So, did anybody read the story about the construction worker who found a cooler box buried underground at an Edenvale construction site? He immediately called the SAPS who, upon investigation, discovered that the cooler box contained R1,5-million in small, unmarked bills. So far this story sounds like a fairy tale involving a hard-working, honest man who did the right thing. That’s if you ignore the fact that the money might/might not have evaporated into thin air. That’s just how our law-enforcement agencies roll, I guess.

But I’m curious about the thought patterns employed by this man. He never opened the cooler box and therefore never knew there was R1,5-million cash inside when he called the law. No. He suspected that there was a bomb inside. Since I read this story for the first time, I’ve been wrecking my brain trying to figure out how one goes from “cooler box buried underground” to “bomb”. If this story had taken place in Sri Lanka or Iraq, I might understand. But this is South Africa in 2009 and 90% of the Boeremag are behind bars. Plus, who would want to plant a bomb deep in the belly of the earth underneath a construction site?

My conclusion is that the “bomb” thought was a completely random thought. A thought that makes as much sense as shouting “Petri dish” when someone throws “thong” at you during a word association test. I would understand someone who suspects there’s a stash of alcoholic contraband in the cooler. Hell, I’d even understand someone thinking it’s a cooler stuffed with human remains. That’s congruent with the reality of our nation. But a bomb?

This story awoke a theory inside me that I have been researching in my spare time. Today I’m going to dazzle you with it. I call it the Theory of Randomness of Thought or the Anti-Buridan’s Ass. You will get to tell me which theory makes more sense, based on your own subjective observations. Don’t bother, I have alerted the appropriate Nobel Prize committee to have a look into it.

The summarised version of my theory goes something like, “There is no recognisable cause-and-effect pattern that informs most human behaviour”. That’s correct; I believe that the bulk of human behaviour is informed by a series of random thoughts that follow no logical sequence.

Jean Buridan was a French ass who hypothesized that human beings, placed between a rock and a hard place, will tend to gravitate towards a state of paralysis while they contemplate the rational pros and cons of the choice before them. In other words, people have such a pressing need to rationalise their actions that they would rather stay rooted in one spot. In a word, donkey bollocks.

To get philosophy geeks off my back, yes, I know that I have “remixed” Buridan’s thoughts on the matter somewhat. And yes, I know he wasn’t really the originator of these ideas — that there is a school of thought called determinism, Buridan being just one of the proponents. But none of the other determinism dudes have a cool phrase like Buridan’s Ass associated with them — so I went with his French ass. Okay, who is right between Buridan and Co and me? Do people generally have a need to rationalise their actions or is the bulk of human behaviour informed by oblivious randomness? I believe I’m right.

Most people who believe that human beings are rational beings are themselves, generally quite rational beings. They belong in that roughly 10% of any population that can count. And they tend to form the bulk of social commentators in any population. I think that making the assumption that human beings are generally rational because you, yourself, are rational is the height of delusion. It is an abuse of the Pareto Principle.

Yesterday I was driving abreast a man in a white Ford Bantam bakkie. He was busy peeling an orange as he drove. Completely oblivious to any other options he could take regarding the disposing of the peels, he sommer ejected the peels out his window one-by-one. I rolled down my own window to give him that “Dude, you’re littering” cold, hard stare. He gave me a confused, “Do I have spinach stuck to my teeth?” blank stare in return. It then hit me; this man has absolutely no rational reason for throwing orange peels out his window other than the fact that … well, he’s throwing orange peels out the window. He’s not doing it consciously nor is he exercising an option. There are no cause-and-effect forces at play. When someone litters consciously, they tend to cast sneaky glances to see who is witnessing this. Or they stare back at you defiantly if they are social deviants. Not this man. He was not conscious of his actions or their significance. It was a completely random act.

Tell me if I’m the only one who comes across random driving on our roads. You’re on the right lane on the highway. You are approaching a solitary vehicle on the left lane, crawling at 80km/h. There are no other cars on the road within a 2m radius of you and the crawler. When you’re within 10m of the other vehicle, it violently swerves into the fast lane without any warning, prompting you to slam on your brakes hard and swerve into the left lane to avoid a collision. You have a very good view of the road. There isn’t a mouse crossing the road. There is no pothole. Only smooth N3 tarmac. As you overtake him on the left, you take a good look at the driver. He’s completely unaware of your presence. In fact, he’s whistling contentedly. This change of lanes was a completely random act. Some arbitrary dendrite fired a random electric impulse and he decided to try out the right lane. Randomly.

When I’ve tested my theory of randomness on some friends and used the above example, I’ve had this thrown at me, “No man, he was just an absent-minded person”. Thanks for making my argument for me. That’s precisely my point! Most people are absent-minded. There is an absence of thought that drives their actions. An absence of any rationale. The presence of randomness.

I can go on and on. Such as the example provided by a bunch of my schoolmates from my Wozanazo Higher Primary in Mpumalanga Township Hammarsdale circa 1983. This trio of bright sparks decided to skip the first day of term, use their school fees to have a jolly ole braai in a gorge behind the school and claim that they a notorious neighbourhood bully jacked the money. And their story would have worked too. They would get away with it. Except, of course for one problem. Randomness.

After they bought their meat, chakalaka, bread and several bottles of Sparletta Iron Brew, there was some cash left over. They could have bought themselves sweets, Simba chips, hell even cigarettes to complete their lovely experience. No. These guys went past the hardware store, got themselves a can of red paint and wrote the words, “THIS IS WHERE WE HAD OUR BRAAI. SIGNED, DANIEL, MESHACK AND ABEDNIGO” (Or whatever other biblical names they went under) in huge capital letters on the rocks, complete with the date.

Quiz: How do you go from braai ingredients to a can of paint?

Answer: Randomly

I do not know how long your average oil paint lasts on a rock. I sure hope they used Plascon Wall & All. If the ad about lasting, and lasting, and lasting is accurate, perhaps the writing is still there, in the gorge just beneath the KwaMadlokovu taxi stop. When my Theory of Randomness of Thoughts lands me that coveted Nobel Prize, I will petition the government to declare that wall a shrine to Randomness.

I have reason to believe that the incoming administration will look favourably upon my request. It’s just a random hunch.

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  • Once upon a time, Ndumiso Ngcobo used to be an intelligent, relevant man with a respectable (read: boring-as-crap) job which funded his extensive beer habit. One day he woke up and discovered that he had lost his mind, quit his well-paying job, penned a collection of hallucinations. A bunch of racist white guys published the collection just to make him look more ridiculous and called it 'Some of my best friends are white'. (Two Dogs, ISBN 978-1-92013-718-2). Nowadays he spends his days wandering the earth like Kwai Chang Caine, munching locusts, mumbling to himself like John the Baptist and searching for the meaning of life at the bottom of beer mugs. The racist publishers have reared their ugly heads again and dangled money in his face to pen yet another collection of hallucinations entitled 'Is It Coz 'm Black'. He will take cash, major credit cards and will perform a strip tease for contributions to his beer fund.

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Ndumiso Ngcobo

Once upon a time, Ndumiso Ngcobo used to be an intelligent, relevant man with a respectable (read: boring-as-crap) job which funded his extensive beer habit. One day he woke up and discovered that he...

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