If you've ever worked on a car you know the way your hands look afterwards. Or even a bigger job working on a bike will give that effect. It's the kind of dirt that doesn't come off with a wash, you have to scrub the skin and ideally use some special detergent to get it all. This doesn't happen in one go, you have to scrub for at least 30 minutes, maybe more, to get your hands reasonably clean. There will still be dirt under your finger nails that won't come out, but you throw in the towel and consider it a job done well enough. Now this is a scenario that mechanics have to deal with everyday, it's part of the job.

But this is the same kind of scrubbing that surgeons do before surgery. Now, to draw a parallel here, I could understand that kind of meticulous scrubbing after a surgery. You've done the job, you have blood and tissue everywhere, that'll need a good scrubbing. Of course, you'd like your hands reasonably sterile before you put them into a patient. But here's the thing - surgeons wear gloves. Wouldn't it be enough to just wash the gloves? No wait, the gloves are sterile, they come right out of the box, they're used only once and then they go in the trash. So what's the deal?

To make matters worse for the surgeons, mechanics is actually a more precise science than surgery. You can replace a piston with a piston, a screw with a screw. And the whole vehicle comes apart just as it was put together, with no damage caused by opening it up. Surgeons are more like those people who drill for oil, they can't get in without drilling/blasting the outer surface and even then they're not really sure where they are exactly. And when they find the problem, the best they can do is carve out a sizable slice and dispose of it. In the process, they will probably do some minor damage in the area, cause it's a small space and it's hard to move around in there.

Ah tennis... Middle aged men in elegant, white cotton swinging wooden rackets on a court of red clay. And recently, women in all the more skimpy and flashy colorful dress. And then there's us, regular people with little clue about what we're doing, swinging the racket in all kinds of awkward ways.

The opening act was brutal. Despite playing on Monday and last week, I still often feel like I'm just doing this for the first time. Physically a complete flop. Surprisingly, it picked up after about 40 minutes. Yes, that was 40 minutes of unquestionable, solid suck. Twice fumbling the ball not out of bounds but over the tall wire fence. Oh those were moments to forget. Then, somehow, unprecedentedly, a page was turned. The wrist was getting a brutal beating, but the balls started falling somewhat more favorably. I was doing something right. It was moving ahead, enthusiasm surfaced, energy uncorked. For the next hour there were some ups and downs, but for long stretches of time, I was feeling it. It. The vibe, that says "this is how it's supposed to feel". I'm starting to make it work, starting to master the movement, the stroke, the aim. After three weeks of playing, finally, for the first time, I felt like this is coming together, this is going somewhere. The balance had shifted too, my opponent's bad knee was acting up, I was on the money, but holding back a bit. Otherwise I would have put the pedal to the metal to really find out where I stand. I haven't done that yet. I've played it quiet, trying to drill the basic skills, to get my house in order, lining up my troops at the border. But this is the place I need to be in to go all out. I may not be back here on Monday, form is so elusive. But I will be back. And I will keep coming back, gradually more frequently. I just need to stick with it and remember this feeling.

And yet it started out so sucky, so incredibly sucky. Who knew how it would play out. It's impossible to predict.

On a completely different note, I was validated today in traffic. My long standing conviction that traffic lights basically count for nothing was confirmed. I was coming up to a major intersection, there was a biker ahead of me waiting at the light. Seeing cars coming up to the lights on the left and stopping, I hit the brakes hard and stopped at the light. Then I look at it again, it's green. Well, if it's green... I start crossing, the traffic from the left has just started moving. I get some distressed drivers honking at me. I'm not supposed to be in their way. So why was the light green? What is the point of having traffic lights if they are misleading? To date the most dangerous situation in traffic I've been it. Pay attention to traffic, not traffic lights.

Compulsory liability disclaimer: This rule applies to bikers and pedestrians. Not to drivers. When I'm driving, I respect the lights. That's a whole different ball game.

A lot of people seem to think there is some kind of balance in the universe at all times. Balance between.. I don't really know what. But most people don't think in terms of mass and energy at least. One kind of balance is the attention parents have for their children. Infants get lots of attention. When you're an infant, parents watch your every move. Just as you're about to stick a fork into the power outlet, parents intervene and you're like "whatever, dude". It's hard to get a moment to yourself, and you're too young to say "do you mind?".

Then you grow up a little, you're no longer an infant (in fact you probably have a new infant in your house) and suddenly you're not so hot anymore. You're 4 and your parents aren't interested in what you do. You try to get their attention all the time, you climb up a tall tree and you want them to come out and watch and they're like "whatever, dude".

It is the way of the world.

How many times have you turned on CNN only to see American flags being burnt on the streets somewhere? What always makes me wonder is.. where do they get these flags?? Are there flag stores on every corner in these cities? Is someone getting rich selling flags? Is there a flag millionaire mansion somewhere? Or are they home made? Would someone really labor over a flag for weeks, cutting the fabric, measuring, sewing (if you've ever sewn anything, you know how much work it is) only to set it on fire? Even making a big banner is less work than sewing a flag. All you need is some big chunk of paper and a magic marker. But a flag requires fabric in every color of the flag, it requires careful measurement, it requires a sewing machine (otherwise it *really* takes ages to assemble).

But either way it's such a huge waste. If you buy the flag and burn it, that's just like fireworks, a complete waste of money for a moment of fun. And if you produce it yourself, well that's even worse. Hours of labor wasted in a few seconds. The whole idea is lost on me.

Tell me if you've been in this situation. You're with a group of people and this one person has taken upon him/herself to "entertain" the group. For some reason or another, it's usually guys who do this. So while a conversation is in progress, this guy keeps shooting in with really bad jokes. And I mean bad, they're obvious, they're stupid, you see the punch line a mile away and you just wish you could excuse yourself, which you can't, or zap the guy into a pile of dust, preferably. So the guy is telling these jokes, and some people are laughing, but not everyone is. You're not laughing, because you're appalled with what can pass for a joke with this guy. So the guy notices this and he says to you, in front of the group, "hey lighten up, have a sense of humor". Have you had this happened to you? Of course, everyone has.

But what does it mean to tell a bad joke? When I say bad, I realize it can mean more than one thing. A bad joke can be one you don't laugh at, because it's too obvious. Or you don't laugh, because you don't like making fun of whatever is the butt of the joke. Or some other reason. In this case, I'm sticking with the first definition. So the joke is too obvious. Now, if you'll indulge me for a minute, the following metaphor I borrow from one Jerry Seinfeld. A joke is a canyon between two cliffs. If you get the joke, you jump across the canyon, onto the other side. If you don't get the joke, you don't make it to the other side. The satisfaction from making it, is the laugh. Now, if the cliffs are too far apart, you won't make it, it's too far away. If they are too close, you make it, but it was easy, so there's no satisfaction from making the leap. So in other words, the object of a comedian is to set the cliffs far enough apart so that the leap will be big, but not too far apart, so that the audience can still make the leap.

But let's get back to telling bad jokes. What is a bad joke really? No, what is a joke really? A joke is a sequence of statements which are logically coherent with each other. If A, then B. If B, then C. And finally, at the end of this chain, there is a contradiction. Something which doesn't add up with everything that has been told up to this point. And that is the punch line. Why is this funny? I've no idea, but this is the anatomy of a joke. Now, the degree to which a joke is funny, is the lack of coherence between the punch line and the story the precedes it. If you can see that the punch line contradicts the story, then it is funny. If you do not see the contradiction, it means you don't get the joke. Once again, a bad joke is one where the contradiction between the story and the punch line is obvious.

So, a joke is a test (yes, a test!) of reasoning ability to see whether you can see the contradiction. You pass the test, then you laugh (or you don't laugh because it was too obvious). Now, a bad joke is simply a test which is too easy. So what does it mean when you tell a joke, what does it say about you? It says that you are giving this test to me, and you expect me to pass it. You would like me to pass it, with some effort, so that I will laugh at the joke. Now, if you make this test too easy, it basically means that you believe this easy test will not be trivial to me. It means that by giving me this easy test, you expect me to struggle a bit.

So let's say that the test is easy, the contradiction in the joke is obvious. How can I interpret this? Well, there are two obvious ways. 1) You think this joke is clever, and you think I will appreciate that. 2) You realize this joke is obvious, but you still think it won't be obvious to me. In the first instance, it doesn't make you look good, it makes you look a little stupid. In the second case, it's an insult to me, to think that I wouldn't find this obvious.

So there it is, telling a bad joke is one of two things. Exposing your lack of intellectual ability (and ambition). Or just being patronizing.