Dinner For Three
April 12th 2008 07:46
If you could invite any three people from history to dinner, who would they be?
Oh, that's easy. Jesus, Plato, and Bach.
Slight problem: this is utter bullshit. You wouldn't invite any of these people and you know it. Bach spoke German, Plato spoke Ancient Greek, and Jesus spoke Aramaic. You'd all be sitting there for hours trying to figure out how to ask for the salt. How scintillating that would be.
Now, I know what many of you are going to say. "Those three people are dead! If we can resurrect them for the purposes of this anecdote, can't we just make them speak English?" Well, not if you're working to the Three Dinner Party Guests internal logic. Sure, you can make them speak English, but if you're happy changing their chosen language, perhaps you'd also want to make them understand modern vernacular, or perhaps pop culture references. I mean, you can't help talking the way you talk, and if you happen to say "lol", or make an earth-shattering point about what should have happened with Ross and Rachel, it's going to be difficult if Plato still two seasons off finishing his "Friends" Complete Series box set.
So, basically, you'll keep making changes to these people until Plato sounds like a guy who's now doing an Arts/Philosophy course, Bach sounds like the keyboardist from The Shins, and Jesus is just some hippy who recently found Himself.
Sure, if you were at an actual dinner party and someone actually asked you which three historical figures you'd have over for tea, you'd mention these people to sound cool -- although, these are pretty stock standard answers, so you'd probably mix it up a bit with Buddha, Nietzche and Antonio Salieri -- but you wouldn't have any of these people over for dinner because you'd have jack squat to talk about. And they'd have jack squat to discuss with each other.
Be honest. You'd have Johnny Depp, David Beckham and Kylie Minogue over for dinner. And, of course, none of them would talk to you because you're thoroughly uninteresting compared to the rest of them. You would have a miserable time.
The dinner party hypothetical doesn't quite work, because you either have to completely adjust the behaviour of the people you've invited -- and if you're going to do that, you may as well hire lookalikes and tell them how you want them to act -- or you have to accept that the practicalities of such an occasion would render you utterly disappointed.
So how do you properly figure out an answer that not only sounds good to your hipster friends, but would actually work if a bored genie overheard you?
Pick three people from relatively modern times, people who reached their peak within the past five to ten years. This is important, for reasons of basic linguistic and cultural fidelity. Then, carefully pick people whose only common interest happens to intersect with your area of expertise.
I'll give you an example:
Let's say you studied criminology at uni (this actually helps with your desire to have famous people over for dinner, because you probably wouldn't have too many friends). You've studied serial killers, and thanks to the rigorous theoretical coursework, you're well read-up on all the big ones. You can speak intelligently about them, and you're really in your own when you discuss such things in conversation.
You don't, however, want your hypothetical dinner to include Charles Manson, Ed Gein and the Zodiac, because you'd probably end up as the main course*.
No, you still need to preserve the cache of having cool dinner guests (so you can gloat to people about it later), but still have that commonality in case it does actually come to pass. Therefore, your three empty seats should be occupied by...
Sufjan Stevens: Popular enough so that people know who he is, but also indie enough (at time of writing) to be considered very cool. Also, one of his best songs is "John Wayne Gacy Jr" from the album "Illinoise", about, believe it or not, mass murderer John Wayne Gacy Junior. Sufjan will be suitably impressed with your expertise, and will probably write a song about you when, seven hundred albums into his career, he gets around to writing an album inspired by your home state, regardless of your country of origin.
Jodie Foster: Frighteningly intelligent and a brilliant actor, Foster is best known for roles in films like "Silence of the Lambs" and "Taxi Driver". She's almost certainly smarter than you, but you might be able to throw in a few fun facts she didn't know. Also, you'll probably gain extra credibility if you begin pointing out factual inaccuracies regarding the deaths in "Bugsy Malone".
Chuck Palaniuk: Not exactly a notorious writer of serial killer books, but what's the alternative? Having Thomas Harris over? Then you'd have to spend the whole evening trying not to accidentally say "So, Hannibal sure blew chunks, what's the deal there?" when you were only trying to ask how he enjoyed the soup. No, Palaniuk's the guy you want. He's a hip, uber-cool writer whose stories always touch on elements of bizarre fact as well as the supernatural. Rarely do his books not involve murder and an examination of humanity's extreme nature. He also litters his work with interesting factoids, so remember to bring as many of them up as you can.
So, why do these people work together? Well, let's say somebody brings up the art of songwriting. It's obviously going to be a conversation where everybody's directing questions at Sufjan Stevens, so even if you don't know anything about chord progression and ethereal hooks, you're not going to appear any dumber than Foster or Palaniuk. This same principle will apply to conversations about acting and conversations about writing novels.
Eventually, when the conversation turns to you, there's going to be a certain level of expectation. You've just had three really interesting discussions on what it's like to be a brilliant songwriter, what it's like to be a brilliant actor, and what it's like to be a brilliant author. Now, everybody's looking at you. Just what do you have to bring to the table, aside from the food you've been serving?
This is where you pull out your degree in criminology. Suddenly, Jodie's all "I discovered this fact when I was researching for Lambs..." and you're all "That's mostly right, but in actuality...", and Sufjan is all "Did you know John Wayne Gacy did this?" and you're totally "You're right, and your song did a great job at mentioning his tendency to whatever", and Palaniuk is utterly "I'm thinking of doing a new book about a guy who kills whoevers" and you're exponentially "Well, you should hear the infrequently-told story of blankety-blank", and everybody's listening with rapt attention and the conversation goes well into the wee hours because nobody wants to go home.
There you have it. Like anything worth mentioning, there's a fine art to picking your fantasy dinner guests, and, as is so often the case, it's not always the obvious one that people may assume.
Now, I'm well aware that this may not appear as practical or helpful as I may have implied at the start. Even if you apply the above formula to your own expertise in, say, politics, and come up with a fantasy guest list of Aaron Sorkin, Michael Stipe and Nigel Hawthorne, you're still not actually going to get those people over to your house. Or, in the case of Nigel Hawthorne, exhumed, resurrected and then over to your house.
No, the practicality of this exercise is so that if you're at an actual dinner party and somebody actually asks you which three historical figures you would have over for dinner, you can instantly answer with your pre-planned guest list. When pressed for an explanation, you have a far more interesting and brilliantly logical answer than anyone else at the table, and suddenly you are the most interesting person at dinner. You've therefore inadvertently achieved your goal, and in a real-life setting, to boot.
Also, you're welcome to put me on your fantasy dinner party guest list, but be warned that because I'm the one who thought of everything above and you only know about it because of me, I'm actually several steps ahead of you, and will inevitably steal your desired thunder. Just so as you know.
* IT'S A COOK BOOK!
Oh, that's easy. Jesus, Plato, and Bach.
Slight problem: this is utter bullshit. You wouldn't invite any of these people and you know it. Bach spoke German, Plato spoke Ancient Greek, and Jesus spoke Aramaic. You'd all be sitting there for hours trying to figure out how to ask for the salt. How scintillating that would be.
Now, I know what many of you are going to say. "Those three people are dead! If we can resurrect them for the purposes of this anecdote, can't we just make them speak English?" Well, not if you're working to the Three Dinner Party Guests internal logic. Sure, you can make them speak English, but if you're happy changing their chosen language, perhaps you'd also want to make them understand modern vernacular, or perhaps pop culture references. I mean, you can't help talking the way you talk, and if you happen to say "lol", or make an earth-shattering point about what should have happened with Ross and Rachel, it's going to be difficult if Plato still two seasons off finishing his "Friends" Complete Series box set.
So, basically, you'll keep making changes to these people until Plato sounds like a guy who's now doing an Arts/Philosophy course, Bach sounds like the keyboardist from The Shins, and Jesus is just some hippy who recently found Himself.
Sure, if you were at an actual dinner party and someone actually asked you which three historical figures you'd have over for tea, you'd mention these people to sound cool -- although, these are pretty stock standard answers, so you'd probably mix it up a bit with Buddha, Nietzche and Antonio Salieri -- but you wouldn't have any of these people over for dinner because you'd have jack squat to talk about. And they'd have jack squat to discuss with each other.
Be honest. You'd have Johnny Depp, David Beckham and Kylie Minogue over for dinner. And, of course, none of them would talk to you because you're thoroughly uninteresting compared to the rest of them. You would have a miserable time.
The dinner party hypothetical doesn't quite work, because you either have to completely adjust the behaviour of the people you've invited -- and if you're going to do that, you may as well hire lookalikes and tell them how you want them to act -- or you have to accept that the practicalities of such an occasion would render you utterly disappointed.
So how do you properly figure out an answer that not only sounds good to your hipster friends, but would actually work if a bored genie overheard you?
Pick three people from relatively modern times, people who reached their peak within the past five to ten years. This is important, for reasons of basic linguistic and cultural fidelity. Then, carefully pick people whose only common interest happens to intersect with your area of expertise.
I'll give you an example:
Let's say you studied criminology at uni (this actually helps with your desire to have famous people over for dinner, because you probably wouldn't have too many friends). You've studied serial killers, and thanks to the rigorous theoretical coursework, you're well read-up on all the big ones. You can speak intelligently about them, and you're really in your own when you discuss such things in conversation.
You don't, however, want your hypothetical dinner to include Charles Manson, Ed Gein and the Zodiac, because you'd probably end up as the main course*.
No, you still need to preserve the cache of having cool dinner guests (so you can gloat to people about it later), but still have that commonality in case it does actually come to pass. Therefore, your three empty seats should be occupied by...
Sufjan Stevens: Popular enough so that people know who he is, but also indie enough (at time of writing) to be considered very cool. Also, one of his best songs is "John Wayne Gacy Jr" from the album "Illinoise", about, believe it or not, mass murderer John Wayne Gacy Junior. Sufjan will be suitably impressed with your expertise, and will probably write a song about you when, seven hundred albums into his career, he gets around to writing an album inspired by your home state, regardless of your country of origin.
Jodie Foster: Frighteningly intelligent and a brilliant actor, Foster is best known for roles in films like "Silence of the Lambs" and "Taxi Driver". She's almost certainly smarter than you, but you might be able to throw in a few fun facts she didn't know. Also, you'll probably gain extra credibility if you begin pointing out factual inaccuracies regarding the deaths in "Bugsy Malone".
Chuck Palaniuk: Not exactly a notorious writer of serial killer books, but what's the alternative? Having Thomas Harris over? Then you'd have to spend the whole evening trying not to accidentally say "So, Hannibal sure blew chunks, what's the deal there?" when you were only trying to ask how he enjoyed the soup. No, Palaniuk's the guy you want. He's a hip, uber-cool writer whose stories always touch on elements of bizarre fact as well as the supernatural. Rarely do his books not involve murder and an examination of humanity's extreme nature. He also litters his work with interesting factoids, so remember to bring as many of them up as you can.
So, why do these people work together? Well, let's say somebody brings up the art of songwriting. It's obviously going to be a conversation where everybody's directing questions at Sufjan Stevens, so even if you don't know anything about chord progression and ethereal hooks, you're not going to appear any dumber than Foster or Palaniuk. This same principle will apply to conversations about acting and conversations about writing novels.
Eventually, when the conversation turns to you, there's going to be a certain level of expectation. You've just had three really interesting discussions on what it's like to be a brilliant songwriter, what it's like to be a brilliant actor, and what it's like to be a brilliant author. Now, everybody's looking at you. Just what do you have to bring to the table, aside from the food you've been serving?
This is where you pull out your degree in criminology. Suddenly, Jodie's all "I discovered this fact when I was researching for Lambs..." and you're all "That's mostly right, but in actuality...", and Sufjan is all "Did you know John Wayne Gacy did this?" and you're totally "You're right, and your song did a great job at mentioning his tendency to whatever", and Palaniuk is utterly "I'm thinking of doing a new book about a guy who kills whoevers" and you're exponentially "Well, you should hear the infrequently-told story of blankety-blank", and everybody's listening with rapt attention and the conversation goes well into the wee hours because nobody wants to go home.
There you have it. Like anything worth mentioning, there's a fine art to picking your fantasy dinner guests, and, as is so often the case, it's not always the obvious one that people may assume.
Now, I'm well aware that this may not appear as practical or helpful as I may have implied at the start. Even if you apply the above formula to your own expertise in, say, politics, and come up with a fantasy guest list of Aaron Sorkin, Michael Stipe and Nigel Hawthorne, you're still not actually going to get those people over to your house. Or, in the case of Nigel Hawthorne, exhumed, resurrected and then over to your house.
No, the practicality of this exercise is so that if you're at an actual dinner party and somebody actually asks you which three historical figures you would have over for dinner, you can instantly answer with your pre-planned guest list. When pressed for an explanation, you have a far more interesting and brilliantly logical answer than anyone else at the table, and suddenly you are the most interesting person at dinner. You've therefore inadvertently achieved your goal, and in a real-life setting, to boot.
Also, you're welcome to put me on your fantasy dinner party guest list, but be warned that because I'm the one who thought of everything above and you only know about it because of me, I'm actually several steps ahead of you, and will inevitably steal your desired thunder. Just so as you know.
* IT'S A COOK BOOK!
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Comment by Anonymous
Even taking your process into account, my stock answer still works: my three favourite filmmakers, Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino and Paul Thomas Anderson.
For one, they're all still alive, active, speak my language and retain all their mental faculties.
Secondly, they all speak the same topical language -- cinema -- in which no-one will deny my massive fluency. (And I have nothing but extensive experience in talking to a room of loquacious film buffs.)
Thirdly, with the machine gun patter of this trio, there's no pressure on me whatsoever to get a word in: I'd just throw a subject out there (ie. the French New Wave, "which actor should've been a major star but wasn't?", why modern Hollywood cinema is shit, etc) and watch the three of them pounce and chew and tear into it for the next hour.
And, finally, if the subject of me ("So, what do YOU do?") comes up, I can detail my struggles as a fledgling filmmaker, because I know I'd get two sentences in before the three kings all started firing advice, then going into their experiences and comparing with each other and bantering and film referencing and dickswinging and whatnot.
See, I'd have to actually do very little, and it'd STILL be a spirited dinner conversation which would exist into the wee small hours. Which is my whole philosophy in life, really: get to know people who are far more interesting than me and throw out subjects for them to talk and laugh about for hours, all the while never realising how uninteresting I am!
But... I can't cook, so I'm screwed before I've even begun...
P
Comment by Maxxie
Comment by Maxxie