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Zen and the Art of the Impossible

The Prime Minister and the General sit taking tea in 24 Sussex Drive. After due attention to the creation of the beverage has been paid, the General asks, “Prime Minister, what is the definition of victory in our current war?”

“The definition of victory?” the Prime Minister ponders, the merest pursing of his lips suggesting that such an obvious question is beneath him. “Surely, you know that the definition of victory is not losing.”

“That truth is self-evident,” the General agrees. A few seconds and several sips of tea later, the General continues: “However, that being the case, what is the definition of not losing?”

The Prime Minister nods his head. He had not realized until this very moment just how obtuse this General was. However, it is with equanimity that he replies: “The definition of not losing is: victory.”

“Yes. Right. Your position is inarguable,” the General responds. He had not realized until this very moment how obtuse this Prime Minister was. “Still, such a general argument does not help me in the specific case. So, I must ask again: what is the definition of victory in our current war?”

“Strawberry marmalade,” the Prime Minister sagely tells him.

* * *

“The people have spoken!” the Tea Party candidate exults. “They want less government, smaller government. Government cannot do anything right, so they want government to get out of the way and let the private sector do its job!”

“But,” the journalist cavils, “polls show that the people want Medicare.”

“True,” the candidate allows.

“The polls also show that the people want Social Security,” the journalist points out.

“They certainly do,” the candidate agrees.

“And, people always want roads on which they can safely drive,” the journalist adds.

“That has been a longstanding truth, universally acknowledged,” the candidate acknowledges.

“Given all of this,” the journalist asks, “I have to wonder: which people, exactly, want less government?”

“Which people,” the candidate sagely responds, “make up your audience?”

* * *

The leader of the opposition asks, “If crime is going down, why are you planning to build more prisons?”

“Crime,” the Prime Minister replies with equanimity, “is in the eye of the beholder.”

The leader of the opposition, not wishing to appear ignorant, mulls this over for several seconds. In the end, though, he is defeated by his lack of understanding, and must ask, “What the hell does that mean?”

“That,” the Prime Minister attempts to enlighten him, “means mandatory minimum sentences, longer sentences and tougher conditions for parole.”

The leader of the opposition shakes his head to clear it of the fog of ununderstanding. Not being successful, he continues: “But, Prime Minister, decades of research show that punitive measures do not make people safer. Why would you advocate such measures at a time when crime rates are falling?”

The Prime Minister thinks for a moment. “One must take into consideration the unreported crime,” he responds.

“The unreported crime?” the leader of the opposition echoes.

“Indeed.”

“But, Prime Minister,” the leader of the opposition of continues, “how does one measure crime that is not reported?”

The Prime Minister smiles. “With the Statistics Canada of the heart,” he sagely replies.

* * *

“How is it possible,” the president asks his most trusted military adviser, “to gain victory in a war already lost?”

“The military pixies,” the military adviser responds.

“Military pixies?” the president dubiously repeats.

“Yes, Mister President,” the military adviser explains. “If you sacrifice enough blood and treasure to them, the military pixies will descend to the battlefield and turn the tide in your favour.”

The president frowns. “Have the military pixies ever won a battle for us that was thought lost?”

“No, Mister President,” the military adviser admits. “But, that is because we have not stayed with a losing war long enough, we have not shown the military pixies that we have faith in them, we have not believed.”

“Have military pixies ever been seen on a battlefield?”

“Not to my knowledge,” the military adviser allows. “We are an unbelieving country.”

“What happens if we extend the war so long that we run out of treasure, or our people no longer have a taste for blood?”

“Then,” the military adviser sagely advises, “the military pixies will surely guide us to victory!”

Subtle are the ways and hard-won the wisdom of the art of the impossible!

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