one month now I became a teacher - so to speak - in solving the Rubik's cube. Everything has gone from having reviewed The Pursuit of Happyness Muccino of two weeks ago. There's a scene where Will Smith with a taxicab company in which the director would like to work. The guy is holding a Rubik's cube and can not solve it and, strangely enough, Will seems to be a little genius in mathematics and logic. He claims to know the answer and Director, doubtful, the challenge for the whole trip by taxi Smith sees moving your hands around the cube with an expression on his face weary and aching, panting and sweating, as such a constipated in the bathroom. The manager, sitting there at your side, cheering him and puffing and sweating in turn. Seeing this scene I immediately thought to buy one: if he really was sweating so much I could use instead of the bike. Then, opening the case for the bottom drawer of the desk to find a cd, I found out I had a Rubik's Cube ready-there waiting for me ...
was my father, back in the late '80s, just think '. The cube was published a few years in business, and my father liked these strange things. I remember as a small I lost whole days to complete a hand, undo it and complete it again. Then one day I was home alone (my left me alone without fear: I was quiet and easy-going like a little Buddha. The only thing you have to worry about was that empty the pantry of sweets ...) one day, I said, during one of my inspections in the kitchen, seeking happiness in a box of cookies, I discovered a hidden package skimpy on the bottom of a drawer. A sheet into rectangles, folded in four, with the corners rubbed. I opened it, curious but not too much (I still thought the cookies) and without even realizing I was in the hands of the solutions to the Rubik's cube.
handed down by a fellow colleague in the megaufficio My father, handwritten by a mysterious, primordial solver, perhaps the Hungarian Rubik himself, had come up to me as a divine gift. Sketches, drawings, symbols, this package had the same fascination for me that may now have a code of Leonardo. I tried to figure it out, but it was written in a kind of coded language. I thought it was to prevent it from falling into enemy hands, or something like that. In the evening I asked questions to my father told me that these were mysteriously "Solutions." He said that the package had been given in secret by a colleague who had received via carrier pigeon from a foreign cousin, who had secretly copied by the sample that a revolutionary French had secretly stolen by someone else. Turned secret copies of the leaflet, and anyone who was in possession had a moral obligation to at least make a copy and pass it to someone you trust. I gasped, I felt part of an international conspiracy. Probably had something to do with Russia: it was spoken so much in that time, and was always seen on television with the gentleman that spot ridiculous in my head ...
fact is that the day after the package was gone. I looked everywhere, I gave a detailed search in the drawers of the kitchen, the shelves in the room, I climbed to the highest chairs, I put in the most inaccessible spaces of home, risked the life more than once in what had become my personal treasure hunt. No way, the package was gone. I immediately thought of the Russians, I thought the man with the stain on his head. Yes, a spot on the head with a grim look and what can not but side with the bad. Rispolverai the nearly forgotten Condor air pistol and began a program of training hard, difficult, necessary, interrupted only by an equally needed break for a snack. In the evening I asked my father if he knew what had become of the paper, and I was astonished when he accused me of losing it. He said that I had to stop to browse in its drawers. I was accused of a crime he did not commit, I was unjustly tortured, left without food, locked in an isolation chamber. Were useless words, the evidence of my innocence, no, no avail, for nothing ...
Nearly twenty years later, almost two months ago, meeting in the same cube tray, always the same, but the package in that time has come a long way, has been passed down, copied, translated, and the Internet has become the affordable. That puzzle at first glance seems insoluble, colored that object shrouded in mystery, here in a week has become a pastime of a few minutes, I do and undone at least three times a day. And here is the secret code that had fascinated me so much I now so familiar that I could rewrite it from memory. But it would be unnecessary to write another leaflet: it's all here on the Internet, available to anyone. No more slips of paper on which to create mysterious and fascinating stories, no more unsolvable puzzles, there is a ready recipe for everyone.
I was going to close this post with links to the solutions of the Cube, but it would be too easy. Cercatevelo your own Package.
soon
Robi
was my father, back in the late '80s, just think '. The cube was published a few years in business, and my father liked these strange things. I remember as a small I lost whole days to complete a hand, undo it and complete it again. Then one day I was home alone (my left me alone without fear: I was quiet and easy-going like a little Buddha. The only thing you have to worry about was that empty the pantry of sweets ...) one day, I said, during one of my inspections in the kitchen, seeking happiness in a box of cookies, I discovered a hidden package skimpy on the bottom of a drawer. A sheet into rectangles, folded in four, with the corners rubbed. I opened it, curious but not too much (I still thought the cookies) and without even realizing I was in the hands of the solutions to the Rubik's cube.
handed down by a fellow colleague in the megaufficio My father, handwritten by a mysterious, primordial solver, perhaps the Hungarian Rubik himself, had come up to me as a divine gift. Sketches, drawings, symbols, this package had the same fascination for me that may now have a code of Leonardo. I tried to figure it out, but it was written in a kind of coded language. I thought it was to prevent it from falling into enemy hands, or something like that. In the evening I asked questions to my father told me that these were mysteriously "Solutions." He said that the package had been given in secret by a colleague who had received via carrier pigeon from a foreign cousin, who had secretly copied by the sample that a revolutionary French had secretly stolen by someone else. Turned secret copies of the leaflet, and anyone who was in possession had a moral obligation to at least make a copy and pass it to someone you trust. I gasped, I felt part of an international conspiracy. Probably had something to do with Russia: it was spoken so much in that time, and was always seen on television with the gentleman that spot ridiculous in my head ...
fact is that the day after the package was gone. I looked everywhere, I gave a detailed search in the drawers of the kitchen, the shelves in the room, I climbed to the highest chairs, I put in the most inaccessible spaces of home, risked the life more than once in what had become my personal treasure hunt. No way, the package was gone. I immediately thought of the Russians, I thought the man with the stain on his head. Yes, a spot on the head with a grim look and what can not but side with the bad. Rispolverai the nearly forgotten Condor air pistol and began a program of training hard, difficult, necessary, interrupted only by an equally needed break for a snack. In the evening I asked my father if he knew what had become of the paper, and I was astonished when he accused me of losing it. He said that I had to stop to browse in its drawers. I was accused of a crime he did not commit, I was unjustly tortured, left without food, locked in an isolation chamber. Were useless words, the evidence of my innocence, no, no avail, for nothing ... Nearly twenty years later, almost two months ago, meeting in the same cube tray, always the same, but the package in that time has come a long way, has been passed down, copied, translated, and the Internet has become the affordable. That puzzle at first glance seems insoluble, colored that object shrouded in mystery, here in a week has become a pastime of a few minutes, I do and undone at least three times a day. And here is the secret code that had fascinated me so much I now so familiar that I could rewrite it from memory. But it would be unnecessary to write another leaflet: it's all here on the Internet, available to anyone. No more slips of paper on which to create mysterious and fascinating stories, no more unsolvable puzzles, there is a ready recipe for everyone.
I was going to close this post with links to the solutions of the Cube, but it would be too easy. Cercatevelo your own Package.
soon
Robi
