Sometimes when I’m feeling blue, I sit on my ass and watch satellite TV. Even with a couple hundred channels, my choices sucked today. Two women were trying to sell me Quacker Factory T-shirts with icky little jewels on them on the shopping channels, and I’d seen all the Toddlers in Tiaras episodes during my last bout with the blahs. I stumbled upon Morgan Freeman’s Through the Wormhole on the Science Channel. I hung with Morgan and learned about black holes and whether they destroy matter completely as Steven Hawking said or if black holes reorganize matter (in a sickening, painful manner) and store it in their centers as Leonard Susskind said. I know string theory is beautiful and all, but I looked it up on “String Theory for Dummies.” When you take away all the big physics words that I don’t understand, string theory really is about a bunch of strings. Can you imagine writing the grant to fund all that?
The next hour of Through the Wormhole I watched involved dark matter, or the stuff in the universe that we can’t see. It looks as though dark matter holds the visible in place. I guess the whole dichotomy of light and dark is true—you can’t know one without understanding the other. Of course, my oversimplification of all of this reveals to the universe that I ran screaming from math and physics in high school and college, but I did watch What the Bleep Do We Know twice. My two hours with the uber cool and smart Morgan Freeman reminded me of something I already know. One can’t feel true joy without understanding sadness. Fulfillment remains elusive without boredom. String theory wouldn’t exist without strings. Sorry, that last one smacks of smart-assdom and reveals my extreme intellectual inferiority; even then, how can we have smart asses without dumb asses? In my little mommy world, how do we appreciate clean asses without disgusting ones?
By the way, I’m no longer blue.