These days I realized that for this blog, I had only conducted one interview, the one with Andrés López’s little bench. A Facebook message, on the other hand, caught my attention in this regard. Why hadn’t this category been continued? For the benefit of my readers, I decided to interview one of my professional advisors: Mr. Murphy (in person!).
It will be a surprise for many, since a being of such caliber and fame can only be compared to Nosferatu or Mephistopheles. Things seem to go wrong as soon as they are named; it’s like putting “Sympathy for the Devil” on your iPod just as you get into the building’s elevator (as if you want the firefighters to get you out of there after eight hours). But Murphy is for me, as we say here in Venezuela, “alto pana” (a great buddy); let me tell you how I met him.
A couple of years ago, when I was in some Valencian queue worthy of Dino DeLaurentis, I started to ramble a bit about Murphy’s philosophy. I tried to construct a formal axiological system based on the basic premise of this school of thought: “When something can go wrong, it will go wrong”. At this moment, apparently, things couldn’t get worse, as my immobility situation would have caused any GPS to automatically go into “suspend” mode. Thinking that I could pass the time reading something – anything – I searched the cabin for some high-level cultural material with which to enrich my intellect, but all I found was a crumpled real estate magazine from last month. I swallowed my pride and dedicated myself to reading a review about the current warehouse market in the industrial zone. I think reading horse racing statistics would have been incredibly less boring.
As soon as the first nervous impulses of typographic order reached my brain, they were abruptly interrupted by a honk emanating from a seventies-era Malibu located directly behind me. Without realizing it, the pickup truck in front of me had advanced a couple of meters in the queue. Shortening the distance in a few seconds, I prepared to resume reading, when almost instantly the honk was repeated. The queue had moved a little more.
I imagine something like this happened to Pavlov’s dog (no, it’s not some food cart on Hunger Street! Look it up!). The term surfaced in my advertising mind and I realized that two almost identical situations couldn’t happen consecutively as a product of chance (there had to be a pattern). To prove my point, I first made sure that the queue wasn’t moving a millimeter; then, I resumed reading for the third time. I almost expected what happened.
The queue moved again. My quasi-Neanderthal mind drew a somewhat… one-dimensional conclusion (not to say idiotic): Reading makes queues move. I had already proven it, but why? What was the intrinsic relationship between both events?
Several months passed and I had already refined my technique; I always had some kind of reading material in the car, from thick volumes of Schopenhauer’s philosophy to colorful special editions of Condorito. The moment I started reading, whoosh! Any queue would advance. And if by chance the queue didn’t move, then I had the opportunity to read a bit. It was then that I remembered my first internal philosophical-Murphyological dissertation and the light dawned in my head. Here’s the conclusion:
- “When something can go wrong, it will go wrong”
- “When two things can go wrong, they will go wrong in the order that causes the most damage”
Aha. Okay. So far we haven’t solved anything. But… what happens if the “two situations” refer to the same variable? Like the queue and reading. For the queue, you need to move. To read, you need to stay still. Get it? So:
- “When two things can go wrong, but both situations are opposite approaches to the same variable, then Murphy CANCELS OUT”
Easy. If Murphy slows down the queue so you don’t arrive on time, then you can read (benefit). If he doesn’t let you read (easing the traffic), then you arrive at your destination on time (benefit!). I felt very happy to have reached this conclusion… It was possible to trick Murphy! Between excited and nervous, I quickly searched for pencil and paper, not trusting my raw memory to retain such an important discovery for the benefit of humanity. This would be worthy of the Nobel Prize. Of a conference at the UN or MIT. Of a column in Ronda magazine!
Immersed in my laurel-like thoughts like the milkmaid in the fable, I didn’t notice the silhouette of a man quite advanced in years observing me from the other side of the passenger window. It only took me a fraction of a second to recognize him: It was Murphy in person! I felt like in the movie “Oh, God!”, where George Burns embodies the big guy himself. But this was real, real, real! It was the Lord of Malfunctioning in person! Obviously, the fact that the door was paranoidly locked meant nothing to him. He simply opened it, slowly sat down next to me, and then closed it (The lock never moved from its place).
I recognized Murphy because I had seen him before in an ’85 American magazine, in an interview about the Challenger. In his sixties today or forties then, for his appearance it makes no difference: disheveled and somewhat dirty gray beard, missing some teeth and hiding his Machiavellian metallic blue eyes behind glasses as round as they are black, a bit small for his head (For better references, refer to any ZZ Top promotional poster). At that moment he must have been heading to some company in the industrial zone, as he was dressed in an impeccable dark gray suit. Without waiting for any reaction from me (I was in a state of semi-shock from such an unusual invasion of my car), he spoke to me in a deep and raspy voice:
“What’s your problem, boy? What’s wrong with you? Don’t you see I’m trying to work here?”
Mr. Murphy!… excuse me, but… what exactly are you referring to?
“Don’t play dumb with me. You know what you’re trying to do, and I don’t like it one bit.”
Uhm? (dumb face included with the interjection)
“I see. I get it now. You think you’re smarter than me. But you should know that what you’re doing won’t bring you any benefit, because nobody will believe you. I’ll make sure of that myself.”
So, what’s the problem? I simply discovered that Murphic parameters can be mutually cancellable. Can’t people benefit from that?
“It would be as useful as the youngster who says a Lord’s Prayer after throwing rotten eggs at an old lady, just to create a ‘balance’. Such balance exists, but it’s beyond our pathetically linear human understanding. Perhaps it’s beyond the struggle between good and evil, as the devil and the boogeyman signed a cooperation agreement more than a quarter of a century ago to leave me alone to do my stuff.”
I didn’t quite understand what he was referring to, but if I had had an emergency button next to the brake (one of those that turn on a light at the back of the car to indicate that one has “a little problem”), I would have pushed it with my foot. But, surely, the light wouldn’t have turned on anyway.
“Let’s do something. You already know the secret (and I don’t mean the book with the wax seal). Just don’t burn it on a CD to sell it in Mañongo, don’t abuse my patience either…!”
Suddenly, turning indecisively to the right, he interrupted himself. It didn’t take long for him to continue:
“You’d better use this exit. The rest of the avenue is completely blocked.”
Having said this, he lowered the window to ask for passage from a van sporting the well-known motif “they’re dying of envy”. Apparently, the driver wasn’t very willing to be kind, but “by bad luck” the vehicle stalled, leaving me completely free passage. Murphy turned to me and said:
“See? One’s misfortune is another’s benefit. You can pass now.”
I felt like I was carrying an X-Men in the car. I imagine he has no need to dodge bullets as the firing pins jam. ATMs must give him extra money. I visualize him idly on a beach in Belize wearing a T-shirt with the motif of that Monopoly “Chance” card that reads “Bank error in your favor – collect $100…”
“Thanks for the ride, sometimes I get tired of walking in so much sun… Oh, by the way, didn’t you leave your reading glasses at home?”
He said goodbye with a wink and got out. He didn’t even give me time to contradict him, since I knew for certain that I had my glasses right in… in… where the hell did they go?
That’s how I met Murphy. A most interesting being. In the next Blog Post, you’ll have the exclusive interview!
