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Not everything is possible, despite what The Matrix and infomercials tell us
BY REBECCA WIEDER
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No matter what you thought of The Matrix Reloaded, it’s hard to deny the impact of the original film on American culture. No longer was the vinyl trench coat just for pimps and traffic cops. White boys everywhere enrolled in karate classes. And all of us fantasized about learning to fly a helicopter in the time it takes to power up a PC. The Matrix proposed a reality in which anything was possible, since reality itself was relative. As revolutionary as this notion was, it fell short in terms of the sexier benefits it proposed: as far as we know, it is not possible to learn to fly a helicopter in three minutes, or to bring a dead person back to life with a kiss. But the idea of a world in which anything is possible is still appealing, and as a result, many of us cling to its more realistic incarnations — the kinds of things that show up in infomercials. Cut through steel with a five-inch blade! Learn Swahili while you sleep! Do we know better than to believe that these things are possible? Yes. Do we own a deluxe set of Ginsu knives, a Thighmaster, or a revolutionary new face cream? Quite possibly. My friend Jamie is one of these incredibly level-headed, cautious people who, in a moment of blind faith, ordered a set of language tapes that promised to teach him Czech in 10 days. Recently, I called to find out how it was going. He had just finished lesson 15, which sounded like a lot of Czech to me. So I threw out the only Czech phrase I know, one I’m told means, "Beer, please." Jamie was stumped, which seemed strange since there aren’t any subjects or verbs in this phrase, and also because in my brief experience with the Czech Republic, I found that asking for beer is one of the only things every tourist learns to do. "They’re short lessons," Jamie explained. "But I know how to say other things. Like ‘I’ve just been robbed.’ And ‘Where is the hospital?’ And ‘My child is lost.’ Which seem like pretty important things to know how to say." And they are, they really are. Especially if you have children or anything to steal, which Jamie doesn’t. What Jamie does have is a propensity for worrying, and in this regard, he’s getting his money’s worth. But other people, who might not see a trip to Prague as fraught with danger, don’t get as much out of the lexicon of disaster. Luckily for these folks, I’ve decided to develop a series of language tapes for every disposition. Because let’s be real: no one can learn Czech in 10 days. It is possible, however, to learn Czech for the Cautious in just minutes. We Americans have proven that we have limited time (or perhaps facility) for foreign languages — why not cut to the chase? Think of the possibilities. If you’re the Don Juan type on your way to Iran, you pick up a set of Farsi for Flirts, from which you learn to say, phonetically, "Oon chadoray seeyah cheghad behet meeyad" (or, "That black veil becomes you"). In case that fails, you can consult your trusty guide and wow them with, "Joohmehye pish, shomara dar Imam Zadeh deedam" ("Didn’t I see you at the mosque last Friday?"). Let’s say you have a friend who’s always dreamed of going to Oman, but is concerned that he won’t be able to make his needs known. So you order him a set of Omani for the Obsessive-Compulsive, without which he would never learn to say "The soap dispenser is empty" and "Can I have a room with a deadbolt?" You may have picked up on some of the limitations of this system. What if you’re obsessive-compulsive during the day, flirty after a couple of drinks? That’s where the old infomercial standard comes in: bonus packs! Order Flemish for the Frigid and, for no extra charge, receive Flemish for the Fearless as well! Because while it might have appeared that Keanu Reeves’s character was able to pick up aerial combat in 30 seconds because he was The One, I would wager that his lack of personality played no small part in his superior absorption abilities. I mean, how hard is it to pack your noggin with information when it’s a blank slate? The rest of us, however, are complicated. We’ve got limited space up there. We have no choice but to specialize. Still, I don’t think Jamie would go for it. He’d probably give me some crap about being well-rounded. But when you master "I’m having a brain hemorrhage. Where is the nearest hospital?" before you can say, "Beer, please," well-rounded probably isn’t at the top of the list of adjectives that best describe you. Unless you want to learn a language the archaic way — by studying it — you have to be realistic. This isn’t The Matrix. You are not The One. And so, for your convenience, I’m offering you this special package; I’ll even throw in a disco anthology and a commemorative My Little Pony gold-leaf plate if you order in the next 20 minutes. Toll-free number to follow. For Ginsu knives, face cream, and Farsi for Flirts, Rebecca Wieder can be reached at rebezca@juno.com
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