He enters center stage, flinging the door open and stepping in, arms open wide. He strikes a pose, throws one shoulder back as if to discard an invisible cape, removes his fedora and gives a sweeping bow. In what we refer to as his opera voice, he bids us all a good morning and favors us with a jaw numbing smile. He is one of the cardboard people, announcing his presence and waiting for the applause.
I'm fortunate enough to know very few people with absolutely nothing at all to recommend them. Such people live carefree lives - they work when they please, knowing that their employees will take up the slack. They are untroubled by the weight of intellect, unburdened by the responsibilities of friendship, unfettered by the cost of
maintaining a relationship. They are free to travel at company expense, shop extravagantly, indulge in their addictions - and they will harm no one. They fashion their ethics to fit their current situation and mold their morals to their lifestyle. They smile and speak on cue and if their mark moves, they move with it. They have a great gift for mimicry and can parrot back the latest popular opinion with ease, knowing they'll be be asked no questions about their sincerity. They adopt the latest in style columnist's writings and call it their own. They are constantly performing - their laughter and grand gestures are practiced and polished, probably we think from many long hours in front of a mirror. They are Hollywood props, made from cardboard and face paint, you can pass your hand through the smoke of their substance and not cause a ripple. Such people go through life without being touched or loved - the only hand they hold is their own. The welfare or misfortunes of others sail over them like skimmed stones on a placid pond - if they notice the pain of another at all, it's peripheral and fleeting like the stones as they brush the surface of the water and move on. All the proper and accepted things may be said, but they will be hurried and hollow, like a bad actor with a mediocre script wanting to move on to the next audition.
I want to believe that everything and everyone has a purpose in being here, even the cardboard people. I think that perhaps they're here to remind us not to be like them, to live with some meaning and sincerity, to care about more than ourselves.
I'm fortunate enough to know very few people with absolutely nothing at all to recommend them. Such people live carefree lives - they work when they please, knowing that their employees will take up the slack. They are untroubled by the weight of intellect, unburdened by the responsibilities of friendship, unfettered by the cost of
maintaining a relationship. They are free to travel at company expense, shop extravagantly, indulge in their addictions - and they will harm no one. They fashion their ethics to fit their current situation and mold their morals to their lifestyle. They smile and speak on cue and if their mark moves, they move with it. They have a great gift for mimicry and can parrot back the latest popular opinion with ease, knowing they'll be be asked no questions about their sincerity. They adopt the latest in style columnist's writings and call it their own. They are constantly performing - their laughter and grand gestures are practiced and polished, probably we think from many long hours in front of a mirror. They are Hollywood props, made from cardboard and face paint, you can pass your hand through the smoke of their substance and not cause a ripple. Such people go through life without being touched or loved - the only hand they hold is their own. The welfare or misfortunes of others sail over them like skimmed stones on a placid pond - if they notice the pain of another at all, it's peripheral and fleeting like the stones as they brush the surface of the water and move on. All the proper and accepted things may be said, but they will be hurried and hollow, like a bad actor with a mediocre script wanting to move on to the next audition.
I want to believe that everything and everyone has a purpose in being here, even the cardboard people. I think that perhaps they're here to remind us not to be like them, to live with some meaning and sincerity, to care about more than ourselves.
Or God had an off day and they're really here for comic relief.
No comments:
Post a Comment