How an intended genius became an accidental terrorist

I’ll tell you how I become a genius. I try to do it six days a week. (The seventh is the Sabbath, when I don’t have to try.) It’s not always easy, this genius business. And dangers lie in wait. Here are the steps that I follow.

 

Firstly, obtain ‘The Australian’ newspaper. Do not read it unless you want to cry. Turn to the last page of the first section*; here you’ll see the weather map for the entire continent. Below the weather you’ll find the puzzles. Avoid the Sudoku, dodge the cryptic crossword, take a quick peek at the day’s three obscure words (today’s** three are POIKILOTHERMIC, RIEM, KNARRED. I told you they were obscure. Pat yourself on the back if you know any of them. I scored one pat today. Better than average.)

Shun the Mensa puzzle. I hate people showing that they know they are smarter than I am.)

Pass now to the foot of the page. There you’ll see a wordwheel, with one letter in the centre and an additional eight or ten letters disposed in a circle at the perimeter. Our tasks are to find a single word that incorporates all the letters and none others, no repetitions etc etc; and to create as many words as possible of four letters or more.

Next to the wordwheel we find the rankings. Yesterday you’d have seen:

GOOD 23 words

VERY GOOD 28

EXCELLENT 33

GENIUS 38

I try to become a genius before bedtime. As a result some nights I need to go to bed very late.

Yesterday’s letters were INATTENTIVE. I got ‘inattentive’ like a shot. Practice makes that easy. But it was not until 22 hours had passed that I became a genius. (Incidentally, it is pretty clear the designer of the rankings is no genius: if one achieves EXCELLENT, that means she excels; none can excel her. But the genius does. What, I wonder, is the designation for one who finds fewer words than 23. “NOT GOOD”?)

 

So this is my method. I write down as many words as I can. ‘Attentive’ will be the first. Once I run out of words I start to speculate. Would ‘entant’ be a word? I know ‘extant’; perhaps ‘entant’ will be its antonym. I Google ‘entant’ and learn it’s a ridgy-didge word – in French. Spellcheck – or some other pretentious word authority lurking deep in my phone – now diverts me to ‘entertain’, ‘entente’ and other words of no relevance.

 

I juggle the letters and test other likely or less likely agglomerations for validity. And it is here that Google brings me to the attention of the AUSTRALIAN FEDERAL POLICE, ASIO, THE AUSTRALIAN BORDER FORCE and others. A red flag flies up on a screen in Langley. At Mi6 a man in an expensive grey suit flicks off a message through the dark net. Moments afterward a young woman snoozing before her screen in Canberra is aroused by a nasty chiming sound. Twenty minutes later large men in dark clothing emerge from a large vehicle. They wear bullet-proof vests and they carry semi-automatic weapons. Silently they surround my house. One carries a sledge hammer with which he knocks and they enter. There they find their enemy, an old wordnerd gazing at a screen, writing words on paper. The word he has written is ‘tannite’. ‘Aha!’ – they cry. ‘ Gotcha!’ 

 

* In the ‘Weekend Australian’ search the last page/s of Review.

 

** Today is the day of my writing, not of your reading. I write today, February 19, 2016.

 

A Guest of Clive

When I mentioned to a friend I’d be attending a medical conference at the Palmer Coolum Resort, she said, “You can’t possibly be supporting that man.” I never chose the location of the conference but I looked forward to returning to the pleasant place where I had attended previous events. If staying at Palmer’s resort constituted support, clearly I could support him; but apparently I should not. Everyone I spoke to had a clear opinion: Clive was a selfish man, he was immature, he was a menace to democracy.
I realised I was lacking in conviction on the Clive Issue and this lack was at best surprising and probably deplorable.

We drove in to the resort. Green expanses of the famed golf course pleased the eye. A plastic dinosaur assaulted the finer senses. Sweeping around a bend we arrived to stillness. The resort was a human desert.

At the desk the embarrassed receptionist said, no, I could not have The Australian delivered to my door. Nor, she volunteered, could I have any paper other than the Sunshine Coast daily. Surprised, I stood for a moment. After allowing the penny to drop I grinned, made a remark recruiting the receptionist, inviting her to lower her guard, to confess something of herself.
In the silence she blushed. After a time she wished us a pleasant stay as if she really meant it. As if she were making amends.

In the course of the weekend we did have a pleasant time. Among the conference people we enjoyed free and vigorous intercourse. With our hosts we enjoyed warm but guarded dialogue that lacked the thrust and mutuality of intercourse.

Visiting Cuba in 1999 we were the guests of another large figure. Fidel permitted us to read his local daily, “Grandma”. No other newspapers were available. Throughout the country we found our hosts warm but reticent. The dinosaurs we found were motor vehicles from the 1950’s that exhaled black smoke. In a free exchange of toxins the locals smiled as prevailing winds deposited their pollutants on Miami.

In another free exchange four hundred workers have been released from the Coolum Resort to join Mr Abbott’s jobsearchers. Where forty bellstaff used to work, there remain three. Those three work hard, smile a lot and sew their lips.

Down in the village of Coolum Beach you can buy the ‘free’ press. I purchased The Australian, whose first headline you may see below. I searched the paper in vain for any comment – The Australian is not shy to comment – offering a broader view of Clive. Plenty of thrust but no mutuality.

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