mckmac: *** Fire and Forget ***
By < hms123 >&< jessicafischerqueen >& < Boomie >
"It is quite rare that we find a world class player writing a book about an opening that can still be found in his repertoire.Secrets should be kept in small boxes.If you see an opening, go for it.For she who hesitates is lost.And yet she who is lost must yet hesitate."
All unintended consequences require contemplation.She meditated on the wreckage of her good intentions.
Those same meditations led to a resurgence of intentions that were, of course, less than admirable.
"Admirable intentions... I knew an Admiral Intentions once... he was certainly less than admirable.
However, on the Field of Mars we call our beloved chess board, the only progress that can be made is fueled by less than admirable intentions-- by intentions that are forged in Blood and Iron, forged in the reptile brain that wishes nothing other than the utter destruction of the opponent, than to raze him, burn him and sow him with salt so that nothing can grow there till the end of time.Yet even while enjoying the entrails of a fallen foe, the Komodo dragon may glance up at the warmth of the sun."
"In the combat arena, through extraordinary valor and skill, there can arise the sense of a higher purpose, a sweet science.The sweet science is all the sweeter for its rule-based violence.Its primitive nature accounts for its popularity."
"Quite so, Dr. Tarrasch!" interjected the overexcited biology student, who had recently suffered a significant drop in his grade-point average due to a recently acquired, and most unfortunate, fascination with the <English Opening: King's English Variation. Hungarian Attack With 11...kh9>, "But surely you don't propose that the amygdala is some kind of wanton playground suitable for the fancies of young Catholic High School Girl Chess Students in trouble?"
Dr. Tarrasch almost imperceptibly lifted his left eyelid, deigning only to remark "Someone get that dirty young man out of this operating theatre."His pince-nez slightly askew, Aron Nimzowitsch nodded his head in approval.
But Frank Marshall intervened saying "You'll have to come through me first!"
Madonna immediately piped up with "Ladies first! Ladies first!" just before the tiger ate her for lunch.
That was, of course, a certain chess-playing tiger whose friends called him Petrosian.Petrosian had been awarded this sobriquet by benevolent teachers who regarded his equanimity in class as a sign that he was a friendly, happy, pliable student-- a "rosy" teacher's "pet," if you will-- hence "Petrosian"-- but the hidden truth was almost too awful to apprehend.Young Petrosian secretly hustled all of his classmates' borscht money during recess in forbidden chess games, in which he would often give his hapless prey Knight odds and then proceed to dismantle their hopes, dreams, and very souls, peppering his relentless play with taunts such as "Your Grandmother's farm has spotty raspberries." But his fear of detection rose to paranoiac levels where school lockers contained KGB agents with binoculars, textbooks hid listening devices, and every opponent was assumed to be a snitch.To insulate himself, the master of defense created the Chess Thieves World, a group of young toughs with bishop tatoos and bad attitudes who patrolled the hallways during games, pummelled snitches, and blitz beat down new members including the ingrate who would eventually clip the Tiger's tail.
But then, perhaps a "den of thieves" isn't collective at all, but is merely metaphorical.Or, perhaps it is both.It is neither. It is an art.Bringing order to the chaotic mundane is a worthy goal, but don't let the chaos win.Let the chaos wash over you.