The following is an old post from a discontinued personal blog:
I had something of an apparition during my last Metaphysics class of the semester back in April. Class ended and I found myself confronted with a scene that kept playing over and over again in my mind. Typically, when that happens, I try to make time to write it all down. I then sent it to a friend, to get his opinion since he’s the only real serious writer I know and since he’s currently studying at a top film school. He said he “loved it” it and told me might “pilfer” from it for future scripts. I considered that high praise since I don’t really write this kind of stuff normally.
*****
[Scene: Two longtime friends in their late twenties-early thirties, Cal and Brian sitting eating at a food court at Bellevue Mall, in Seattle WA, or similar upper-class shopping mall in a region of coastal America; Brian [MBTI: ISFJ], an idealistic yet logical and pragmatic associate professor at a local University and Cal [ENTJ], a ‘hot-shot’ venture capitalist. Cal has just come from buying an expensive suit for a new promotion. Brian is absolutely appalled that Cal would be so reckless with his money].
Brian: “You cannot possibly justify a $2000 suit.”
Cal: [Looking nonplussed] “Of course I’m justified.”
Brian: “Let me rephrase that. You don’t need a $2000 suit.”
Cal: “Of course I don’t need it, but what on earth does that have to do with being justified?” [Cal makes a self-satisfied look].
Brian: [Pausing incredulously, attempting to comprehend] “Sometimes I don’t get you, Cal. You have this smug belief that you’ve got it all figured out, and yet when I talk to you, I find all these gaps in your plan for ‘World Domination’ or whatever you think you’re doing here. Like paying next month’s rent for example, instead of buying a $2000 suit. Your problem is you’re deluded. Your self-assurance is your own delusion.”
Cal: “Really? I’m deluded?” [Cal gives a look of slight amusement]
Brian: “Yes, I think you are.”
Cal: “Look around for a second. I want you to count the number of people wearing headphones.”
Brian: “I don’t see—”
Cal: “Just look!”
Brian: [Looks around in the immediate area, then looks behind him] “Ok, so maybe a third of the people.”
Cal: “A third? Look again, it’s nearly half.”
Brian: “Whatever, So what?”
Cal: “So what? [Cal makes an incredulous gasp] Ok, at your 9 o’clock, don’t stare, Subtlety, Man! Ok. The Hispanic family?
Brian: “I see them.”
Cal: “The baby in the high chair?”
Brian: “Ya.”
Cal: “You see how he’s reaching?”
Brian: “For his Dad? Ya.”
Cal: “I didn’t say anything about the Father.” [Cal says carefully]
Brian: “Well he’s obviously—“
Cal: “Forget the Dad. This is the universe.”
Brian: “I’m pretty sure that’s a baby.” [Brian looks amused]
Cal: “You know, it’s bad enough I’ve got to sit here smelling those boiled scallops. Who orders boiled scallops? And now you’re calling me deluded without any substantiation. I’m going to defend myself and you’re going to learn something. Now look!”
Brian: “What’s wrong with my—” [Brian, getting offended, looks down at his plate of seafood]
Cal: “LOOK AT THE BABY!”
Brian: [Sigh] “Yes, yes, the baby, the baby. The little guy wants a French fry. And look, Daddy’s got one for him. Fascinating, but it would probably be more meaningful if Dad was wearing a $2000 suit, huh?” [Brian gives a self-assured smile]
[At the adjacent table: Father talking on his cell phone, puts a French fry in the mouth of the baby with his free hand. The outstretched hand of the baby lowers as he eats. The baby looks around, as if to contemplate something.]
Cal: [Condescending smirk] “You’re a funny guy. No, really you are. Ok right behind me sitting in the booth, the teenage couple.”
Brian: “The Asian girl in the booty shorts?”
Cal: “With the—”
Brian: “Ya, lanky white trash kid in the wife beater.”
Cal: “Right. How old do you think she is?”
Brian: “14-15”
Cal: “And him?”
Brian: “I don’t know 18-19.”
Cal: “Right. Brian, this is the universe. Case closed.”
Brian: “Seriously, that’s your defense?”
Cal: “Do I really need to explain myself?”
Brian: “Are you kidding?”
Cal: “Are you?”[Cal pauses, squints at Brian then sighs] “Look around Brian! Open your eyes! What kind of prospects do you think Booty Shorts has? You think she’s even aware that’s she heading down a path with that stoner?”
Brian: “This has nothing to do with—”
Cal: “The headphones. You think these people are listening to Milton or Tolstoy? You think they’re concerning themselves with foreign issues beyond myopic sound bites and bastardized political philosophy? Do you think they’re learning about commercial real-estate or how to create passive income so they don’t live their whole lives paycheck to paycheck? Do you think they’re learning how to protect their children from bloated government or scam artists?”
Brian: “That has absolutely no bearing on—”
Cal: “Because they’re not, Brian, they’re not. [Cal briefly pauses] How fortunate for leaders that men do not think.”
Brian: “Wait, who said that?”
Cal: “Adolf.”
Brian: “Hitler?”
Cal: “Ya.”
Brian: “No. Ok? No. You’re not doing that. [Points a stern finger as if to stop conversation] Don’t do that.”
Cal: “What?”
Brian: “Call him Adolf.”
Cal: “Why?”
Brian: “That’s weird. Don’t do that.”
Cal: “Why?”
Brian: “Because I don’t like the thought that my best friend since junior high is on a first name basis with Satan’s little brother. Because if that’s the case, I don’t like the prospect of being one degree of separation from that man.”
Cal: “I’m on a first name basis with all the Charismatics.”
Brian: “You know what? I think its megalomania. Seriously, listen to yourself. That’s what you are. You’re beyond delusional. You’re an actual megalomaniac.”
Cal: “Look at the baby, Brian.”
Brian: “THAT DOESN’T MEAN ANYTHING!”
Cal: [Authoritatively] “Look! You sit there and see a child reaching toward his Father; reaching towards a French fry. I see the microcosm for the human condition. That child is exerting all of his mental and physical faculties towards his own advancement; his survival; his ennoblement. He is more mentally and emotionally focused on that activity than you or I have been on anything we’ve attempted in years. And look at his reward. Look at the carelessness of his father. It is only the curse of that poor baby’s circumstance, that in his greatest yearning, the universe is teaching him to choke down a French fry.”
Brian: “You’re unbelievable—”
Cal: “And you’re not listening. This child is being subdued when he could be groomed for greatness, for kinghood. He’s being taught right now, that at his very best, with all of his skills and abilities, the best he’s going to get is grease.”
Brian: “You can’t possibly—“
Cal: “Let me finish. The fact is, by the time he reaches his twelfth birthday, his passions will most likely be so subdued, his ideas so diluted, and his personal expectations so low, he will be nearly unrecognizable from his true identity. In fact, we may never know who this little kid really is. Just look around. Look at our generation. We read nonsensical teen fiction about vampires and call it literature. There are high functioning human beings, our same age, who are serenaded and who genuinely and deeply empathize with the unintelligible music lyrics of Katy Perry and Justin Bieber. We truncate all wisdom to 140 characters on Twitter. The amount of ignorant self-indulgence in this country is stifling. We are a nation of emotional and intellectual gluttons, and I’m the one that’s deluded?”
Brian: “That has no bearing on your wasting money on a suit. And besides, everyone is entitled to their own opinions.”
Cal: “And that’s exactly it. We have this belief that people are all entitled to their opinions. Where did we get this idea?! People are not entitled to their opinions! You have to work for your opinions! You have to pay the price for your opinions! You think Picasso created ugly paintings? Do you really know enough about the context of what you’re talking about? Do you really know enough about his work, or 20th century Cubism, or about art in general? Simply having a brain doesn’t give you permission to speak on its behalf, especially without consulting it first!”
Brian: “And—”
Cal: “AND, what you see as smug self-assurance is just self-awareness. I know about the gluttons. I wake up every morning knowing that the majority of the people I run into are doing their very best not to think; to reason; to dream; to muse. I bank on these imbeciles, and you know what? They bank on me.”
Brian: “But people still have the personal legal freedom to express whatever they want whether it’s thoughtful or not. And you can’t take that away from them!”
Cal: “Of course. They’re also free to order boiled scallops [Cal looks down at Brian’s plate in disgust], or to try clean their clothing in a toilet or take politicians at their word. But they can’t pretend that those activities will ever make any sense.”
Brian: “Again with my food…”
Cal: “So when I go out and buy a $2000 suit it’s not egoistic or impulsive. Its calculated. There are over 100 clients at this firm who each have investments greater than $10 Mill. They need me in that suit. They need symbols of vitality and security. And so does my staff. Their peace of mind is measured by the stiffness of my lapels and the crease in my pants. I do it because our generation has decreed it. We as a society have determined that this suit means that after you go home at night, there will be a hot meal waiting for you, and everything will be ok.”
Brian: “The cynicism of your world is just…unbelievable. And what about the baby then? Is his future pre-determined?”
Cal: [Pauses] “Probably.”
Brian: “You know, your notions of fatalism will be your undoing.”
Cal: “And your misplaced idealism will be yours.”
Brian: “What about having a free will and subscribing to principles that create success? Like the kind of success you’ve had at this firm?”
Cal: “What about it?”
Brian: “Humanity is still vibrant. It’s still real. People are caring and kind, perhaps more so now than ever. We still have our principles.”
Cal: “HA! Principles!? People don’t have principles. Principles require thinking. At best people have incomplete proverbs. More often they rely on bumper-sticker aphorisms.”
Brian: “I pity you, Cal.”
Cal: [Smirking, looking down at the scallops] “I pity your stomach.”