In mathematics, an “imaginary number” is a number which, when squared, yields a negative value. Despite the fact that imaginary numbers do not really exist, they are a very handy device, and have applications in physics, engineering and many other scientific disciplines.
Similarly, the world is full of “imaginary people”: people whom no one has ever met, but who do more to change things on this Earth than many real people do. For example:
The People Who Support George Bush
According to PollingReport.com, about 35 percent of Americans support our president. However, I have not met such a person in a long time, and am convinced that if such a person did exist, he would have to be either imaginary or retarded. For in his time as president, George W. Bush has involved the U.S. in a pointless war in which 3,079 Americans have died (14 last week) and which has grown bloodier as the years passed.
Indeed, consider the following point: 2,752 people died in the events of September 11. So we can justifiably say that our president has killed more Americans than Osama bin Laden, and therefore has no business criticizing him or trying to hunt him down. But this is, of course, a moot point, since our president has not caught bin Ladin anyway, and never will.
After this bloody and unnecessary war, one would expect any reasonable-minded American to hate W’s guts. And indeed, every person I know is of this opinion. But there is still that 35 percent of Americans, that “Imaginary Right,” who continue to support our president and provide him with the illusion that the American public is still behind him, and thus justify, in whatever serves him for mind and heart, the continuation of the war with Iraq.
The Boyfriend of Girls I Hit On
Several years ago, I conquered my fear of women by walking up to random females on campus and conversing with them. During this period of my existence, I became acquainted with the “imaginary boyfriend.”
I would walk up to the girl, converse with her for a minute or two, and then say, “Well, you seem pretty cool. Could I give you a call sometime?” And more often than not, she would reply, “Umm, I have a boyfriend.”
However, when I got home and looked the lady up on Facebook (in true stalkeresque fashion), her profile usually revealed her to be “Single,” and “Interested in a Relationship.”
From this I could only conclude that she had an imaginary boyfriend, who could not talk to her, take her out to dinner, or have sex with her, but whose companionship she still valued very much, for some reason or other.
The Entire N.C. State Student Government
I must qualify this statement. I have met Will Quick, our student body president, and can vouch for the fact that he is real. But I have never met any of the other members of SG, nor have I ever observed the slightest sign that any one of them exists.
Every April, we elect a new Student Government. And what happens then? They disappear for the next 12 months. We never hear about them; they make no changes that affect our lives or our campus; for all intents and purposes, they drop off the face of the Earth. From all the effect SG has, one would think that elections were like the Miss America pageant, where, after the victory, the winner has nothing to do but gloat for the next year.
Whil Piavis was an exception to this rule: he did something during his tenure as student body president; that is, he dressed like a pirate. This was not a terribly productive or useful action, but at least it was something and reminded the campus that he was alive.
The American Indian
(I am one-eighth American Indian, so I need not use the phrase “Native American.”)
We have been hearing about Indians all our lives. We hear about Indians and their tomahawks, Indian style, Indian teepee, Indian this, Indian that.
But have you ever SEEN an Indian? I never have. Do you know why? Because they are all dead. Our soil is spongy with the blood of Indians, and we should keep in mind that, contrary to popular belief, Columbus did NOT discover America, and that our ancestors were liars, thieves and murderers.
Tell Jeff that, when squared, he yields a negative value at [email protected].