Okay, Hand, my older (by a few measly minutes) identical twin brother. You’ve successfully pulled me away from an afternoon of lovemaking with my latest paramour. What’s so important?
Well, you know how when anything needs to be done, you leave me to do it?
But of course! You’re so much better than me at doing the boring stuff. You know what they say: boring is as boring does. So, I’m happy to leave it all in your tedious hands. Can I go now? I hate to think what Trixie is getting up to in my bedroom alone.
Hyle, I’m afraid I need your ability to think outside the box.
Yeah, it’s true. I ain’t no box thinker, that’s for sure. Fortunately, since you and I inherited those billions of dollars a couple of years ago, I haven’t had to think much at all! In or out of the box. Don’t tell me you’re now proposing to rain on my parade.
It’s the George matter.
George? George who?
What do you mean “George who?”
He of the matter?
George Albert Brown?
Name doesn’t ring a bell.
The literary writer who ended up stuck between us on a flight two years agon, not long after we became aware of our mystery couple-of-billion-dollar inheritance?
I remember the inheritance, but not the flight.
We had an entire conversation with George about Nietzsche, theology, metaphysics, and poetry?
No, definitely not ringing a bell.
He told us about his exceptionally short cousin who wanted to be a brain surgeon but decided that being a podiatrist was more within his grasp.
Oh, that George Albert Brown! I love that guy! He’s hilarious!
Needless to say, it’s the inappropriate joke that you remember.
Hey, gimme a break. Two years is long time. Especially when in the interim you’ve been completely wasted.
You remember that we hired George to find out the story behind our inheritance, a story which had been kept from us since 1977 by our now-deceased relatives?
Yeah. I do.
And what George uncovered was so interesting that we then hired him to turn his research into a mystery novel?
Right. And we promised him that once it was written, we would fund someone to publish it and then someone else to promote it. I remember. So, how’s that going? Has George started writing it yet?
Started? He’s finished and the book has just been published by Galbraith Literary Publishers, under the title, Who Killed Jerusalem? A budding cult classic combining the literary, the philosophical, the poetic, and the raucously humorous with an intricate mystery story.
How’s it doing?
Being radically cross genre, it’s dramatically splitting the reviewers. People seem to either love it or hate it.
Really? Do you have a copy? I better read it to see what it says about me.
Oh, please, Hyle. You and I were only eight years old at the time the book takes place. Accordingly, we’ve got only one brief, non-speaking appearance before being ushered off to the rec room to play ping pong. Quit trying to make everything all about you.
All about me? When have I ever made everything all about me?
What about that TV series pilot you made, “The Emperor of the Universe”? About a toga-wearing, ne’er-do-well obsessed with wine, women, song, and dope, sitting around waiting to be called into service by the world? You’re saying that wasn’t based on you?
Certainly not. What could possibly give you that idea?
How about your harebrained rap band, “Hyle’s Heavenly Host”, consisting of you and similarly embarrassingly uncoordinated, middle-aged white guys, the latter jabbing their index fingers at you, while singing lustily, “Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty”?
I can’t help it if the hired help gets carried away in their adoration. As for your “uncoordinated” accusation, I can tell you from personal experience that snapping one’s fingers in time to the music ain’t as easy as it looks.
Okay, what about the reason you gave me for agreeing to our funding George and his book?
You mean to popularize Ickey Jerusalem’s metaphysics so I could use it to create a new world religion with me as the Messiah?
I rest my case.
That Messiah stuff was Granny’s dream for me, not mine. I totally did that for her. Besides, I felt that for a change I should try to pursue an achievable goal. And anyway, Hand, you should talk. What about your reason for funding the book?
What’s wrong with wanting to provide a cautionary tale about what happens when one gives up reason, logic, order, duty, attention to detail, hard work, conventionality, and making a permanent contribution to humanity?
Making a permanent contribution to humanity? You mean, spending your adult life laboring away fruitlessly in your dinky lab at the junior college trying to find a mechanism for stopping aging? Not much to write home about there.
At least I’m trying.
Oh, you’re trying alright. Very trying. Re-ironing your shirts from the cleaners to get rid of creases caused by the folding? Producing a detailed spreadsheet each morning outlining what you would be doing every five minutes of the day, including taking a dump? Filing away instantly into a back room full of office filing cabinets anything that lands on your polished, totally empty desktop? Wearing the identical clothes every day and eating the exact same thing for every meal. Does the term “Obsessive Compulsive Disease” come to mind?
“Self-control” is what comes to my mind. Something you, Hyle, totally lack.
Okay, okay. Rehashing as usual our eternal Apollonian versus Dionysian world views ain’t going to get me back to Trixie anytime soon. So, what outside-the-box advice do need from me?
Do you remember when we promised George that once he wrote the book, we would put money into promoting it? And I suggested that we should hire a publicist to spend tons of money in normal book promotions—ads, reviews, social media, coverage by literary magazines and influencers, etc? You said that since the book market was so vast, we needed to also do something radical to get the book known, something not usually associated with literary books. A massive prize draw is what you suggested.
Yeah, I remember my great contribution.
Well, after the launch of the book, I set up a prize draw with monthly $1,000 prizes until September 6th, when two grand prizes will be awarded: one for the literary types, an all-expenses paid, luxury weekend in San Francisco involving a literary tour conducted by a San Francisco poet laureate and dinner with the author at the city’s oldest restaurant; and another for the more materialistic readers, $25,000 in cash.
So, how’s that working?
Phenomenally well as far as signups, but the prize draw ends on September 6, so we need something to replace it.
Hmmm. How about this for an idea? Though you and I don’t agree on much, both of us do like solving and designing puzzles.
With entirely different approaches, though. Mine, Apollonian, logical, and linear; yours, Dionysian, thematic, and intuitive.
Yeah, mine, creative and thrilling; yours, rulebound and boring. Fitting well our respective personalities. Me, the lover of life, you, the tight-assed dick.
No need to get personal.
I agree. No matter how our differences are described, what we need to do is put them to work. Thus, when the prize draw ends, I suggest we replace it with an online treasure hunt in which to find the treasure on a map, entrants have to solve a series of puzzles created by me and by you.
Great idea. With the puzzles written in our different styles.
To give more people a chance to win, we’ll have a lot of prizes. $25,000 for whomever finds the treasure first, and then after that, $5,000, $4,000, $3,000, $2,000, and six $1,000 prizes as the respective entrants find the treasure.
And to promote the book, we call the contest the “Who Killed Jerusalem? Treasure Hunt.”
Better than that, each puzzle will start by referring the entrant to a clue at a specific point in the book. So, we’re not only advertising the book, we are effectively requiring people to buy it to play. Given that the eBook, at least, will cost only $9.99, it’s fairly cheap to enter. And hopefully many players will read the book and tell their friends to read it.
Definitely outside the box.
To help advertise the treasure hunt, we’ll have weekly puzzle draws from September 6th to the main treasure hunt a couple of months later. Looking at the calendar on your wall, I’d say Saturday, November 11th, for the treasure hunt. There’ll be one puzzle presented each week, and those who solve it will be entered into a weekly prize draw for $50. More importantly, if they go on to the treasure hunt and win one of the eleven prizes, their name will be entered into a prize draw for an additional $5,000 winner’s prize. To increase their odds of winning the $5,000, they will not only be given one entry for each weekly puzzle they solve, but also for each post on social media they make to their friends promoting the weekly puzzle draw.
Brilliant.
Finally, to top it off, we’ll give each of the winners of the treasure hunt itself a Dionysian vs Apollonian personality test and find out, once and for all, which of our approaches is best.
Amazing.
I know. Now I’ll leave it up to you to make it work. Let me know when you want me to set some puzzles. In the meantime, I’m out of here. Trixie, here I come!
Christ. Left holding the shitbag again.
Okay, Hand my older (by a few measly minutes), identical twin brother. You’ve successfully pulled me away from an afternoon of lovemaking with my latest paramour. What’s so important?
Well, you know how when anything needs to be done, you leave me to do it?
But of course! You’re so much better than me at doing the boring stuff. You know what they say: boring is as boring does. So, I’m happy to leave it all in your tedious hands. Can I go now? I hate to think what Trixie is getting up to in my bedroom alone.
Hyle, I’m afraid I need your ability to think outside the box.
Yeah, it’s true. I ain’t no box thinker, that’s for sure. Fortunately, since you and I inherited those billions of dollars a couple of years ago, I haven’t had to think much at all! In or out of the box. Don’t tell me you’re now proposing to rain on my parade.
It’s the George matter.
George? George who?
What do you mean “George who?”
He of the matter?
George Albert Brown?
Name doesn’t ring a bell.
The literary writer who ended up stuck between us on a flight two years ago, not long after we became aware of our mystery couple-of-billion-dollar inheritance?
I remember the inheritance, but not the flight.
We had an entire conversation with George about Nietzsche, theology, metaphysics, and poetry?
No, definitely not ringing a bell.
He told us about his exceptionally short cousin who wanted to be a brain surgeon but decided that being a podiatrist was more within his grasp.
Oh, that George Albert Brown! I love that guy! He’s hilarious!
Of course, it’s the inappropriate joke that you remember.
Hey, gimme a break. Two years is long time. Especially when in the interim you’ve been completely wasted.
You remember that we hired George to find out the story behind our inheritance, a story which had been kept from us since 1977 by our now-deceased relatives?
Yeah. I do.
And what George uncovered was so interesting that we then hired him to turn his research into a mystery novel?
Right. And we promised him that once it was written, we would fund someone to publish it and then someone else to promote it. I remember. So, how’s that going? Has George started writing it yet?
Started? He’s finished and the book has just been published by Galbraith Literary Publishers, under the title, Who Killed Jerusalem? A budding cult classic combining the literary, the philosophical, the poetic, and the raucously humorous with an intricate mystery story.
How’s it doing?
Being radically cross genre, it’s dramatically splitting the reviewers. People seem to either love it or hate it.
Really? Do you have a copy? I better read it to see what it says about me.
Oh, please, Hyle. You and I were only eight years old at the time the book takes place. Accordingly, we’ve got only one brief, non-speaking appearance before being ushered off to the rec room to play ping pong. Quit trying to make everything all about you.
All about me? When have I ever made everything all about me?
What about that TV series pilot you made, “The Emperor of the Universe”? About a toga-wearing, ne’er-do-well obsessed with wine, women, song, and dope, sitting around waiting to be called into service by the world? You’re saying that wasn’t based on you?
Certainly not. What could possibly give you that idea?
How about your harebrained rap band, “Hyle’s Heavenly Host”, consisting of you and similarly embarrassingly uncoordinated, middle-aged white guys, the latter jabbing their index fingers at you, while singing lustily, “Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty”?
I can’t help it if the hired help gets carried away in their adoration. As for your “uncoordinated” accusation, I can tell you from personal experience that snapping one’s fingers in time to the music ain’t as easy as it looks.
Okay, what about the reason you gave me for agreeing to our funding George and his book?
You mean to popularize Ickey Jerusalem’s metaphysics so I could use it to create a new world religion with me as the Messiah?
I rest my case.
That Messiah stuff was Granny’s dream for me, not mine. I totally did that for her. Besides, I felt that for a change I should try to pursue an achievable goal. And anyway, Hand, you should talk. What about your reason for funding the book?
What’s wrong with wanting to provide a cautionary tale about what happens when one gives up reason, logic, order, duty, attention to detail, hard work, conventionality, and making a permanent contribution to humanity?
Making a permanent contribution to humanity? You mean, spending your adult life laboring away fruitlessly in your dinky lab at the junior college trying to find a mechanism for stopping aging? Not much to write home about there.
At least I’m trying.
Oh you’re trying alright. Very trying. Re-ironing your shirts from the cleaners to get rid of creases caused by the folding? Producing a detailed spreadsheet each morning outlining what you would be doing every five minutes of the day, including taking a dump? Filing away instantly into a back room full of office filing cabinets anything that lands on your polished, totally empty desktop? Wearing the identical clothes everyday and eating the exact same thing for every meal. Does the term “Obsessive Compulsive Disease” come to mind?
“Self-control” is what comes to my mind. Something you, Hyle, totally lack.
Okay, okay. Rehashing as usual our eternal Apollonian versus Dionysian world views ain’t going to get me back to Trixie anytime soon. So, what outside-the-box advice do need from me?
Do you remember when we promised George that once he wrote the book, we would put money into promoting it? And I suggested that we should hire a publicist to spend tons of money on normal book promotions—ads, reviews, social media, coverage by literary magazines and influencers, etc? You said that since the book market was so vast, we needed to also do something radical to get the book known, something not usually associated with literary books. A massive prize draw is what you suggested.
Yeah, I remember my great contribution.
Well, after the launch of the book, I set up a prize draw with monthly $1,000 prizes until September 6th, when two grand prizes will be awarded: one for the literary types, an all-expenses paid, luxury weekend in San Francisco involving a literary tour conducted by a San Francisco poet laureate and dinner with the author at the city’s oldest restaurant; and another for the more materialistic readers, $25,000 in cash.
So, how’s that working?
Phenomenally well as far as signups, but the prize draw ends on September 6th, so we need something to replace it.
Hmmm. How about this for an idea? Though you and I don’t agree on much, both of us do like solving and designing puzzles.
With entirely different approaches, though. Mine, Apollonian, logical, and linear; yours, Dionysian, thematic, and intuitive.
Yeah, mine, creative and thrilling; yours, rulebound and boring. Fitting well our respective personalities. Me, the lover of life, you, the tight-assed dick.
No need to get personal.
I agree. No matter how our differences are described, what we need to do is put them to work. Thus, when the prize draw ends, I suggest we replace it with an online treasure hunt in which to find the treasure on a map, entrants have to solve a series of puzzles created by me and by you.
Great idea. With the puzzles written in our different styles.
To give more people a chance to win, we’ll have a lot of prizes. $25,000 for whomever finds the treasure first, and then after that, $5,000, $4,000, $3,000, $2,000, and six $1,000 prizes as the respective entrants find the treasure.
And to promote the book, we call the contest the “Who Killed Jerusalem? Treasure Hunt.”
Better than that, each puzzle will start by referring the entrant to a clue at a specific point in the book. So, we’re not only advertising the book, we are effectively requiring people to buy it to play. Given that the eBook, at least, will cost only $9.99, it’s fairly cheap to enter. And hopefully many players will read the book and tell their friends to read it.
Definitely outside the box.
To help advertise the treasure hunt, we’ll have weekly puzzle draws from September 6th to the main treasure hunt a couple of months later. Looking at the calendar on your wall, I’d say Saturday, November 11th, for the treasure hunt. There’ll be one puzzle presented each week, and those who solve it will be entered into a weekly prize draw for $50. More importantly, if they go on to the treasure hunt and win one of the eleven prizes, their name will be entered into a prize draw for an additional $5,000 winner’s prize. To increase their odds of winning the $5,000, they will not only be given one entry for each weekly puzzle they solve, but also for each post on social media they make to their friends promoting the weekly puzzle draw.
Brilliant.
Finally, to top it off, we’ll give each of the winners of the treasure hunt itself a Dionysian vs Apollonian personality test and find out, once and for all, which of our approaches is best.
Amazing.
I know. Now I’ll leave it up to you to make it work. Let me know when you want me to set some puzzles. In the meantime, I’m out of here. Trixie, here I come!
Christ. Left holding the shitbag again.