As you know, we occasionally like to offer advice for those who may someday have the opportunity–however unlikely–to travel through time. Today’s thoughts are on the genius Galileo (actually Galileo Galilei, making the Renaissance-era renaissance man a sort of old-timey Duran Duran), whose contributions to astronomy have proved invaluable to posterity, but cost him so much at the time.
If you’re like most people, your first inclination upon travelling back to Galileo’s era would be to defend the later-to-be-proved-correct notions of the historical wop. This helps no one. If the Church didn’t believe a brilliant dude like Galileo, do you really imagine they’re going to believe the ravings of someone who claims to “come from the future?” Of course they’re not. And despite Galileo’s fame and scientific vindication, it took about 500 years for the Vatican to admit its mistake. Do you suppose that the Church would even remember excommunicating you? Your immortal soul can’t take that risk.
That’s why, if we ever travelled back to that era, we’d do things a little differently. We’d try to find out when Galileo was giving his big presentation, and get there a little earlier. “Holy Fathers,” we’d say, “We’ll be brief–our pal Galileo wants to say something to you next. We just wanted to let you know that we have confirmed through hours of meticulous research what the wisdom of the Church has been teaching for centuries–the sun does indeed revolve around the earth. Thanks for your time, we know you’re very busy and are eager to hear what Galileo has discovered.”
Those who follow our advice won’t be disappointed. Although, you’ll be proved an idiot in half a millennium’s time, this fact will be lost to all but the most OCD-afflicted historians. And while the brilliant Galileo suffers the indignities and metaphysical perils of excommunication, yours will be a life full of wenches and mead.
If I could travel back in time, I wouldn’t waste it on Galileo. I would go back to the 80s and force myself to get rid of the perm and big glasses. Oh, and the shoulder pads. Oh, and the leg warmers. Oh, and the…
Some Guy said:
While you’re back there, if you could talk to the early-90s version of me about his mullet, I’d be very grateful.
Will do. And thanks for reminding me that I, too, had a mullet in the early 90s…
It’s called a Femullet. Post pix, the both of you.
Not in a million years…
Smak, You are hilarious! I love the Duran-Duran joke…laughed, too hard!!
El Guapo said:
I’d also explain to Galileo that people only have two arms and two legs. Not like in that drawing of his.
How the hell did he miss that?
Leeches work well for swelling, as maggots do for gangrene. Beware the karma of insulting the shaman in the picture. Believe there’s a curse attached! 😉
Thanks, Anastasia! The curse comes just from taking his picture! And while I knew about maggots, I didn’t know about that use for leeches. I know they’re sometimes used to keep blood flowing when doctors are trying to reattach a digit.
Recyclable medical equipment. What’s not to love? And maggots tickle. 🙂
Oh, if time travel were possible send me back to 1981 so that I could somehow get tickets to a Journey concert, so I could see and hear Steve Perry perform live back when he was hot, hot, hot in those tight, tight jeans! But I would somehow have to smuggle a digital camcorder across the space-time boundary so I could relive that glorious footage again and again.
I would want to come back with the quickness though, once I got to experience (again) just how bad cassette tapes suck, and how bad cars- with a precious few exceptions- sucked back then too.
Journey in 1981 would be pretty sweet, I agree–but if you just waited a couple years you could hear Steve Perry perform “Oh Sherry.”
In high school I had a teacher who had gone to a Led Zepplin concert and filmed part of it. The highlight of the short film was when a chick pulled her shirt up. That was about as much action as I got in high school.
Yeah, I didn’t care much for his solo stuff. But from 78-83, Steve Perry- with Journey, that is, kicked ass!
And I probably got even less action than you. I was voted “Least Likely to Get Laid” in the Senior Will. I did eventually, and even at one point with a real live human male, but it’s all been down hill from there.
Jen and Tonic said:
I would definitely lie to get wenches and mead.