The Parable of the Youth’s Permission

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ”Teacher, how frustrated must the President be to have to ask permission as Commander in Chief to go to war?”

Josh spoke thus:

A parent and a youth were discussing whether the youth would attend a rock concert.

“You have to ask permission to go to a rock concert,” the parent said to the youth, “You know that.”

“I also know that you won’t let me go to the rock concert,” the youth said to the parent, “So what’s the point”

“Why is it so important for you to go to this concert?” the parent asked the youth, “A month ago you didn’t want to go.  You don’t even like this rock band.  You don’t even like rock music.”

“If I don’t go to this concert,” the youth said, “Then everyone will know you didn’t let me go to the concert.”

“What does it matter if I let you go to the concert if you don’t even want to go to the concert?” the parent asked, “Why don’t you just not go to the concert, and not ask me whether you can go to the concert, because you’re not going to the concert?  Then I won’t have to tell you that you can’t go to the concert.”

“Because nobody will believe that I didn’t want to go to the concert,” the youth said, “Everyone will think I chickened out and didn’t ask you, then lied and said you said I couldn’t go.”

“That’s ridiculous,” the parent said.

“It’s the truth,” the youth said.

“Well if you’re so sure I’ll say no,” the parent said, “Why don’t you just tell everyone that it was already established that you can’t go, so no, you can’t go?”

“I would never live that down,” the youth said, “Everyone is asking their parents.  If I don’t ask, I’ll be the only one who didn’t.”

“And aren’t all their parents saying no?” the parent asked.

“Nobody’s parents are saying no,” the youth said.

“Well I’m saying no,” the parent said.

“But I didn’t ask,” the youth said.

“Then ask,” the parent said.

“Can I go?” the youth asked.

“No, you can’t go!” the parent said.

“You never let me go!” the youth said, and the youth stormed out of the room.  Once out of the room, the youth called one of the youth’s friends on the phone.

“I asked, and I can’t go,” the youth said, “You neither?  What a relief, huh?”

The Parable of the Sporting Bet

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ”Teacher, if you trust your military intelligence and act on what they tell you, and they’re wrong, and they’re wrong, and they’re wrong again, is it wrong to see a pattern and maybe be less trusting?”

Josh spoke thus:

Two friends were watching a sporting event.  Each of the fans supported one of the two opposing teams in the sporting event.

“I thought you were confident about winning,” one friend said to the other.

“I am confident,” the second friend said.

“We’re going to smash you, I seem to remember you saying,” the first friend said.

“We are going to smash you,” the second friend said.

“You said, if I recall correctly,” the first friend said, “That your attackers were far too fast for our defenders.  You said that your attackers were bigger than our defenders.  You said that every time you had the ball you would score.  You said that there was no way our defense could stop your offense.”

“Our attackers are far to fast for your defenders,” the second friend said, “Our attackers are bigger.  We will score.  There is not way your defense can stop our offense.”

“And you said our attackers would be dwarfed by your defenders,” the first friend said, “And that your defenders would smash our attackers.  You said you will stop us from ever scoring.  You said our offense would have no chance of scoring against your defense.”

“Your attackers are dwarfed by our defenders,” the second friend said, “And our defenders will smash your attackers.  We’ll stop you from scoring.  Your offense will have no chance of scoring against our defense.”

“You realize that’s exactly what you said the last time we played,” the first friend said.

“I’m aware of that,” the second friend said.

“And you remember that the last time we played, we crushed you,” the first friend said.

“I remember that,” the second friend said, “But that was last time, this time is different.”

“How is it different?” the first friend asked.

“This time we’re better prepared,” the second friend said, “This time we have better players.”

“You’re confident about that, are you?” the first friend asked.
“I’m confident about that,” the second friend said.

“So you’re willing to bet some cash on that?” the first friend asked, “How much do you want to bet?”

“Are you crazy?” the second friend asked, “Last time we played, you crushed us!”

The Parable of the Cobbler’s Son

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ”Teacher, if the minimum wage goes up, don’t all wages go up?  And when all wages go up, don’t prices go up?  And doesn’t that just put us where we started, but with higher prices?  Isn’t the bottom always the bottom?”

Josh spoke thus:

A cobbler was looking at a pair of shoes.

“These are the finest shoes I have ever seen,” the cobbler said.

The cobbler’s child examined one of the shoes.

“Who would wear this shoe?” the child asked.

“That is a very fine shoe,” the cobbler said, “A very fine gentleman would wear that shoe.”

“Why is it fine?” the child asked.

“The leather is the softest leather,” the cobbler said, “The tanner and I have been friends since we were children, and the tanner saves the best scraps for me.”

“Is the bottom fine leather too?” the child asked.

“The bottom is made of a different leather,” the cobbler said, “The bottom of a shoe needs to be harder than the top.  The bottom of a shoe needs to last.”

“The bottom is not as hard as the bottom of my shoe,” the child said.

“Your shoe is wooden,” the cobbler said.

“So the bottom of my shoe is better than the bottom of this fine shoe,” the child said.

“The leather bottom is more supple,” the cobbler said, “See how it can bend?  That way when your foot bends, the shoe bends too.”

“Then I wouldn’t know I was wearing a shoe,” the child said.

“That’s the point,” the cobbler said, “The wearer of a fine shoe doesn’t want to feel the shoe.”

“I would want to know I was wearing a shoe,” the child said, “I would want to know to take off my shoes when I came inside.”

“Wearers of fine shoes don’t have to take off their shoes when they come inside,” the cobbler said, “Wearers of fine shoes leave their shoes on.”

“Without wooden bottoms?” the child said, “Won’t the bottoms of their shoes wear through?”

“They do wear through,” the cobbler said, “And I make new bottoms.  And that is how I put food on the table.”

“Can you make me fine shoes that I can wear in the house and that have soft leather tops and supple leather bottoms?” the child asked.

The cobbler laughed.

“I can make you wooden shoes, and you will be happy to have them,” the cobbler said.

“What if I make them myself?” the child asked.

“Then you will be a cobbler,” the cobbler said, “And you will sell those shoes to put food on the table.  And you will wear wooden shoes, and you will be happy to have them.”

The Parable of the Library Patron and the Librarian

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ”Teacher, what can we learn from people speaking about the speeches about Martin Luther King Junior’s speech in front of the March on Washington?”

Josh spoke thus:

A library patron approached a librarian and held up a book.
“What did you think of it?” the library patron asked the librarian.
The librarian took the book from the library patron and looked at the back cover.
“It’s a page turner,” the librarian told the library patron, “Not since Mark Twain returned to a life of Samuel Clemens has satire been so biting, wit so cutting, brevity so sharp.”
“You just read that off the dust jacket,” the library patron said.
“That doesn’t mean it isn’t true,” the librarian said.
“It doesn’t even make any sense!” the library patron said, “Mark Twain never went back to a life of Samuel Clemens.”
“How do you know he didn’t?” the librarian asked, “Have you read the book?”
“Is it in this book?” the library patron asked, “I didn’t think the book was about Mark Twain.”
“It’s not about Mark Twain,” the librarian said, “Look at the picture on the front.  The picture is of a 1940s New York City skyline.  Mark Twain was dead long before the 1940s.”
“But that still doesn’t tell me what the book is about,” the library patron said.
The librarian led the library patron to the card catalogue.  After a few moments of searching, the librarian pulled a small number of cards from the catalogue.
“Try these,” the librarian said, handing the cards to the library patron.  The library patron looked at the cards.  They indicated books about the book the library patron was holding and about that book’s author.”
“There are a lot of books about this book,” the library patron said.
The librarian led the library patron to the old-magazine vault and chose a number of old magazines from the stacks.
“There are a lot of magazine articles about this book,” the library patron said.
“Those magazine articles aren’t about the book,” the librarian said, “Those magazine articles are about the books about the book.”  The librarian indicated the card catalogue cards in the library patron’s hand.
“Have you read all these articles?” the library patron asked the librarian.
“And the books,” the librarian said.
“You’ve read the books about the book and the magazine articles about the books about the book, but you haven’t read the book?” the library patron asked.
The librarian replied, “I don’t like Mark Twain.”

The Parable of the Large Family Around the Large Table

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, “Teacher, if terrorism is about controlling the message in an asymmetrical conflict, is control of the message the ultimate weapon?”

Josh spoke thus:

A large family was eating a large meal at a large table.  The head of the large family was a large man.  The large man was married to a large woman.  The large man and the large woman had four large sons.  The four large sons had four large wives.  Each of the four large sons and their four large wives had four large sons.  All except one small son.  There were 15 large sons, and one small son.  They called the one small son Paul Bunyan, as a joke.

The large table was laid with a large meal.  There were large cuts of meat from large bulls, from large pigs, from large chickens and from large fish.  There were large loaves of bread, and large pats of butter.  There were large wooden bowls filled with large salads made from large tomatoes, large heads of lettuce, large carrots, large onions, even large bacon bits.  There were large spoons and large forks, and the knives were so large that when he made them, the local blacksmith was convinced he was making swords, not dinner knives.

Around the large table sat twenty-six large chairs.  And in the twenty-six large chairs were twenty-five large posteriors and one small one.  Paul Bunyan was dwarfed by the chair.  Paul Bunyan was dwarfed by the table.  Paul Bunyan was dwarfed by the large cuts of meat, by the large bowls of salad, even by the large bacon bits.  And when Paul Bunyan held a large dinner knife, Paul Bunyan may as well have been holding a sword.

Mostly, though, Paul Bunyan was dwarfed by Paul Bunyan’s fifteen siblings and cousins.  Paul Bunyan was dwarfed by Paul Bunyan’s six uncles and six aunts.  Paul Bunyan was dwarfed by Paul Bunyan’s mother and father.  Especially, Paul Bunyan was dwarfed by Paul Bunyan’s grandmother and grandfather.  Paul Bunyan’s grandmother and grandfather were enormous.

Paul Bunyan’s large family was making a large noise around the large dinner table.  Paul Bunyan, unheard, asked for someone to pass a large loaf of bread.  Paul Bunyan, unheard, asked for someone to pass a large butter patty.  Paul Bunyan, unheard, asked for someone to pass a leg of lamb, a hock of ham, a wing of chicken, a rump of roast.  Paul Bunyan could not reach the large food on the large table, and Paul Bunyan could not make himself heard above the large noise of Paul Bunyan’s large family.

Paul Bunyan turned to Paul Bunyan’s large dog, a large mastiff that always sat by Paul Bunyan’s side at meals, waiting for scraps.

“Grab me a chicken leg, will you?” Paul Bunyan asked Paul Bunyan’s large mastiff.  Paul Bunyan motioned for the large mastiff to climb up on the table.  Delighted by the invitation, the large mastiff leapt up amid the large meal.

The large family made a large noise of protest.

“My ham!” one shouted.

“My salad!” another shouted.

“Stay out of the potatoes!” a third shouted.

“Let go of that chicken!” a fourth shouted.

The mastiff was shooed off the table, dropping a chicken leg in Paul Bunyan’s lap as it descended.

“Good boy!” Paul Bunyan said, as the mastiff left the room with the remainder of the chicken.

“Whoever taught that dog such horrible manners?” the large head of the household asked the others around the table.  Nobody knew where the large mastiff had gotten its horrible manners.

Paul Bunyan smiled and ate his chicken leg.

The Parable of the Grandchildren and the Chocolates

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ”Teacher, when a nation breaks international rules of behavior but is backed by a major world power, how can that nation be punished?”

Josh spoke thus:

A grandparent was holding a box of chocolates.

“These are my favorite chocolates,” the grandparent told two grandchildren, “They are very hard to find, and very expensive.”

“Are they good?” one grandchild asked.

“I remember that they were good,” the grandparent said.

“When was the last time you had one?” the second grandchild asked.

“It’s been twenty years since I’ve had one,” the grandparent said.

“Why don’t you eat one now?” the first grandchild asked.

“Oh, no,” the grandparent said, “They are too precious to eat. If I ate them, I’d have none left.  And if I had none left, I could no longer look forward to having them.”

“But they’re chocolates,” the second grandchild said, “Chocolates are for eating.”

“Not these chocolates,” the grandparent said.  The grandparent set the chocolates on a shelf and left the room.

“They’re chocolates,” the second grandchild said to the first grandchild, “We should eat them.”

“But these ones are not for eating,” the first grandchild said.

“Why show them to us if we’re no supposed to eat them?” the second grandchild asked, “Why leave them on the table?”

“Maybe it’s a test,” the first grandchild.

“Then I fail the test,” the second grandchild said.  The second grandchild grabbed a chocolate and took a bite.  The second grandchild spat the chocolate out.  “It’s disgusting,” the second grandchild said, “It’s bitter.”

The first grandchild took a chocolate and tasted it.

“It’s not disgusting,” the first grandchild said, “It’s divine.  It’s the best chocolate I’ve ever tasted.”  The first grandchild took another chocolate.  Then the first grandchild took at third and a fourth.  Soon the chocolate box was empty.

The second grandchild laughed at the first grandchild.

“I made you take a chocolate!” the second grandchild said, “I made you eat the whole box of chocolates!”

The grandparent returned to the room to find the empty chocolate box on the table.

“Who ate all my chocolates?” the grandparent asked.

The second grandchild pointed at the first grandchild.  In the pointing hand, the second grandchild held the first chocolate taken from the box, the chocolate the second grandchild had declared to be bitter.

“You!” the grandparent said, “First you eat my chocolates, and then you blame your sibling!  You are an evil grandchild!  You shall receive no gifts from me!”

From a high shelf the grandparent took down a second box of chocolates.

“Here,” the grandparent said to the first grandchild, “Here is your reward for showing such excellent self control.  I never could have resisted those chocolates!”

The grandparent led the first grandchild out of the room, praising the first grandchild and speaking ill of the second grandchild.

The second grandchild ate the rest of the chocolate in the second grandchild’s accusing hand.  It really was bitter.

The Parable of the Two Spin Doctors

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ”Teacher, do politics sustain when both sides of the aisle agree?”

Josh spoke thus:

Two spin doctors were sitting in a bar ordering drinks.

“Give me something strong,” the first spin doctor said to the bartender.
“Give me something stronger,” the second spin doctor said to the bartender.

“I need something to calm my nerves,” the first spin doctor said.

“My nerves are shattered,” the second spin doctor said.

“This has never happened to me before,” the first spin doctor said.

“It happens to everyone,” the second spin doctor said.

“Not to me it doesn’t happen,” the first spin doctor said.

“Don’t take it personally,” the second spin doctor said.

“Don’t take it personally?” the first spin doctor said, “How can it get more personal than this?”

“There’s no reason to be embarrassed,” the second spin doctor said, “It’s natural.”

“I can think of nothing more unnatural,” the first spin doctor said.

“It’s not anything to do with you personally,” the second spin doctor said.
“It’s intimately to do with me personally,” the first spin doctor said, “I couldn’t spin it.  I’ve always been able to spin it.  I’ve spinned it two, three, four different stories in a night.  This time I couldn’t spin it at all.”

“You just have to get back on the horse,” the second spin doctor said.

“I’m not sure I want to get back on the horse,” the first spin doctor said.

“It’s natural to think that now,” the second spin doctor said, “But you won’t feel that way in the morning.”

“I won’t be able to face myself in the morning,” the first spin doctor said, “How do you do it?  How do you stay so positive?  Even now you’re spinning it.  In the face of everything, you’re spinning it.”

“What else can I do?” the second spin doctor said.

“Because you spin?” the first spin doctor asked, “Because there’s always a positive spin?”

“Because sometimes the positive spin isn’t spin,” the spin doctor said, “Sometimes the positive spin is the obvious, plain truth.”

“So you’re saying this thing today doesn’t need spin?” the first spin doctor asked.

“I’m saying this thing today is the obvious, plain truth,” the second spin doctor said.

“But both sides agreed,” the first spin doctor said, “Your side and my side, they both agreed.”

“They agreed to the obvious, plain truth,” the second spin doctor said.

“But neither side won,” the first spin doctor said.

“Both sides won,” the second spin doctor said.

The first spin doctor considered the possibility of both sides winning.

“Now I really need a drink,” the first spin doctor said to the bartender.

“Make it two,” the second spin doctor said to the bartender.

The Parable of the Dream Walk

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ”Where is the world half a century after the March on Washington?”

Josh spoke thus:

One day a dreamer decided to go for a walk.

“You’re only a dreamer,” the dreamer was told, “And your walk is only a dream walk.”

“If my walk is a dream, then I will go for a dream walk,” the dreamer replied.

So the dreamer went on a dream walk.

The dreamer had not walked far before a child by the side of the road asked where the dreamer was going.  The child asked the dreamer what the destination was of a dream walk.

“The destination of a dream walk is a dream,” the dreamer told the child.

The child said to the dreamer that a dream would be a fine thing to see.

“If you will see the dream then you must walk the dream walk,” the dreamer told the child.

The child asked to join the dreamer in the dream walk.  The dreamer welcomed the child.  The dreamer and the child walked together.

After a short while, a woman by the side of the road asked the dreamer and the child where they were going.  The dreamer and the child told the woman that they were on a dream walk.

“I would like to see a dream,” the woman said to the dreamer and the child, “May I walk with you on your dream walk?”

The dreamer told the woman that she could join the dream walk.  The woman and the child and the dreamer walked together.

And so it was mile after mile.  Bystanders asked the dreamer where the dreamer was going.  The dreamer told the bystanders that the dreamer was walking a dream walk.

Some bystanders chose to stay, but many bystanders asked to join the dream walk, so that the dream walk was a mass movement.

The dreamer was told that the movement was a dream.  The dreamer said that it was a dream movement.

After many miles, the throng that were the child and the woman and the many bystanders grew weary from dream walking, because dream walking, as everyone knows, requires great energy.  The throng that was the dream movement asked the dream when they would reach the dream.  The dream movement asked the dreamer when they could rest.

“There is no rest,” the dreamer told the dream movement, “When you walk a dream walk there is no destination.  The dream walk is the destination.  The dream walk is the dream.”

When the dreamer died, the child asked the woman, “Has the dreamer reached the dream?”

“The dream walk is the dream,” the woman told the child.

“Then I will walk the dream walk for the dreamer,” the child said, “I will walk the dream walk for the dream.”

“You’re just a dreamer,” the child was told, “And your walk is just a dream walk.”

The Parable of Two Generals at the Border

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ”Teacher, is the media tail now wagging the world’s dog?”

Josh spoke thus:

Two generals were facing each other over barricades at the border.

“You can not invade us,” one general said to the other.

“Why would we invade you?” the second general asked, “It is you who would invade us.”

“Your land is lawless,” the first general said, “And your land is poor.”

“Your land is just as lawless,” the second general said, “And you are just as poor.”

“You live in a dictatorship,” the first general said.

“You also live in a dictatorship,” the second general said.

“Your country is dominated by plutocrats who steal from the poor,” the first general said.

“Your country is also dominated by plutocrats who steal from the poor,” the second general said.

“Your middle class is crumbling,” the first general said.

“Your middle class is also crumbling,” the second general said.

“Your people are illiterate subsistence farmers,” the first general said.

“Your people are also illiterate subsistence farmers,” the second general said.

“You have no civil liberties,” the first general said.

“You have no civil liberties either,” the second general said.

“Your elections are a sham,” the first general said, “Your politicians run unopposed and political opposition is silenced.”

“Your elections are also a sham,” the second general said, “And your politicians also run unopposed and your political opposition is also silenced.”

“Your government is propped up by foreign interests,” the first general said, “You blackmail the foreign interests with your cheap resources and your cheap labor.”

“Your government is also propped up by foreign interests,” the second general said, “And you also blackmail the foreign interests with your cheap resources and your cheap labor.”

“That is my point exactly,” the first general said, “I live in a paradise.  What need have I to start a war?”

“And I too live in a paradise,” the second general said, “I too have no need to start a war.”

“And yet cable news will send us to war,” the first general said.

“Twenty-four hours is a large programming window to fill,” the second general said.

The Parable of the Children Hitting Each Other

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ”Teacher, how do you weigh the merits of unreliable accounts on both sides of a war?”

Josh spoke thus:

Two children ran to their parent.

“He hit me!” one child said.

“He hit me first,” the second child said.

“Why did you hit him?” the parent asked the first child.

“He was going to hit me!” the first child said.

“I was not going to hit him!” the second child said.

“He had a bat!” the first child said.

“I was going to play with the bat!” the second child said.

“You know you’re not allowed to use the bat indoors,” the parent told the second child.

“I wasn’t using the bat indoors,” the second child said, “I was just holding the bat.”

“He wasn’t just hold the bat,” the first child said, “He was swinging the bat.”

“I was stretching,” the second child said.

“He was swinging it,” the first child said, “He was swinging it like he was going to hit me!”

“Why were you swinging the bat?” the parent asked the second child.

“He was going to throw his ball at me,” the second child said.

“You know you’re not allowed to throw balls in the house,” the parent told the first child.

“I wasn’t going to throw the ball till he started swinging the bat,” the first child said.

“I had to swing the bat or we would have hit me with the ball,” the second child said.

“You told me you were only stretching,” the parent said to the second child.

“I stretching until he started to throw the ball,” the second child said.

“I threw the ball because he was going to swing the bat,” the first child said.

“And you threw the ball at him to stop him hitting you?” the parent asked the first child.

“I didn’t throw the ball at him,” the first child said, “I didn’t mean to hit him.”

The parent thought for a moment, then asked the second child, “Did you step into the path of the ball?”

The second child admitted to stepping in front of the ball.

“Then you’re out,” the parent said to the second child.

“But it hit me!” the second child said.

“You’re out, and that’s final,” the parent said, “Now both of you, give me the ball and the bat.  I told you not to play with them in the house.”

“But it’s raining outside!” both children said.

“And no more fighting,” the parent said.

“But it’s raining outside!” both children said.

The Parable of the Two Rivals

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ”Teacher, the Syrians have been in Syria since civilization began, pretty much.  The Egyptians have been in Eqypt for as long.  How long has America been dabbling in the Middle East?”

Josh spoke thus:

Two rivals were playing a board game together.  One rival was clearly beating the second rival.

“Why don’t you just give in?” the first rival asked the second rival.

“I never surrender,” the second rival said.

The two rivals played on.  The first rival’s advantage over the second rival increased.

“Come on,” the first rival said, “You can’t win.  You know you can’t win.  Just give in.”

“Giving in is giving up,” the second rival said, “And winners don’t give up.”

“That should be no problem for you,” the first rival said, “You’re not a winner.  Go ahead and give up.”

“Winners never quit, and quitters never win,” the second rival said.

“Bad losers never know when to quit,” the first rival said, “And bad losers still don’t win.”

“Just keep playing,” the second rival said.  The two rivals played on.  Finally, the first rival won the game.

“Best two out of three,” the second rival said.

“I don’t want to play two out of three,” the first rival said.

“Are you afraid of losing?” the second rival asked.

“I’m afraid of having to sit through the embarrassment of watching you play that badly again,” the first rival said, “And I’ll feel partly responsible, for having encouraged you.”

“I’ll beat you,” the second rival said, “In the end I’ll beat you.  I will never quit, and because I’ll never quit, I’ll never lose.”

“It’s just a game,” the first rival said, “Let it go.”

“It’s not just a game,” the second rival said, “And I’ll never let it go.”

“I’m going home,” the first rival said.

“Aha!  I win!” the second rival said.

“Fine, you win,” the first rival said.  The first rival left.

A few moments after the first rival left, the person for whose affection the two rivals were vying arrived.

“I won,” the second rival said.

“You never win,” the person for whose affection the two rivals were vying said.

“I always win,” the second rival said, “Because I persist.”

“Persisting isn’t winning,” the person for whose affection the two rivals were vying said.

“You’re going to dinner with me,” the second rival said.

“Only because you’re the only one here,” the person for whose affection the two rivals were vying said.

“See?” the second rival said, “I win.”

The Parable of the Two Philosophers and the Cat-Holding Box

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ” Teacher, when someone hears a tree fall in the forest but can’t tell anybody, has the tree fallen?”

Josh spoke thus:

An existential philosopher and an idealist philosopher were looking at a box.

“There is no cat in that box,” the existential philosopher said, “Until I open that box and see a cat in it, the cat doesn’t exist.  I can talk about the probability of the cat’s being in the box, but I can’t talk about the cat in the box.”

“Whether you see the cat in the box is immaterial,” the idealist philosopher said, “If there is a cat in that box, there is a cat in that box, and if there is not a cat in that box, then there is not a cat in that box.”

“But before we know there is a cat in that box,” the existential philosopher said, “The statement ‘There is a cat in that box’ has no meaning.  One can only say, ‘There might be a cat in that box,’ or ‘I believe there is a cat in that box.’”

“There is much more you can say about that cat,” the idealist philosopher said, “You can say that it has four legs, that it has whiskers, that it eats mice.”

“You can say no such thing,” the existential philosopher said, “You can say that other cats you have seen have had four legs (although I’ve seen three-legged cats in my time), that other cats have had whiskers, that other cats have eaten mice.”

“But if it’s a cat,” the idealist philosopher said, “It is reasonable to assume that it has four legs, has whiskers and eats mice.  By defining a cat as something that has four legs, has whiskers and eats mice, we define the object that is in the box as being a cat.”

“But if there’s no cat there, then you’re defining the emptiness that is in the box as a cat,” the existential philosopher said, “And clearly that’s absurd.

“What kind of box is it?” the idealist philosopher asked.

“What’s the box got to do with it?” the existential philosopher said.

“Is it a cat-holding box, or is it not a cat-holding box?” the idealist philosopher asked.

“How should I know what kind of box it is?” the existential philosopher asked, “It’s a box.”

“If it’s a cat-holding box, then it’s got a cat in it,” the idealist philosopher said.

“If it’s a cat-holding box and it’s got anything in it, it’s highly likely what it’s got in it is a cat,” the existential philosopher said, “But if it’s empty, then you can’t define nothingness as a cat just because cat-holding boxes hold cats.  Cat-holding boxes, when they have no cats in them, can hold anything in them.  Or nothing at all.  What is in the box defines what kind of box it is.  The kind of box it is in does not define what’s in it.”

“Pick it up and shake it,” the idealist philosopher said.

“Oh for goodness’ sake!” the idealist philosopher’s spouse said, “You two can even spoil a simple birthday party!  Open the present already!”

“So it’s a present-holding box?” the idealist philosopher asked.

“It’s a smash it over your head if you don’t open it already box,” the idealist philosopher’s spouse said, “Open it!”

The Parable of the Oil Executive atop Kilimanjaro

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ”Teacher, is a secret a secret if it isn’t secret?”

Josh spoke thus:

An oil executive was standing at the top of Mount Kilimanjaro, weeping.

“All my life,” the oil executive said, “All my life I’ve wanted to come to Africa.  All my life I’ve wanted to come to Mount Kilimanjaro.  All my life I’ve dreamed of climbing Mount Kilimanjaro.”

“And now you are here,” the oil executive’s guide said.

“As a youth,” the oil executive said, “I read The Snows of Kilimanjaro.  As a youth I read Green Hills of Africa.  I read Hemingway, and I wept.”

“And now you are here,” the oil executive’s guide said.

“It was not for the stories of hunting I wept,” the oil executive said, “It was not for the regal lions that I wept.  It was not for the enormous elephants I wept.  I didn’t weep for the zebra, clownish in its stripes, or for the giraffe, impossibly graceful and impossibly tall.  The ferocity of the rhino didn’t make me weep.  The slyness of the crocodile didn’t make me weep.  The subtle, submerged power of the hippopotamus didn’t make me weep.  Not even the leopard, so shy and so deadly, made me weep.”

“And still they are here,” the oil executive’s guide said.

“The harsh tan grasses of the Serengeti summoned no tears,” the oil executive said, “The spiny Acacias, slender and defiant, left my eyes as dry as the savanna sky.  No emotions flowed at the sight of a ruddy river, of a salt lake pink as sunset in its blanket of flamingos, of a fallen wildebeest open at the gut, dinner for jackals, hyenas and buzzards.  These summoned no overwhelming feelings.”

“And you have been among them coming here,” the oil executive’s guide said.

“I have seen the harpy eagle, the secretary bird, the bower bird and the kingfisher,” the oil executive said, “And never wept.  I have seen the termite, the ant, the scorpion and the dung beetle and merely cringed or laughed.”

“And they have remained at your feet,” the oil executive’s guide said.

“But nothing made me weep until this,” the oil executive said.

“Why do you weep now?” the oil executive’s guide asked.

“This,” the oil executive said, indicating the mountain top, “The glaciers, the snows of Kilimanjaro.  I have waited all my life to be among the snows at the peak of Kilimanjaro, here to stand upon the glaciers of Kilimanjaro.”

“And yet they are not here,” the oil executive’s guide said.

“They are gone,” the oil executive said, “Just as I knew they would be.  Just as science said they would be.  And still I hoped they would not be.”

“They are gone,” the oil executive’s guide said.

“They are gone,” the oil executive said, weeping.

The Parable of the Children and the Space Adventure

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ”Teacher, are we better off knowing the truth about Area 51 or were we happier believing the fantasy?”

Josh spoke thus:

Two children were watching a space adventure.

“There is no space,” one child told the other, “Space was made up to hide that the government was making spy planes.  The government made E.T. so people would think spy planes were E.T.”

“What about Star Wars” the second child asked, “They made that before E.T.”

“Star Wars was so we would believe E.T.,” the first child said, “And Star Trek was made because it was the Sixties.”

“New Star Trek or old Star Trek?” the second child asked.

“Old Star Trek,” the first child said, “New Star Trek came after.”

“Why did they make new Star Trek?” the second child asked.

“So they could make new Star Wars,” the first child said.

“What about Mars?” the second child asked, “I saw that there are robots on Mars.”

“Mars is real, like the moon,” the first child said, “There really are robots on Mars.  They don’t need E.T. anymore because everyone knows about the spy planes.  They’re declassified.”

“What’s declassified?” the second child asked.

“Declassified means it’s not made up,” the first child said.

“Like Area 51?” the second child asked, “Area 51 was declassified, wasn’t it?”

“Area 51 was made up,” the first child said, “When it was classified it was real.”

“So declassified means it’s made up?” the second child asked.

“If it’s real, declassified means it’s real,” the first child said, “If it’s made up declassified means it’s made up.”

“So classified means it’s made up if it’s real?” the second child asked.

“And classified means it’s real if it’s made up,” the first child said.

“Christmas is so much easier,” the second child said.

“How come?” the first child asked.

“Because is Santa classified or declassified?” the second child said, “And Baby Jesus.”

“Santa and Jesus aren’t classified or declassified,” the first child said.

“See?” the second child said, “Santa and Baby Jesus are simpler.”