It's a kind of magic

So, I’ve just spent far too long reading an argument on a message board about whether magic exists or not; someone claimed it as the basis of their belief system, and was quickly denounced as mentally unstable by someone else. And then the fights broke out. It was like one of those old Western films, where the hero cowboy asks the bad cowboy something, and then there’s banter that drips of “Oh, don’t say THAT...” before chairs get thrown. All very watchable, the carcrash principle in action.

But still. Magic.

For my part, I believe in magic. I’ve had unusual things happen to and around me that I can’t really find any rational explanation for, so I’m perfectly happy to write it off to “things I’ll never understand” and move on; it seems like common sense to me to accept that we don’t know everything (Why do birds suddenly appear everytime you are near, for example? Why do fools fall in love? Who let the dogs out?), and I’ve no problem with that being called “magic” by anyone. It’s a scenario that anyone who grew up reading bad science fiction is more than familiar with; if you brought someone from a couple of centuries ago to the year 2000, they’d be surrounded by all these things they’d find impossible: aeroplanes, or CDs, or mobile phones. And if “Star Trek” is to be believed, their reactions to any of these things would be to cower in terror and shout “Witchcraft!” in unconvincing accents usually of English decent (And suddenly I want to see one of the shows where some Edwardian fellow is timetravelled to now, and shouts “Witchcraft” when someone puts a Frank Sinatra CD on, only for someone to reply, “No, it’s ‘Fly Me To The Moon’, ‘Witchcraft’’s the next track...” But I digress). But all these things are just everyday science for us. So it is with all these other “magical” phenomena; give it long enough, and men and women in white coats will discover new facts and juggle new numbers and take away the mystery and fun of everything. “Magic” will just be mundane fact, and all the naysayers will be happy.

For now, though, let’s break out the Ouija board and spend hours asking if there’s anybody there. If nothing else, it kills time, right?

***

So, now that the first UK winner of “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire” has finally appeared, I’m now surrounded by the annoying whines of far too many people going “That one million pound question was EASY! I could’ve won that, easy. I wouldn’t even have paused, like she did,” missing the point that they couldn’t even answer the traditional-pathetically-easy questions that start off: “What does NASA stand for? Naughty Animals Seek Assistance? Nineteen Alcoholic Scary Assholes? Never Ask Scots Anything?” or whatever the real answer is (National something Society of America? God, I’m dumb), as it normally goes. Me, I’d do fine up until I started to realise I was on TV, and then my tongue would swell up and I’d forget how to think. That said, if it’s a pop question, I’ll be anyone’s phone a friend person. I’m King Pop, me.

***

And in 2 DAYS, the best magic in the world results in me meeting she. Because I know you’re all really that bothered.

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Copyright © Grim, 2002