Frankly, my dear, we don’t give a damn
Jesse Dunning can’t even pretend to care
January 23, 2007
Jesse Dunning
People are, by nature, self-centered. It is as much our fault as it is a bird’s fault to fly, a fish’s fault to swim, or a Torontonian’s fault to love the Leafs. We just can’t help it. Take kids for example. They haven’t learned to conceal the evil lurking in their tiny, wicked hearts. For example, little Billy doesn’t care if it’s Timmy’s turn to ride in the front seat. Billy is the centre of the universe, and as far as he is concerned, Timmy is a figment of his imagination – a figment he would gladly roll out the side door of the car if he could get the necessary leverage.
Now, I’m not saying that children are actually evil little conniving monsters. It’s just that other people are essentially automata to satisfy our needs, and it feels really outrageous when they don’t perform that role up to spec. One responsibility of the parents is to beat this self-aggrandizing attitude out of their children. (Note: strictly beating is not always necessary. Thrashing, whipping, and water-boarding are also legitimate forms of education.)
Even by the time we reach university, most of us have only been educated in the bare minimum of formal respect for our fellow man. We know what we’re supposed to do, but we’re not entirely sure why. We’re still like little Billy, wondering why Timmy is hogging the air that God created for us. Coming back from Christmas vacation provides an excellent example of how we can improve our etiquette. I doubt there is a single student here who hasn’t asked, and been asked, a variation on following: “How was your Christmas/break/vacation/New Year/Kwanza/Hanukkah/Ramadan/Wintereenmas/Yule?”
So you ask the question and, God help you, the other person starts to respond! Your eyes instantly begin to glaze over as you try to maintain some kind of eye contact while nodding and “hmming” vaguely. You don’t really want to know about the other person. You only met her, like, that one time, at that dorm date way back in October. You barely even remember her name (though you would guess that it’s Sarah). The only reason you asked the question anyway is because your parents taught (or beat) you into believing that’s what a good boy does. We care too much about our own lives, and not enough about others. That sort of thinking leads to blogging, and that’s terrible. However, that particular aberration deserves an article all its own.
Now would normally be the part where I would print the moral, stern and rousing conclusion, but I don’t think I’ll bother. You get preached to enough in the other sections already. Thanks for reading, and don’t forget to ask people about their Christmas.
Now you go...
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