Q: What is wrong with Descartes' logic in his statement, "I think, therefore, I am"?

A: Wow.

Something's wrong with it, huh?

All right, let's take a look.

"I think, therefore I am." I guess it makes a kind of sense. If you didn't exist, you would hardly be making the statement, let alone thinking about it.

The bigger question is: who needs a logical justification for the fact of their existence? Was anyone worried about this?

And I guess the answer to that one is: yeah, lots of people were, back when Descartes was making pithy assertions in the seventeenth century. That was before the scientific revolution, so the big brains of the world were philosophers. As incredible as that is to believe.

It really goes to show what a dead field philosophy now is. Once upon a time, "I think, therefore I am" was an intellectual breakthrough very much on par with our "e=mc2." I may be biased as a twenty-first centurian, but it seems to me that Einstein's equation gave us nuclear power, an understanding of solar physics and the biggest testable insight into cosmic law (relativity) since Newton's theory of gravitation, whereas "I think therefore I am" gave us zip.

And to think, philosophy was the dominant mode of inquiry for thousands of years, the primary means of approaching truth. How the mighty have fallen.

Of course, the philosophical impulse hasn't gone away, but it has become entirely consumed by science. Even its eternal imponderables now take the form of scientific postulates. We don't ask nebulous, inane questions about the existence of a soul, we ask how the phenomenon of consciousness arises from processes in the brain. That's a wonderful step forward, and we should feel good about it. We're asking much better questions about ourselves and the world than ever before, and we're coming up with much, much better answers than "I think, therefore I am," arguably the worst answer to one of the worst questions of all time. (I guess I'm starting to turn on poor old Descartes...)

It's interesting to note that the other great mode of approaching truth, religion, has not suffered philosophy's fate. It has endured the advent of science. Flourished, even.

I think this goes to show that science and religion are not compatible world views. If they were, science would have gobbled religion up by now, the way it has philosophy. But religion does not compete with science. It presents an alternative to science. And people love alternatives.

I wonder what will become of the struggle between science and religion in the coming centuries. Will science put to rest the vain assumptions and comforting bromides of religious faith, or will belief in a god prove to be an ineradicable aspect of our nature?

I'm glad that question wasn't asked, 'cause I honestly don't know the answer.

But while we're on the subject of how useful "I think therefore I am" ISN'T, here's my list of the absolute best, most useful ideas human beings have ever had (listed in order):

1. Darwin's Theory of Evolution
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(and a big drop-off before we get to)
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2. Newton's Theory of Gravitation
3. Quantum Theory
4. Pasteur's Germ Theory
5. Einstein's Theory of Relativity

Scientific ideas, each and every one. Maybe that's my bias, but maybe it's an indication that when we tripped onto science, we tripped onto a very useful way of coming up with good ideas.

Maybe even the best way.

Q: When is one considered middle-aged?

A: Generally? Between the ages of forty and sixty.

But you already knew that.

I prefer a less exact but more meaningful definition. I consider someone middle-aged when they've stopped rising in life. When their prime is over. When cruise control has been engaged.

It's a mindset, really. If you are still striving to achieve things in life, you're not middle-aged. If you seek happiness in life's daily pleasures, you are middle-aged.

Consider how much of that is circumstantial. If you happen to achieve most of your long-term goals early in life -- something that isn't under your control as much as you perhaps think it is -- then you are likely to slide into middle age earlier than someone who fails to achieve what they want as early in life.

So maybe it's GOOD to be middle-aged. Maybe it's the sign of a successful life.

On the other hand, maybe it indicates you've given up on the aspirations of youth. You no longer have any hope of improving your lot, so you've turned towards enjoying what you have rather than reaching for what you want.

I don't know. And since that wasn't the original question anyway, I'm not going to feel guilty about ducking it.

Q: Is it a myth that great art can only be produced out of great suffering?

A: Nope. Nope. Not a myth.

There are two levels on which one must suffer for art.

The first results from the sheer effort required to produce something good, and the sacrifices required to do so. The effort is massive and the sacrifices are legion. And unfortunately, no matter how hard you work or how far you're willing to go, the odds are always going to be against you, so get used to poverty and privation and a social status three levels below that of a garbage collector.

That part sucks.

The other level of suffering is considerably more painful.

It derives from the peculiar requirement of art to be a representation of some deeply-felt emotional truth. Art, after all, is not about insight. It's about evoking a feeling. And it turns out to be nearly impossible to make an audience feel anything unless the artist has felt it first, and usually much more keenly.

Therefore an artist has to write (or sing -- or paint or sculpt, but it's been a long time since those two media evoked any feelings other than "Oh, how nice," which is not a feeling at all)... therefore an artist has to write or sing about something that has a special resonance for the artist him- or herself.

And this is where the suffering comes in.

Because "special resonance" puts it too finely. It's more accurate to say an artist has to write about emotional issues that are deeply fucked up in her/himself. Are you just not pretty enough? Are you just not smart enough? Does your mama not love you? Got daddy issues? Whichever one of these questions makes you cringe -- that's what you should be writing about.

You see this all the time in the great works. Charles Dickens spent time in the poor house as a child. It was traumatic. Is it any wonder so many of his protagonists are orphan children struggling to find a place in a cruel world?

But I phrased that wrong. It IS, in fact, a wonder. By continually going back to that ugly, scary place inside himself, Dickens imbued his stories with a raw emotional power no other writer of his era could deliver. And this is what separates great artists from mediocre or -- gasp! -- failed ones: masochism. Dickens wasn't more SKILLED than his contemporaries. Artistic achievement isn't about skill, you great fool! It's about the courage to face your own inadequacies over and over and over again.

What an artist offers a greedy population is a quivering piece of his torn and bloody soul. They throw money at him and gobble it up in an instant. Then they demand another piece.

The artist's life is awful. Avoid it if at all humanly possible.

Q: Are Charlie X's powers a curse or a blessing?

A: Well, obviously they didn't do Charlie X any favors.

For those who don't know, "Charlie X" is an episode of the original Star Trek. In it, the Enterprise rescues an adolescent human crash survivor -- Charlie X -- from a farflung alien world. Charlie's been stranded on this desolate planet since he was a baby, so he has never met another human before now.

Understandably, Charlie has a hard time adjusting to life on the Enterprise (the ingrate!). He finds the nuances of social behavior especially hard to grasp. As a result he is an unhappy misfit, which our man Kirk tries to portray as normal for a boy Charlie's age. (There is a strange fifties sitcom quality to this episode, sort of like "Leave it to Beaver" with Kirk as Ward Cleaver.) Unfortunately Charlie also possesses telekinetic powers which make him a mortal threat to everyone around him.

Instead of making people like him, Charlie's powers only serve to isolate him further. In the end he is spirited away by the aliens who gave him the powers in the first place, never to enjoy human contact again.

Clearly the writers of Star Trek had a strong opinion about the efficacy of power to achieve personal happiness. I am not so impudent as to contradict those wise sages.

Instead, I will merely call to mind another of Captain Kirk's thoughtful insights: "Too much of anything, even love, isn't necessarily a good thing."

Kirk's right. There's such a thing as too much money. There's such a thing as too much love. There's even such a thing as too many telekinetic powers too early in life.

Think of Captain Kirk's (fictional) life itself. It plays out like a wish-fulfillment fantasy -- who doesn't want to be the handsome, daring captain of a starship? -- but each week, Kirk and crew faced vastly more powerful adversaries and usually prevailed by the skin of their teeth. It's STILL wish-fulfillment, but clever wish-fulfillment. It reckons -- correctly -- that people are most happy when they have accomplished much and enjoy a measure of status, but still struggle against steep odds on a daily basis in the quest to achieve yet greater things.

By the time the movie Star Trek II rolls around, Kirk has been promoted to Admiral and all-around living legend. This promotion makes Kirk profoundly LESS happy than he had been in his heyday as an adventurous (and often over-matched) starship captain. He is also socially isolated, living alone in a big condo full of antique pistols.

The Star Trek saga sets things to rights, of course, by having Kirk steal the Enterprise and break multiple articles of interstellar law in his quest to bring Spock back to life and save the Earth from a destructive alien space probe. This results in Kirk's demotion back to the rank of captain and reassignment to the task "for which he has repeatedly demonstrated unswerving ability, the command of a starship."

The balance is restored, Kirk has just enough power but not too much, and we can go happily traipsing around the galaxy again.

That's the kind of happy fate that eluded Charlie X, and many others who pursue power as an end in itself. Extremes are easy. Balance is hard. But balance is where it's at, if you can somehow pull it off.

Q: Is it worthwhile to begin dating a girl if I know I'm eventually going to break up with her?

A: Yes, you damnable fool! Yes!

A relationship is a delicate balance of power. You always want the balance to tilt in your favor.

In this case, the fact that you "know" you are eventually going to break up with this girl means you consider her a bit beneath you. Good! You are about to spare yourself the demons of jealousy and insecurity. You are about to spare yourself the ever-present anxiety that grows day by day till it becomes a consuming misery that ends up spoiling whatever pleasure you got from the relationship in the first place and culminates in the moment your romantic partner finally puts you out of your suffering with a figurative bullet to the head, for which you will be billed.

Instead you are going to spend your evenings with someone who thinks you are much more handsome, funny and interesting than you actually are. You are suddenly going to be really good at sex. And you are going to end up doing pretty much whatever you want. If what you want is to do nothing but watch TV alone, you are going to get to do that too.

When it's over, this relationship will largely fade from your memory, but it will have been one of the better and happier relationships of your life.

All this assumes the girl too recognizes the imbalance -- she realizes you're a bit above her, and is commensurately more enthusiastic about the relationship than you are. It also assumes the power dynamics don't change as you get to know each other. If, at any point, you start to see that this girl of yours is an amazing person you don't ever want to let go of, you are in a world of hurt and nothing I can say here will be of any help to you.

Q: What is the best piece of evidence that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone?

A: The Zapruder film.

Miraculously, we've got actual footage of the moment JFK was shot, and despite the opinion of Oliver Stone and what sometimes feels like an overwhelming consensus of popular opinion, evidence of multiple shooters simply does not exist.

Was there someone on the grassy knoll? Maybe. But there's no evidence of it.

Was there someone with Oswald in the book depository? Maybe. But again no evidence.

Thanks to the Zapruder film, we all saw what happened that unfortunate day in Dallas. The president was killed by a man firing a rifle from the window of a building behind him.

I think the reason we love to cook up JFK conspiracy theories is because the assassination was such an emotional shock we can't bring ourselves to believe it was a senseless act of stupidity.

Three hundred years from now, when passions have cooled (thoroughly!), and historians of the future glance back at the JFK assassination, what do you think they'll say?

I think they'll say JFK was killed by a random nut job, just like Bobby Kennedy, Martin Luther King, John Lennon and a whole bunch of other people.

Occam's Razor can be a wonderfully useful tool in a situation like this, but so few people actually use it that it turns out not to be very helpful at all. Too bad, too, 'cause it has a nice sharp edge.

Q: With both Michael Jackson and Ed McMahon no longer among the living, can we ever expect to achieve racial harmony?

A: Heck no!

Unless you mean specifically between whites and blacks in the United States of America.

Then yes.

But probably not forever.

The thing is this: it's built into the architecture of our brains to distrust and demonize a group of outsiders. That group need not remain static. In fact, it's often in our best interests to befriend former enemies and alienate former friends. It's just the way we are.

But make no mistake: we're going to alienate someone.

Blacks and whites in America are going to be fine. Our interests are aligned, our friendships and families are deeply entangled, our contributions to a shared society are similarly mingled.

Of course, you could have said the same thing about Germans and Jews in the decades leading up to WW2. They had learned to live together, right? And then, suddenly, not so much.

A wise little puppet once said, "Always in motion is the future." That puppet knew what it was talking about. Nothing is permanent. Will blacks and whites achieve total racial harmony? Absolutely. Within a few decades, I imagine. Will we forever enjoy that racial harmony? We won't forever enjoy anything.

And even if whites and blacks were to remain the best of friends for the rest of human history, someone -- aliens, bacteria, intelligent toasters -- is going to suffer a serious case of racial disharmony.

I just hope it's not guys with dark hair and glasses.