"Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman!" - unam.

University of North Carolina."
"Which do you mean," he said, "the State University of North Carolina at Raleigh,
or the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill?"
Needless to say, I hadn't the slightest idea. "Where are they?" I asked, figuring
that one must be near the other.
"One's north of here, and the other is south of here, about the same distance."
I had nothing with me that showed which one it was, and there was nobody else
going to the conference a day late like I was.
That gave me an idea. "Listen," I said to the dispatcher. "The main meeting began
yesterday, so there were a whole lot of guys going to the meeting who must have come
through here yesterday. Let me describe them to you: They would have their heads kind
of in the air, and they would be talking to each other, not paying attention to where they
were going, saying things to each other, like 'G­mu­nu. G­mu­nu.' "
His face lit up. "Ah, yes," he said. "You mean Chapel Hill!" He called the next
taxi waiting in line. "Take this man to the university at Chapel Hill."
"Thank you," I said, and I went to the conference.
But Is It Art?
Once I was at a party playing bongos, and I got going pretty well. One of the guys
was particularly inspired by the drumming. He went into the bathroom, took off his shirt,
smeared shaving cream in funny designs all over his chest, and came out dancing wildly,
with cherries hanging from his ears. Naturally, this crazy nut and I became good friends
right away. His name is Jerry Zorthian; he's an artist.
We often had long discussions about art and science. I'd say things like, "Artists
are lost: they don't have any subject! They used to have the religious subjects, but they
lost their religion and now they haven't got anything. They don't understand the technical
world they live in; they don't know anything about the beauty of the real world ­­ the
scientific world ­­ so they don't have anything in their hearts to paint."
Jerry would reply that artists don't need to have a physical subject; there are many
emotions that can be expressed through art. Besides, art can be abstract. Furthermore,
scientists destroy the beauty of nature when they pick it apart and turn it into
mathematical equations.
One time I was over at Jerry's for his birthday, and one of these dopey arguments
lasted until 3:00 A.M. The next morning I called him up: "Listen, Jerry," I said, "the
reason we have these arguments that never get anywhere is that you don't know a damn
thing about science, and I don't know a damn thing about art. So, on alternate Sundays,
I'll give you a lesson in science, and you give me a lesson in art."
"OK," he said. "I'll teach you how to draw."
"That will be impossible," I said, because when I was in high school, the only
thing I could draw was pyramids on deserts ­­ consisting mainly of straight lines ­­ and
from time to time I would attempt a palm tree and put in a sun. I had absolutely no talent.
I sat next to a guy who was equally adept. When he was permitted to draw anything, it
consisted of two flat, elliptical blobs, like tires stacked on one another, with a stalk
coming out of the top, culminating in a green triangle. It was supposed to be a tree. So I