The Wisdom of Terry Pratchett (Part V + VI)

Well, now that I’m a zombie survivor, I feel I have nothing to fear by giving ten to twenty minutes here to writing yet another entry devoted to Mr. Pratchett’s musings and ideas. Especially since I received an ‘anonymous’ note from someone — I’m sure I have no idea who it is whatsoever — and thus I must make sure this stranger is fulfilled. If I did not, well, I think I would regret it the way Brad Pitt regrets ‘Troy.’ OH! BURNED! That’s right, I burned BRAD PITT! Watcha gonna do now!? That’s right! NOTHING!

Cuz he’s rich and I’m poor, so I’m still the loser. EVEN DESPITE ‘TROY!’ IS THERE NO JUSTICE!?

Sorry about that. Dr. Pepper, what can I say? SPLENDIFEROUS! I often do say it and can! Can you!? TRY IT! GOOD FOR YOU!!

Sorry about that, too. But not THAT sorry.

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From “Carpe Jugulum”

There are many kinds of vampires. Indeed, it is said that there are as many kinds of vampires as there are types of diseases. Which presumably means that some are virulent and deadly, and others just make you walk in a funny way and avoid fruit.

When people were in serious trouble in Lancre, they went to a witch. Sometimes, of course, to say “please stop doing it.”

It struck people as odd that, while Lancre people refused point-blank to have any truck with democracy, on the basis that governing was what the king ought to do and they’d be sure to tell him if he went wrong, they didn’t make very good servants. Oh, they could cook and dig and wash and footle and buttle and did it very well but could never quite get the hang of the serving mentality. King Verence was quite understanding about this, and put up with Shawn ushering guests into the dining room with a cry of “Lovely grub, get it while it’s hot!”

It was obvious to King Verence that even if every adult were put under arms the kingdom of Lancre would still have a very small and insignificant army, and he’d therefore looked for other ways to put it on the military map. Shawn had come up with the idea of the Lancrastian Army Knife, containing a few essential tools and utensils for the soldier in the field, and research and development work had been going on for some months now. One reason for the slow progress was that the king himself was taking an active interest in the country’s only defense project, and Shawn was receiving little notes up to three times every day with further suggestions for improvement. Generally they were on the lines of: “A device, possibly quite small, for finding things that are lost,” or “A curiously shaped hook-like thing of many uses.” Shawn diplomatically added some of them but lost as many notes as he dared, lest he design the only pocket knife on wheels.

The leitmotif of the Guild of Barber-Surgeons: ‘shave and a haircut, no legs!’

Lancre people considered that anything religious that wasn’t said in some ancient and incomprehensible speech probably wasn’t the genuine article.

Lancre people had a fresh if somewhat sideways approach to names, generally just picking a sound they liked. Sometimes there was a logic to it, but only by accident. There’d be a Chlamydia Weaver toddling around today if her mother hadn’t suddenly decided that Sally was easier to spell.

King Verence was very keen that someone should compose a national anthem for Lancre, possibly referring to its very nice trees, and had offered a small reward. Nanny Ogg reasoned that it would be easy money because national anthems only ever have one verse, or, rather, all have the same second verse, which goes “nur…hnur…..mur….nur nur, hnur….nur…nur hnur” at some length until everyone remembers the last line of the first verse and sings it as loudly as they can.

The role of the lower intestine in the efforts to build a better nation is one that is often neglected by historians.

Igor had two thumbs on his right hand. If something was useful, he always said, you may as well add another.

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From ‘Eric’

Old Tom was the single cracked bronze bell in the University bell tower. The clapper dropped out shortly after it was cast, but the bell still tolled out some tremendously sonorous silences every hour.

The Bursar was referring obliquely to the difficult occasion when the University very nearly caused the end of the world, and would in fact have done so had it not been for a chain of events involving Rincewind, a magic carpet and a half-brick in a sock. The whole affair was very embarrassing to wizards, as it always is to people who find out afterwards that they were on the wrong side, and it was remarkable how many of the University’s senior staff were now adamant that at the time they had been off sick, visiting their aunt, or doing research with the door locked while humming loudly and had no idea of what was going on outside. There had been some desultory talk about putting up a statue to Rincewind but, by the curious alchemy that tends to apply in these sensitive issues, this quickly became a plaque, then a note on the Roll of Honour, and finally a motion of censure for being improperly dressed.

Demons and their Hell are quite different from the Dungeon Dimensions, those endless parallel wastelands outside space and time. the sad, mad Things in the Dungeon Dimensions have no understanding of the world but simply crave light and shape and try to warm themselves by the fires of reality, clustering around it with about the same effect — if they ever broke through — as an ocean trying to warm itself around a candle. Whereas demons belong to the same space-time wossname, more or less, as humans, and have a deep and abiding interest in humanity’s day-to-day affairs. Interestingly enough, the gods of the Disc have never bothered much about judging the souls of the dead, and so people only go to hell if that’s where they believe, in their deepest heart, that they deserve to go. Which they won’t do if they don’t know about it. This explains why it is important to shoot missionaries on sight.

Rincewind had been told that death was just like going into another room. The difference is, when you shout, “Where’s my clean socks?”, no one answers.

Many people think the first piece of matter should have been a hydrogen molecule, but this is against the observed facts. Everyone who has found a hitherto unknown egg-whisk jamming an innocent kitchen drawer knows that raw matter is continually flowing into the universe in fairly developed forms, popping into existence normally in ashtrays, vases and glove compartments. It chooses its shape to allay suspicion, and common manifestations are paperclips, the pins out of shirt packaging, the little keys for central heating radiators, marbles, bits of crayon, mysterious sections of herb-chopping devices and old Kate Bush albums. Why matter does this is unclear, but it is evident that matter has Plans. It is also apparent that creators sometimes favour the Big Bang method of universe construction, and at other times use the more gentle methods of Continuous Creation. This follows studies by cosmotherapists which have revealed that the violence of the Big Bang can give a universe serious psychological problems when it gets older.

And done!! Enjoy! </

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