A week ago my work buddy, Mike Nelson, gave me the following puzzle: “Imagine you were reduced to the size of a nickel and placed into a blender. You have sixty seconds before the blender turns on. What do you do?” (Sharp eyed readers will recall I included the puzzle in my recent blog entry How would you move Mount Fuji)

What to do? What to do?

Thoughts. Well, my first thought would be to duck under the blades and hope that 1-no liquids are added to the blender and 2- the blender isn’t given a little shake at the end of the blending cycle like you sometimes do to dislodge unblended chunks. Then I thought about trying to scale the walls, but a glass wall isn’t particularly scalable. It’s like a 5.14 something. Could I tip the blender over? Not likely. Could I jam the blades with my shirt or belt? Probably not.

Wait! Now would be a great time to negotiate with what or whoever placed me into the blender. Give in to whatever demands they have in order to be removed from the quandary. Stop! Why am I attempting to use physics and logic to solve a illogical puzzle? Whatever magic was used to shrink me to the size of a nickel might also be used to return me to normal size, or transport me out of the blender, or make me indestructible, or allow me to pass through the walls of the blender, or continue to shrink me until I was microscopic. At the very least, the magic could be used to bring me back from the dead.

But maybe in this scenario, I’m nearing death anyway. In that case, I ought to use the last 60 seconds to peacefully reflect over my life. Then again, perhaps I was cast down into the blender by pinko liberal commies and, in that case, I might use my 60 seconds in a harsh condemnation of their treachery.

So many possibilities.