Some time ago, inventor Jay Kahmi’s family went to go see Napoleon Dynamite. The movie had almost nothing going for it. It was set in a suburban Idaho high school. The main character, Napoleon, delivers his lines in a maddeningly slow monotone. His lip always droops slightly to the right. As the family sat uncomfortably in their theater seats, Napoleon walked up to a girl in the cafeteria and said: “I see your drinking 1%, is that because you think you’re fat?”

 Kahmi’s wife walked out of the theater.

 Kahmi, on the other hand, was not so easily frightened off. He actually stayed until the end and then returned to the theater to subject himself to the movie a couple more times. Each time he watched it, it got funnier. Finally, Kahmi “got it.” He became “a fan.” But not just any kind of fan—an inventor fan. He manufactures cute little stuffed mice that say crazy things when you squeeze them. So, when Kahmi became a Napoleon Dynamite fan, it was only a matter of time before he made a talking Napoleon Dynamite talking doll.

 And he did.
 And we have it in our office now.
 And, like the movie, it started out as irritating, but it has become fascinating.

Sometimes when I walk by and push the button, the talking doll will be angry, and it will say, “I wish you’d get out of my life and shut up.” For some reason, I feel as though I have offended it.

Sometimes when I walk by and push the button he doll will say “I’m voting for Pedro Sanchez, who do you think?” I will silently, and for no reason, wish Pedro Sanchez political success.

Sometimes when I walk by and push the button, the talking doll will say “I caught you a delicious bass.” That’s when I know everything will be okay. Whatever the insanity, we must always remember that there is a calm center. There is a delicious bass.

What does it all mean? Everything and nothing. Like the ancient pagan idols, the Napoleon doll has no intrinsic value. It is only a reflection of the culture that built it. Each person who looks at the doll, hesitates, and then presses the button, will interpret what they hear differently. The Napoleon doll, like all great art, is only a mirror that reflects our own fluid identity.

Yes, the doll is a guru. When it says, “Pedro, just listen to your heart. That’s what I do,” it is telling me about the nature of art. When we look at or listen to art, we are actually looking at and listening to ourselves.