From: dquesnel@lambert.waterloo.edu (darc)
Subject: Re: Go figure
Organization: University of Polkaroo
Date: Tue, 14 Apr 1992 03:28:24 GMT

In article <1216@lysator.liu.se> ceci@lysator.liu.se (Ceci Henningsson) writes:
>
>Recently I have seen the expression _Go figure_ in many places. It
>seems to be a preferred way to end postings in rec.pets.cats for
>instance. What does it mean, what is its style worth and where does it
>come from? (Not geography-wise, but rather full sentence-wise.)
>

There's a bit of a story to this.

You see, there's an ancient oriental game called Go.  It
consists of a board with a simple grid, where opponents
place the playing pieces, one using black stones, the other
white.  Movement of these pieces by the players follow
simple rules.

In this game there are various positionings, or
configurations, that a player's pieces can end up in after
much maneouvering.  These are called figures.  Certain
figures are more desirable than others, and can almost
assure the outcome of the game in one's favour, as this is
primarily game of positioning.  In this it is much like
war, although usually less bloody.

One day, a very long time ago, in the distant Orient, two
great Go masters met and agreed to a contest of skill.  In
no hurry to begin they parried verbally.

"What will on earth might we play, Master Xian?"

"Perchance a little game of Parcheesi, Master Leung?"

"Hmm...  Do you think the weather is ammenable to such an
undertaking?"

After a few minutes of such banter they agreed to a simple
game of Go.

At this point it must be said that Master Leung had a love
other than Go.  It was his lapdog, which he affectionately
called his Little Anteater.

Master Leung loved this dog for good reason, as everybody
agreed.  It was a very lovable dog.  Quiet, yet playful.
Its fur emminently pettable.  In Master Leung's voluminous
robes he often made room for his Little Anteater.  On this
day, the dog rested peacefully in one of its master's
sleaves.

The game began.  It progressed.  It drew on for several
hours, in fact.  For these two were very good players of
the game.

Little by little, Master Leung was able to take some
advantage by achieving a very subtle, yet possibly, if
played right, a very powerful figure.  He worked for a
further length of time, what seemed like hours to him, to
try and consolidate this figure, for he could taste the
victory, the honour that this would bring him.

Fate seemed to be with Master Leung.  Master Xian did not
notice the constellation of pieces that was forming.  Or if
he did, he let no outward expression of recognition play
across his features.  Nor did he mount any seemingly
effective counter measures.  All was resting then, on this
figure.

As fate would have it, though, and as you might guess, at
this moment Little Anteater jumped from the sleave of
Master Leung, completely disrupting the board, scattering
the stones from here to Timbuktu.

Master Leung, not at all impulsive, or in any way a
spiteful man, said wistfully, with a shrug: "Go Figure".

He picked up his Little Anteater, thanked Master Xian,
promissing to meet him again, then scampered on home,
flopped in bed, and cried, holding his Little Anteater
close.

To this very day we honour the wistfullness of logic by
uttering the same words that Master Leung did so many years
ago.

Or so the story goes.

>
> --Ceci, dabbling along in English
>

--darc
Me?  I'm just splotching along in English.
Xref: sparky alt.usage.english:2930 soc.culture.british:6098