What The Question Is...
©2015, George J. Irwin. All rights reserved.

Whether we like it or not, we all have stereotypes buried within us. Some may come from the built-in "fight or flight" mechanism that dates back to the time when if we didn't run, we'd be a meal for some other inhabitant of the planet. Others come from absorbing what we observe, or what we are taught. Some stereotypes are merely amusing, and others are downright evil.

The stereotype that I was subject to growing up was, let's say, variations on the "smart kid." The milder terms used to describe me included "Walking Encyclopedia." I'll skip the less nice ones because, frankly, I don't want to give anyone any coaching in this area.

My usual response to this, when offered in a good-natured way, has typically been "Well, put me under the hood of a car and you'll see how smart I am," also in a good-natured way. I want to underscore the point that we might all have talents, but they don't translate to all subjects at all times. I could probably tell you which thing-a-ma-jig is the spark plug and which one is the intake for the windshield wiper fluid, but that doesn't mean I'm going to be able to do much more than call the Triple A if something goes really wrong.

Ah, but now, I can put that old response aside. For I am pleased to report that I can relinquish that stereotype of the Walking Encyclopedia for good, abdicate the throne of the King of Trivia, vacate the top spot in the pecking order of The People From Whom To Get The Answer.

For I have taken the Jeopardy! On-Line Test. Unsuccessfully.

I can't even tell you how many times I have been told in all sincerity that I absolutely must try out for this quiz show. It's been around almost as long as I have. At least a plurality of viewers remember only the nighttime syndicated version with Alex Trebek as the host, and who can blame them since at this writing it's been on the air for nearly thirty-one years, beginning in September 1984. But before that, the show where the answer is supplied and the contestant needs to provide the question was on during the daytime, five days a week, from 1964 to 1975. That's the version with Art Fleming, Don Pardo, and questions with values in the teens of dollars, not the hundreds. That first version is the one recreated in the video for Weird Al Yankovic's affectionate sendup, "I Lost On Jeopardy," which features Fleming and Pardo and includes Greg Kihn, whose pop hit "Jeopardy" was the basis for the parody. That's the Jeopardy—the "Fleming Version," that's ingrained in my head right along with the current "Trebek Version." And by the way, if you are given the answer, "This talk show host created both Jeopardy! and Wheel of Fortune, making millions from them," the question is, "Who was Merv Griffin." He also wrote the "Think Music" played during Final Jeopardy! which is presently the theme for the Trebek Version.

Well before the days of the Internet, the Fleming Version was produced in New York City, and prospective contestants applied directly to the show's office. The process now is much more inclusive, as it begins in cyberspace. About once a year, it's announced on the show that the online test will be given on such-and-such dates. As my ability to watch the show varies depending on What Else Is Going On, I had somehow missed all of the previous announcements of the online test, but in April 2015, I finally saw one, cleared my calendar, and signed up.

And then I made the tactical error of telling a few people that I was going to try it.

"You'll be great!"

"You'll ace the test!"

"You'll get on in no time!"

"You'll win a ton of money!"

While appreciating the compliments, I knew that was in no way a guarantee. First, there were expected to be one hundred thousand people taking the test, against a maximum contestant roster that I had calculated to be in the area of four hundred-- two hundred new shows a year with new two contestants to challenge the Returning Champion, not counting the special events like the Tournament of Champions or the Teen Tournament.

So, even with a perfect test score online, the odds were long. And the online test was just the first step in the process. If you made it past that, there was a second hurdle: an in-person interview accompanied by a second written test. And successfully running that gauntlet didn't guarantee anything either. While the cycle time of the process for the Fleming Version might be six weeks start to finish, the beginning to end of the Trebek Version qualification could take years. It reportedly did for Ken Jennings, who holds the record for most consecutive matches won (seventy-four). The net of it was that were I to be called at all, it might be in time to use my winnings to supplement my Social Security income.

In addition, although there were some areas of knowledge at which I thought I'd be reasonably good, there were certain Categories From Hell at which I was simply going to be awful. Just some examples: The Bible, French Literature, Potent Potables, Shakespeare, and Art. (And following the events recorded here, there was a double-deadly category which appeared on the show: "Shakespeare In Art." I "ran that category" alright… I got every response wrong. What is "clueless"?)

Fortunately, I was encouraged by the news that each of the fifty questions in the online test had a different category. But I was disconcerted by the information that there just fifteen seconds were allotted to read each clue, determine the response, and type it in... fortunately, not in the form of a question. I did know that I read fast, which helped, but would it help that much? And would my generally lousy typing let me down?

No matter. I wanted to give it a shot, mostly to see how I would do, and with the understanding that in all probability it would be the closest I would ever come to playing the Official Game. No delusions of grandeur could be harmed, since I didn't have any in the first place.

And so, one April evening, immediately after the airing of that night's episode of the show, I sat at my computer and awaited the start of the Jeopardy! Online Test. The countdown cycled down, the "Think" music played—a nice touch, as well as more royalties to the estate of Merv Griffin—and it began.

First up: Category, "Book Series." The answer: "This Diana Gabaldon series takes place in Scotland in the 20th and 18th Centuries."

I had...

Nothing. I had never even heard of this author; sorry, Ms. Gabaldon. I knew that some clues had a key word that led to the correct question, and perhaps "Scotland" was that key word, so could it be Highlander, perhaps?

Oops, out of time. On a scrap of paper on which I had written three words: "Yes" "Maybe," and "No," I placed a tick mark below the word "No." Zero for one. For the record, the correct response is Outlander.

Second: Category, "Current TV." The answer: "President Fitzgerald Grant was in office in this drama."

Now, I am often asked how I can get as much done as I do, and one of the main reasons is that I do not watch a lot of television. Therefore, I also did not have any instant ideas about this one either. But I knew that some recent television shows had Presidents in them, perhaps the most famous of which was The West Wing. So that's what I typed, and as some of you know that's not only wrong but illogical since The West Wing went off the air in 2006, which hardly made it "Current TV." The correct response: Scandal.

Third: Category, "3-Letter Science." The answer: "It's an atom that becomes electrically charged by gaining or losing an electron."

And hurray, something I knew. "Ion." In fact, it's been a correct response on the actual show, several times. One in the "Yes" column, for sure. One for three would be Hall of Fame material for a baseball player, but not for a potential contestant on Jeopardy! Still, I had one right.

The next item, "U.S. Cities," should have been a cinch for me, but it wasn't. "This Ohio city is named for a Roman-inspired society of Revolutionary War army officers."

What?!?

My brain froze on "Columbus," which I knew wasn't right. It unstuck and landed on "Cleveland," which I knew wasn't right either. And then it jumped to "Toledo," which would have been fine if the clue had been "This is the home town of the Mud Hens, M*A*S*H character Max Klinger's favorite baseball team." And I ran out of time again. About thirty clues later, my brain finished its background processing and came up with "Cincinnati," from the Roman general Cincinnatus, not from the Revolutionary War Society of the Cincinnati. Only the third largest city in Ohio, and the setting for one of your favorite shows of all time, WKRP in Cincinnati, and you forgot it?

And so it went from there. The fifth response was "Hearsay," correct, I guessed that "The Roman Senate House stood in" the Roman Forum, got my Category From Hell "French Literature" next and whiffed on who wrote Candide (Voltaire, duh), and bounced back on "Logos" by knowing that a green robot is the symbol of the Android operating system. On further review, Item Nine proved to have multiple possibilities, I hope that "Ares" was one of them, the Roman counterpart of Mars, who was the Greek god of war. And I think I blew Item Ten, which was "The President bestows this, the highest U.S. military award, in the name of Congress." The Medal of Honor? Did I type "Congressional" in front of that, and did that make it wrong?

So on the first ten, I had three right, three definitely wrong, one probably wrong, and three possibly right. That was not going to result in my making the second round, and might have had me mathematically eliminated already. (The folks at Jeopardy! do not ever officially reveal the minimum score required to pass, despite what you might have read.)

The next five went better. I definitely had four, one from being a train buff and knowing that the film The General starred Buster Keaton, and one because I had been to the play The Glass Menagerie with my wife. It might have been five if I'd remembered that the Danube was the longest river that emptied into the Black Sea. In the next five, the French got me again: "A 2014 MOMA exhibit was devoted to the paper cut-outs of this 20th Century French Artist." Er, I'd like to Phone A Friend? (Henry Matisse. I had to look it up later.) I also brain froze on the one-word title of Cheryl Strayed's memoir of hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, even though it was a Major Motion Picture at the same time. Now, wasn't that Wild that I couldn't come up with it. Yes, in fact, it was Wild.

And, verily, Shakespeare came up, as he always does, and I doubt that I correctly remembered that Rosalind, Orlando and Jacques were in As You Like It. However, I guessed that any clue containing "LDS Church" had a very good chance of needing the response "Utah," so I got an item about Mia Love right even though I had never heard of Mia Love. That's how things were supposed to go: multiple paths to a correct response. But not knowing the name of the artist who sang the hit "Take Me To Church" was not going to sit well with my daughter. Hozier, yes, I know now, dear.

In fact, it was about then that a notion popped out of background processing: that the majority of these clues were written in the style of the Fleming Jeopardy, not the Trebek Jeopardy. There was more context from which one could draw out the correct response on the second major version of the show. For the on-line test, the clue was written in such a way that you either Knew It Or You Didn't. So What The Question Is... I had no idea.

Perhaps the best example of this was Item Thirty-Six. Category: "European Capitals." Answer: "It's the capital of Estonia." If this were on the current Jeopardy! there might have been some cutesy word association included, like for example, "I'm not ‘Tellin' what this Capital of Estonia is," which probably wouldn't have led me to "Tallinn" anyway. (The ultimate incorrect response to this clue, provided by a participant on a game show discussion group: "What is the letter ‘E.'" Think about it; you'll laugh.)

I was able to channel my extreme dislike for Moby Dick into a correct response, since only that book could have had a Chapter 95 and I didn't even need to know that it was titled "The Ebony Idol of Queequeg." And I was happy that I owned Alanis Morrisette's Jagged Little Pill album since a lyric from "You Oughta Know" was the basis of Item Number 37. And another thought jumped out of Background Processing: Maybe I was aging out of the Jeopardy! pool. Sure, my daughter would have known Hosier, and wouldn't have known Alanis Morrisette (sorry, Alanis, but your multi-platinum smash was released in 1995 while we didn't yet have children). But a non-trivial number of clues on the show were skewing contemporary, even if I wasn't... given my performance on "Current TV" for example.

I got very lucky in "Classical Music," a usual Category From Hell, and how's this for roundabout: "'Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring' is from a cantata by this composer." One of the first 45s I owned was the 1972 record "Joy" by Apollo 100, and I can still see it in my mind, with the writing credit to "J.S. Bach," released on the Mega Records label in red and yellow with black print. But I was so happy about that victory that I blew the easiest Geography question of the night by placing Washington east of Idaho instead of Montana. Even so, I was reasonably confident that out of Items 41 to 49, I had six right, one probably right, and one for which I had a fifty-fifty chance of being right.

And then there was Item Fifty, the last one. "Parts of Speech" was the category. I knew I'd get this one, for sure… I'm a writer, why wouldn't I?

"Between and inside are this part of speech."

Wait… what? Hold it, are those adverbs or adjectives, or, no, they're prepositions, maybe… quick, brain, access that Schoolhouse Rock file!

Oops, out of time again. Darn! (That's an interjection.)

When it was all over, a mere twelve and one-half minutes after it began, I initially reckoned that I had about half the items right, with some of the rest as "maybe" and at least ten definite "no"s. Further fact-checking revealed that the final tally of correct questions was most likely twenty-eight. Unless the test was graded on a curve, I would know not to expect a telephone call from the producers. I was not ready for my close-up.

No matter, though, I'd tried, and I'd, well, done about what I thought I would do... which was not much different from how I do playing along at home when the show is on. Despite what would have been deemed a lackluster showing by my peers, I enjoyed the experience. Each of the three on-line tests were different, and so the first round of questions was posted online a few hours after I took the test. Immediately afterwards, discussions lit up in cyberspace about several of the questions being ambiguous (they were), and some volunteered their self-scored results:

"I got at least 45 right!"

"I think I have 48."

"I'm pretty sure I have 49 out of the 50!"

And I, friends, have jettisoned a stereotype.

"What is ‘Thoroughly Relieved,' Alex?"

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