Richard Feynman was a funny guy. He was no comedian, though, but an eminent physicist, a Nobel. The title of one of the books about his life is "Surely you're joking, Mr. Feynman!", explaining stories about how to crack safes, topless bars or his interest in samba.
Once he stated during a lecture he would like to memorize the digits of π (pi) until a point he could recite them and quip "nine nine nine nine nine nine and so on", suggesting, ironically and incorrectly, that π is rational. That is called the Feynman point.
I can't sleep tonight, got insomnia. Too many bad deeds, I guess. Besides, I can't help thinking about the worst one in my whole life that I'm about to carry out. I don't really believe in good and bad as moral absolutes, just as relative degrees which depend on context. So, I prefer to stick to the easier lema that "what goes around, comes around". Anyway, I'm still weighting the correctness and magnitude of that "coming around" I've decided to perform soon.
And this brings me back to π, the movie and the guy who can't sleep, twists and turns in his bed. He hits his head against the washbowl now and again, and his brain is reset. I'm trying the same thing in some minutes. Let's see if it works; otherwise, there will be no order tomorrow, only chaos!
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