Surrounded by morons

Nicole questions whether she can remain committed to tossing up the occasional bon mot for our reading and dancing pleasure:

I’m not sure I’m going to keep up with this blog on a steady basis. At least for the next few months. I find that I have lost things to say that anyone would find interesting. I’m increasingly less hopeful for a return to a semblance of sanity in the general populace and there’s really no point in discussing anything with people who already have the narrative they want to believe set in their heads. If you are so scared of life that you have to cling to your world view despite proven facts, then I don’t need to waste time talking to you. I don’t even mean convincing anyone to change their minds about anything. Every discussion doesn’t have to end with both parties agreeing. Simply that it’s a waste of time and breath to try to discuss anything with someone who won’t admit what is real and proven and what isn’t. Belief isn’t the issue for me either. Believe all you want to in things that can’t be proven or disproven. Faith is a personal matter and I hold nothing against you for any faith or belief you have. But when you insist that things are true that patently aren’t, I just don’t see the point in talking to you. Willful ignorance is worse than honest ignorance. Ignorance in pursuit of a political goal is detestable.

That latter reminds me of this Upton Sinclair observation: “It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends upon his not understanding it.” Academic and political grantsmanship — like Janus, a single organism with two faces — demands that you toe the line or not get paid. Most people in this predicament follow the path of least resistance.

Still, frustration with the human race affects different people in different ways. It evidently makes Nicole want to go somewhere else where she won’t encounter all these farging jerks. Me, I’m more the stay-the-course kind of person, although it helps that I’m older than dirt and therefore can remember times when the conventional wisdom was 180 degrees — well, 150 to 210 — away from what it is now, and can remind people of it when necessary. This isn’t a better position, morally or otherwise, but it’s the one that’s most compatible with what’s inside me: I was a didact when didacticism wasn’t cool.





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