are given the chance to control what your legacy will be. You can't specifically dictate how you will be recalled by future generations, but you are given the chance to choose between two general idioms of legacies.
The first kind of legacy ("option A") would be that you lived your days as a good, honest person who worked hard and contributed to society. However, the limitation of this legacy will be that almost no one will know or remember this information (including future members of your own extended family). Most average people will never even know you lived.
The second kind of legacy ("option B") will be familiar to almost everyone in the world for centuries to come. However, this legacy will be extremely strange and neutral; it will be an obscure fact that has almost nothing to do with your tangible day-to-day life (the best comparison being the legacy of General Tso Tsungtang, an extremely gifted and successful military leader during the seventeenth-century Qing Dynasty who is now exclusively remembered as the namesake for the popular Chinese dish General Tso's chicken).
Which legacy do you want?

I really don't care how I'm remembered after I'm dead. I'm dead, after all. But I'd choose option A, if only because option B is a non-legacy. Using his example (and Chuck apparently doesn't know what "exclusively" means), I don't think most people even think General Tso is a real person. Your name is being remembered, but it has nothing whatsoever to do with you, and it's not like I have all that unique of a name. If there was a David T. McLaughlin's Chicken, it would not be a legacy at all. There was a president of Dartmouth with the exact same name as me. Why wouldn't the metaphorical chicken dish be associated with the Dartmouth president? It's meaningless. Who would say "Nah, fuck contributing to society. I want my name on a sandwich."?