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THE NEEDHAM HEX: COUNTING ON VOODOO MAGIC

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We constantly underestimate the influence of naked irrationality in our world. You know the "BOOKS OF THE FUTURE" you may have perused as a second grader? The ones where people toodled around well-planned Seattle-esque cities in flying cars, all the while talking on videophones with their trim, jumpsuit-wearing friends? One of those books is still the naieve, stupid root-code for any and all simulations of the future running in our brain.

(The flying car is not, repeat, is not just a naieve futurist thing, though. Blade Runner has them, and if you think Blade Runner is optimistic, then you are a current resident of Detroit. Orlando is ready when you are. )

Even if we do get our walk in turbo-showers, benign robot servants, and tasty insta-food ready and loaded, know that the grip of superstition will never fully release its moldy grip on humanity because we will never, ever cease to be fascinated with drama we cannot control. Someone, presumably after parking their flying car with the "HONK IF YOU SACKED BRODIE" bumper sticker on it, will still be doing the 27th Century version of the Needham Hex.

There's a ball of energy in my hand right now, and....HEX! The only thing dorkier would be shouting "EXPELLIARMUS!" when you really need the other team to fumble in a tight spot. We'll let you know if it works, because you know we'll be doing it at one desperate point in the season.