I missed most of the recent World Cup action. My local coverage was a naked video feed, with no voice over at all, and no screen graphics, no time record, no score, no nothing. Nothing but those God damned booboozellas. So it was tough to watch, unless maybe you were totally committed and stared at the screen for the whole two hours. What can you do? Maybe next time.
I did hear all about Paul though, Paul the cephalopod genius, the most successful eight-legged fortune teller of all time, the Jimmie-the-Greek of octopi. Paul was given eight chances to pick the winner of upcoming games, and he picked the winner eight out of eight times, a perfect score.
As my friends and constant readers know, I am fascinated with the tension between coincidence and cause-and-effect. Boy, you get close enough to this eternal conflict and it can really make your head spin! Like when a stupid creature with zero knowledge of soccer, or even of humanity for that matter, picks eight winners in a row. Could it be coincidence? Well, could it be anything else?
But what a magnificent coincidence. The coincidence of the year!