Waterskiing, Zen And The Art Of

How To Throw Yourself At A Lake, And Miss

by Gregory C. Wait, aka Xang Woopy 101010 (zooey@ipass.net)
written 20 Jun 1995

This article is classified "Fictional"


The universe is a really, mind-bogglingly huge place.  Much of it is made up
of vast tracts of space, and most of it is empty.  It is therefor surprising
to learn how much of it is water.  Water exists in one form or another in
almost every system in the Galaxy.  One exception to this is the planet
Flimwiggle, where a fairly short-sited ruler outlawed all fluids of any
kind, complaining that he didn't like their attitude.

The Flimwiggians, being a somewhat dim-witted, but tremendously loyal and
industrious people set out to do their leader's bidding.  They pumped water
into huge, fortified bunkers miles beneath the surface of Flimwiggle,
destroying the drilling equipment afterwards.  They filled huge tanker-ships
with the stuff, firing them into Flimwiggle's mauvy sun.  They even filled
byros with water, then left them lying around in the bottoms of drawers
until they disappeared, as byros do.  And when the last droplet of moisture
had been dutifully sponged off the surface of their once lush, green
planet, the dim-witted, but tremendously loyal and industrious Flimwiggians
died of dehydration, every last dim-witted, but tremendously loyal and 
industrious one of them.

And so they never learned to waterski.

Waterskiing, even by Galactic terms, is one of the more unusual things one
can do when presented with a sufficiently large and flat body of water, and
there are so many other things one could do.  Many beings drink the stuff,
some live in it, and a surprisingly small number bathe in it.  Fewer still
look at the calm surface of a lake, river, ocean, or bathtub and think,
"I'll just strap a couple of boards to my feet and skid across the surface
at tremendous speed."  So few, in fact, that when compared with the
population of the Universe as a whole, the number of beings who do anything
remotely resembling waterskiing approaches zero, quietly, from the left.

Waterskiing originated not on Earth, as many believe, but was invented by a
plank-like race called the Frajoom, for whom it was less a recreational
activity than a religious experience.  The Frajoom believe that their God
lives within a nearby black hole, and strap bipedal beings to their backs in
sacrifice as they race across the surface of the hole's event horizon,
presumably into the waiting arms of their creator.  Unfortunately, due to
the immense gravitational forces they experience there, the Frajoomy
pilgrims are then crushed into tiny screaming nothings by the loving arms of
their God.  It is interesting to note that while a much larger number of
people survive the experience of waterskiing on Earth, they seem to scream
almost as much.

Another common misconception about waterskiing is that you need a boat.
While a boat can come in handy for transporting such things as gear, food,
and witnesses, it is not actually necessary in the way that most people
think.  Much like flying, waterskiing comes down to a simple matter of
misdirecting ones attention away from the fact that you are doing
something, if not impossible, then at least very improbable.  Lacking an 
improbability generator, the only way to do this is to not notice that you 
are doing it.  This is where a boat can be useful.

As many people who have quite naturally and understandably failed to succeed
at waterskiing will tell you, the boat merely drags the skier through the
water, and does nothing whatsoever to lift the skier out of, and up onto,
it.  The inability of certain individuals to waterski is not due to any lack
of talent, but is in fact due to the person's above average powers of
concentration.  These people concentrate so hard on what they are trying to
do that they can't help but notice that it is mind-bogglingly unlikely that
any such thing is going to happen.

Rather than supplying impetus, the boat serves mostly as an added
distraction, so that at the exact moment that the skier knows he needs to be
thinking about bending his knees, leaning back, relaxing his teeth, or
pleading with his gods for assistance, he is instead thinking something
like, "Did Brad just open the last beer?"  It is at this crucial moment of
distraction that he completely fails to sink like a stone, and instead finds
himself shooting across the surface of the lake like a dart, tethered to a
speeding boat.

The rope with which he is tethered does not actually serve to pull him,
either.  It merely ensures that he stays within a reasonable distance of the
boat, so that he will hopefully continue to be distracted by it.  While
other sources of distraction can be effective, a boat is so consistently
successful that most waterskiers bring one along as a matter of course.

No one ever falls while waterskiing.  What many do in fact experience is a
sudden and unfortunate reawakening of the logic centers of their brain.
Just as they are scooting along defying all the laws of physics they know,
and several they've never heard of, it suddenly occurs to them that what
they are doing can't possibly be happening.  The laws of physics immediately
awaken, yawn, and toss them in the drink for putting one over on them in the
first place.

Barefooting is another case altogether.  Barefooters are insane.  They need
no distraction, having never believed in the laws of physics in the first
place.  The barefooter uses a boat not for distraction, but because he has
to have an audience, being convinced that without an audience he ceases to
be.  Barefooters tend to be loud, obnoxious, nasty folk, and often holiday
as European football fans.

See also:
  • Means Of Transportation For The Earth-Confined Hitchhiker
  • Black Holes
  • Afterlife, The

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