Two Joints Funny Quotes

While writing the article that reported these findings, Amos and I discovered that we enjoyed working together. Amos was always very funny, and in his presence I became funny as well, so we spent hours of solid work in continuous amusement. The pleasure we found in working together made us exceptionally patient; it is much easier to strive for perfection when you are never bored. Perhaps most important, we checked our critical weapons at the door. Both Amos and I were critical and argumentative, he even more than I, but during the years of our collaboration neither of us ever rejected out of hand anything the other said. Indeed, one of the great joys I found in the collaboration was that Amos frequently saw the point of my vague ideas much more clearly than I did. Amos was the more logical thinker, with an orientation to theory and an unfailing sense of direction. I was more intuitive and rooted in the psychology of perception, from which we borrowed many ideas. We were sufficiently similar to understand each other easily, and sufficiently different to surprise each other. We developed a routine in which we spent much of our working days together, often on long walks. For the next fourteen years our collaboration was the focus of our lives, and the work we did together during those years was the best either of us ever did. We quickly adopted a practice that we maintained for many years. Our research was a conversation, in which we invented questions and jointly examined our intuitive answers. Each question was a small experiment, and we carried out many experiments in a single day. We were not seriously looking for the correct answer to the statistical questions we posed. Our aim was to identify and analyze the intuitive answer, the first one that came to mind, the one we were tempted to make even when we knew it to be wrong. We believed—correctly, as it happened—that any intuition that the two of us shared would be shared by many other people as well, and that it would be easy to demonstrate its effects on judgments.

I could tell Murray was concerned by the sight of the prison and its surroundings. But he did his best to hide it, putting on a show for all of us. “You really think this run-down joint is going to hold me?” he asked tauntingly. “I’ve gotten out of places with way better security than this.” “Yes, but you never broke out of them,” Catherine reminded him. “You weaseled your way out. SPYDER sprang you. Or you cut a deal with the US government to give evidence against other people in return for getting off scot-free. But that’s not going to happen here. SPYDER is gone. And the US government doesn’t even know where you are. Only we do—and we’re not about to share that information with anybody.” Murray’s confidence faded. It was a struggle for him to keep up his display of bravado. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll tell someone, right? You’re not going to boast to anyone at the CIA or MI6 about how you caught the greatest criminal mastermind of his generation?” My friends and I all looked to one another, then shook our heads. We all knew that while Murray would consider going to prison at Tsetseng horrible, the real way to take him down was to deflate his ego. “Greatest criminal mastermind of your generation?” Zoe repeated doubtfully. “You’re not even close.” “What?” Murray cried. “Who’s better than me?” “For starters, someone who didn’t get repeatedly captured,” I said. “There’s a young criminal in Russia named Boris Blatvatsik,” Svetlana reported. “Now he is a criminal mastermind. Much smarter than you. And he has much better hygiene, too.” “Ooh,” Zoe cooed, knowing it would get under Murray’s skin. “He sounds really devious.” Murray fell into a sulk. “Ha ha. Very funny. You’re all a bunch of jerks.” “I guess you’d be the expert on that,” Mike told him. Two prison guards flanked Murray. Each took an arm and they led him across the dusty ground toward the prison gate. I stood with Erica, Mike, Zoe, and Svetlana, watching as the kid who had lied to me, conned me, betrayed me, and tried to engineer my death over and over again was led away. “So long, Murray,” I said. Murray looked back over his shoulder, mustering a final bit of cockiness, and stared me down. “You haven’t seen the last of me,” he warned. Even though it was a threat, I couldn’t help but smile. Because I had the wonderful feeling that Murray Hill was wrong—and I had finally defeated my nemesis once and for all.