Hymn of Anti TRIZ-journal

Recently a few readers sent us letters expressing support for our journal. Here are some excerpts from them:

"While browsing the Internet, I found that infamous Triz-journal, tried to read some articles, luckily, before too late, discovered your Anti-Triz journal. Couldn't argee more with your position." (A. G., Washington, D.C.)

"Unfortunately, TRIZ by not becoming a science, became a scavenge for crooks. While Altshuller was in control he held them away or constrained. Now they make of it what they want. It is a result of both: a nature of crooks and a nature of TRIZ." (F.G., New York)

The editorial board has discussed these letters and completely agreed with the readers' opinion. Moreover, there seem to be many people sharing similar views. Therefore, the board decided that Anti TRIZ-journal has to become not only a tool of the corresponding propaganda but also an organizer of all such people.

As a first step in this direction, the board moved to compose hymn of Anti TRIZ-journal. As a prototype, some forgotten Russian poem was chosen and then altered to adapt it to the TRIZ reality. The results of this effort are presented below. The readers are invited to apply their TRIZ skills to figure out the title and the author of the original poem. (Hint: this is a level 3 problem.)

Conversation with Mr. Altshuller


                              Awhirl with events,
                                                  packed with jobs one too many,
                              the day slowly sinks
                                                   as the night shadows fall.
                              There are two in the room:
                                                        I
                                                        and Genrich -
                              a photograph
                                           on the whiteness of wall.



                              Mouth is open
                                            in tense speech, 
                              Expressive eyes 
                                              look straight. 
                              There in wrinkles 
                                                it's squeezed 
                              A human thought 
                                              large 
                                                    as the forehead


                              It looks like 
                                            he talks 
                                                     to the thousands, 
                              Attentive people, 
                                                auditoriums packed. 
                              I couldn't sit still, 
                                                    risen by eagerness 
                              To report, 
                                         to salute, 
                                                    to enact. 



                              Mister Altshuller, 
                                                I give 
                                                       this 
                                                            account, 
                              Not as a duty 
                                            but from 
                                                     my heart. 
                              Mister Altshuller, 
                                                 the job mounts 
                              But will be done 
                                               and is going hard! 



                              We train, 
                                        educate, 
                                                 and teach 
                                                           ignorants, 
                              We work 
                                        hard 
                                              for your dream 
                                                             to fulfill.

                              However, 
                                        there is a lot 
                                                       of arrogants,

                              muck
                                   and  rubbish
                                                around  us still.



                              It is tiring 
                                           to fight 
                                                    and to argue, 

                              Without you,
                                           they have got
                                                         out of hands.
                              Very 
                                   many 
                                        TRIZ 
                                             machinators 
                              Act up 
                                      in US, 
                                            and all lands. 



                              There's no a name 
                                                or a handle, 
                              A long row of types 
                                                  goes by: 
                              Fools, 
                                    idiots, 
                                            and just swindlers, 
                              Crooks, 
                                      sectarians, 
                                                  and charlatans. 



                              They present themselves proudly, 
                                                               up noses, 
                              Flashing buzz words, 
                                                  references 
                                                             and certificates. 
                              We'll uproot 
                                           all of them, 
                                                        of course, 
                              But to uproot all 
                                                is terribly difficult. 



                              Mister Altshuller, 
                                                 along a strange route, 
                              In all lands 
                                           and seasons 
                                                       fling, 
                              With your, 
                                         the teacher's, 
                                                        name and heart, 
                              We think, 
                                        breathe, 
                                                 struggle 
                                                          and live! 



                              Awhirl with events,
                                                  packed with jobs one too many,
                              the day slowly sinks
                                                   as the night shadows fall.
                              There are two in the room:
                                                        I
                                                        and Genrich -
                              a photograph
                                           on the whiteness of wall.


(adaptation and alteration by G. Filkovsky and Y. Karasik. Translation to English (except for the first quatrain) by G. Filkovsky. Translation of the first quatrain by unknown.)