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Wednesday, March 30, 2005

The Game

How do geeks entertain themselves, you wonder? The Game. Or some variant thereof whose name will vary too, though to us it was always and only The Game.

The rules are simple - childish naturally, for we are indeed geeks - and when played at appropriate moments are guaranteed to provoke an instant flush of shame. Or rage. Whatevs: during the course of regular unsuspecting conversation with your colleagues or friends, deliberately introduce some slight corruption, some malaprop or petty misconstruction. And then, when your erstwhile friends correct you, you've won.

Simple. Deadly. My wife and children despise it almost to the point of divorce or emancipation, but that does not stop them trying to play me when it suits them?

Anyway, it all came flooding back today when I peaked here, at La Vache Qui Lit and noticed the photograph in the upper right corner. My first thought? Oskar Meyer!

The rules state, however, that since I was not in Game mode when I thought of it - in other words, it was an unintended, accidental corruption - it does not count, and I may indeed be slagged without mercy for being an idiot.

[LATER...

"And he was taken next day to dangle his heels in the north wind."
-- Boccaccio, The Decameron
Well. Serves me right for being too obtuse: the picture that appeared at La Vache Qui Lit yesterday was of a little blond-haired blue-eyed boy, banging on his drum. But all is changed today. Not all - that's clearly an exaggeration - rather, the photograph is gone, but an interesting blog remains. -- Fcb]

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