If you ever have to engage me in a three game series of rock-paper-scissors, here’s a tip – I almost always just go straight rock (also known as the “Avalanche” gambit). The reasoning is…rock is strong, nothing beats rock, rock smashes all. Plus, the easiest and laziest thing you can throw is a rock. You don’t even need to open your fingers.

Here’s the real reason though – I’m essentially throwing every rock-paper-scissors match by using a predictable, established pattern, so that I may further establish that pattern and make it even more predictable. The people who are familiar with my rock heavy tendencies (ie. my brother) will almost always beat me. Even if they triple or quadruple guess themselves and throw scissors because they doubt that anyone would be so stupid to throw rock three times straight, they will generally at least win the crucial first game. So I’m essentially giving a one game lead to everyone that knows what I’m doing, I’m essentially letting them win. And 80% of the time, nothing important is decided by rock-paper-scissors. So I’ll take the hit on those 80% – doesn’t matter that much to me.

Because by setting you up on 80% of the matches, I’m positioning myself to win the other 20% – the matches that actually matter. Because the only moves you can really predict are your own. Unless you set up such a strong established history of predictability that your opponent eventually develops a predictable counter strategy against you. And then when the time is right…you strike.

They throw paper to catch the predictable, slow, and sluggish rock. But what’s this? No rock to be found! Instead, your belly – which has grown soft and vulnerable from years of gourging yourself on rock – now tastes the cold, piercing bite of my twin blades of stainless steel, connected by a central pivot, as to form a cutting device. And that throws everything off – instead of just another routine “Yak’s so stupid – he only throws rocks – I got this in the (paper) bag”…suddenly the hunter becomes the hunted. The gig is up – this rock happy sucker isn’t so rock happy and sucky anymore. Suddenly’s a whole new ball game. Retreat is necessary, a new game plan must be devised from scratch, improvised while on the battlefield. Pressure builds. The outcome of the war hinges on the split decision you must now make. Suddenly your hapless, overmatched opponent has tripled in size, and you must now defend against two additional dimensions. What will it be now? Scissors again? Perhaps paper? So you choose scissors, to beat paper and to block my scissors.

But it is neither. You hear it rumbling in the distance, that old familiar sound. But now it sounds much closer, much more threatening, much more deadly. It’s the sound of rocks smashing together in a terrible path of destruction as they roll down upon your pathetically fragile scissors, and I’m about to go Keith Richards on your ass. What cruel twist of fate – the rock that you so confidently prepared against is now blind siding you. How quickly things change…how quickly…the rocks roll.

You have to pick your fights. Lose the battle to win the war. Give them Coventry to take Berlin. Okay, you can ride shotgun, you get the last pork chop, I’ll wash the dishes this time. But when our plane crashes in the Yukon and we need to decide who will sacrifice their left arm as nourishment to keep us alive until we are rescued…don’t be surprised when the Avalanche comes late.

And after all…you only really need one arm to play rock-paper-scissors.

Imagine that you could save a family by sacrificing a child…
…but that you had to explain it to the child.

What would you say?