"How long do you intend to walk the earth?"
"Until God puts me where he wants me to be."
"What if he never does?"
"If it takes forever, I'll wait forever."
--from Pulp Fiction
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Nothing Much
I was a little bit zombie-like today, seeing as how I worked from 6pm-2am yesterday. I tried very hard to sleep in this morning, by which I mean that I didn't want to get up before noon if I could help it. Unfortunately, I woke up around 9am. Sigh...
And of course Leo regaled me with his usual unwelcome shrieking when I came downstairs for breakfast. (I really cannot describe how much I hate that bird.)
But things improved when I took the time to lie out in the sun for awhile.
Work was ok. Not too busy, actually, but that was good since being a zombie is not really conducive to dealng with hordes of customers. I did have one odd experience, however. An old woman and (I assume) her granddaughter came up to the register while I was working it and I asked (as I usually do), "How are you today?" and the old lady said, "Not so good." So I asked why, and she said, "Because you are going to take all my money." Ah, I thought, a joker. Well, I'll play along. But she was too much for me in the end. She was not by any means senile, but she was definitely a little strange. She said, apropos of nothing that I could tell, "So are you going to invite me over for dinner?" I laughed and said, "Trust me, your day won't get better if I cook for you." She said, "Don't you know how to cook?" and I said, "Not very well." Then she told me that she was German, which meant she was a wonderful cook. I didn't know what to say to that.
It was all a little tangential, if you ask me.
But the best part was at the end, when she leaned over the counter and said in a low voice, looking intently at me, "I'm looking for sex."
I nearly choked.
"Um, I can't really help you with that," I said when I had recovered.
"Do you know what sex is?"
"Yes."
"You do?"
She was staring at me, and suddenly I wasn't so sure. "I think so."
"What is it?"
Ok, so it's not often that someone manages to render me speechless, but this was definitely one of those occasions. If I recall correctly, my exact words in response to her persistent query were, "uuuuhhhh, hmmmm, uuuuhhh." Not my wittiest hour, to say the least.
Then she told me that my mind was in the gutter and she was referring to her dog. "His name is Sex, and I am looking for him," she said. Ooooooh!
Of course it was a joke. It's just not the sort of joke that I imagine an 80-year-old woman saying, that's all. Kind of threw me off, just a little bit.
But it definitely gave me my good laugh for the day.
And of course Leo regaled me with his usual unwelcome shrieking when I came downstairs for breakfast. (I really cannot describe how much I hate that bird.)
But things improved when I took the time to lie out in the sun for awhile.
Work was ok. Not too busy, actually, but that was good since being a zombie is not really conducive to dealng with hordes of customers. I did have one odd experience, however. An old woman and (I assume) her granddaughter came up to the register while I was working it and I asked (as I usually do), "How are you today?" and the old lady said, "Not so good." So I asked why, and she said, "Because you are going to take all my money." Ah, I thought, a joker. Well, I'll play along. But she was too much for me in the end. She was not by any means senile, but she was definitely a little strange. She said, apropos of nothing that I could tell, "So are you going to invite me over for dinner?" I laughed and said, "Trust me, your day won't get better if I cook for you." She said, "Don't you know how to cook?" and I said, "Not very well." Then she told me that she was German, which meant she was a wonderful cook. I didn't know what to say to that.
It was all a little tangential, if you ask me.
But the best part was at the end, when she leaned over the counter and said in a low voice, looking intently at me, "I'm looking for sex."
I nearly choked.
"Um, I can't really help you with that," I said when I had recovered.
"Do you know what sex is?"
"Yes."
"You do?"
She was staring at me, and suddenly I wasn't so sure. "I think so."
"What is it?"
Ok, so it's not often that someone manages to render me speechless, but this was definitely one of those occasions. If I recall correctly, my exact words in response to her persistent query were, "uuuuhhhh, hmmmm, uuuuhhh." Not my wittiest hour, to say the least.
Then she told me that my mind was in the gutter and she was referring to her dog. "His name is Sex, and I am looking for him," she said. Ooooooh!
Of course it was a joke. It's just not the sort of joke that I imagine an 80-year-old woman saying, that's all. Kind of threw me off, just a little bit.
But it definitely gave me my good laugh for the day.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Playing God
For those of you who have had an insatiable desire to play God but have been frustrated by your lack of omnipotence, your prayers have been answered with the recent release of the droolingly anticipated Sims 2.
For those of you who haven't the slightest idea what I'm talking about, I'm referring to a computer game wherein you, as the player, essentially are given the power to create a family from scratch, right down to determining their DNA. Then you get to watch them grow, live, and die. You can fulfill their dreams (which of course you probably have to define for them first), or you can crush their hopes and deny their desires at every turn. You can lead them into the morally murky territory of extreme living, or you can make sure they have the goody-two-shoes-white-picket-fence-3.5 kids-and-a-dog life. The possibilities are endless!
And so, of course, are the ironies.
I read a couple of reviews of the game online. One person wrote,
I love the fact that interpersonal relations is much more advanced, and I love the fact that they grow up, learn, live, love, and die. makes you want to accomplish as much as you can in the time you have.
The same person wrote that they spent "80% of [their] freshman year of college playing the original sims." Hmmm.
Naturally I am hardly one to point a finger at people for wasting valuable time on this planet. I write a blog, after all, AND I usually do it when I have something else that I'm supposed to be doing. Like right now. (Never mind what I'm supposed to be doing, the point is I'm not doing it.)
I'm more interested in the philosophical implications of a game where players finally get to "live" the dream of Bruce Almighty. Sims 2 bolsters, or rather caters to, our need to feel like we have some sort of control over our lives. Oh, we have control over some things, of course. I am in control over what clothes I decide to put on in the morning, or whether or not I will eat ice cream for breakfast. I think. But the deeper things lie beyond our reach. (Personally, I've found that there is nothing like unrequited love for shattering the illusion of control into a million jagged pieces, but maybe that's just me.)
So actually I can kind of understand why a game like Sims 2 would be attractive, because we have our Sims to live the lives we wish we could live for ourselves. And on some level, the popularity of the game suggests that it's a way of expressing our collective disappointment with a God who, let's face it, seems at times to block our dreams, manipulate our existence, and let us down when we need Him most, at least according to our perspective on this side of the supernatural divide.
I'm not saying this is true. But perspective, while it isn't truth in itself (as I said in an earlier post), is a powerful force for all that.
Right now, for instance, I am perceiving that 1) I am tired of thinking, 2) it's a nice day outside, 3) I have work to do that isn't getting done the longer I write this. And so all my perceptions added together lead me to the truth that I need to post this and be done with it, or I will be sorry later.
Until next time, then...
For those of you who haven't the slightest idea what I'm talking about, I'm referring to a computer game wherein you, as the player, essentially are given the power to create a family from scratch, right down to determining their DNA. Then you get to watch them grow, live, and die. You can fulfill their dreams (which of course you probably have to define for them first), or you can crush their hopes and deny their desires at every turn. You can lead them into the morally murky territory of extreme living, or you can make sure they have the goody-two-shoes-white-picket-fence-3.5 kids-and-a-dog life. The possibilities are endless!
And so, of course, are the ironies.
I read a couple of reviews of the game online. One person wrote,
I love the fact that interpersonal relations is much more advanced, and I love the fact that they grow up, learn, live, love, and die. makes you want to accomplish as much as you can in the time you have.
The same person wrote that they spent "80% of [their] freshman year of college playing the original sims." Hmmm.
Naturally I am hardly one to point a finger at people for wasting valuable time on this planet. I write a blog, after all, AND I usually do it when I have something else that I'm supposed to be doing. Like right now. (Never mind what I'm supposed to be doing, the point is I'm not doing it.)
I'm more interested in the philosophical implications of a game where players finally get to "live" the dream of Bruce Almighty. Sims 2 bolsters, or rather caters to, our need to feel like we have some sort of control over our lives. Oh, we have control over some things, of course. I am in control over what clothes I decide to put on in the morning, or whether or not I will eat ice cream for breakfast. I think. But the deeper things lie beyond our reach. (Personally, I've found that there is nothing like unrequited love for shattering the illusion of control into a million jagged pieces, but maybe that's just me.)
So actually I can kind of understand why a game like Sims 2 would be attractive, because we have our Sims to live the lives we wish we could live for ourselves. And on some level, the popularity of the game suggests that it's a way of expressing our collective disappointment with a God who, let's face it, seems at times to block our dreams, manipulate our existence, and let us down when we need Him most, at least according to our perspective on this side of the supernatural divide.
I'm not saying this is true. But perspective, while it isn't truth in itself (as I said in an earlier post), is a powerful force for all that.
Right now, for instance, I am perceiving that 1) I am tired of thinking, 2) it's a nice day outside, 3) I have work to do that isn't getting done the longer I write this. And so all my perceptions added together lead me to the truth that I need to post this and be done with it, or I will be sorry later.
Until next time, then...
Monday, June 27, 2005
You've Got That Puuukey Feeeeeeling (AKA Ugh, It's Monday)
Ok, today I am too lazy to think of my own funny story to share, and feeling too shallow to dredge up anything deep. So with his permission, I am borrowing a story from my friend SB. It is about barfing, so if you have a weak stomach, maybe you shouldn't read it. And if you are Mark H, you probably shouldn't read it either, because you have heard it ten billion trillion times, and I can SEE you rolling your eyes from here. If you are me, you have definitely heard the story more than once, but it still makes you laugh, because 1) you grew up with three brothers, so you actually find humor in barf stories, and 2) it doesn't take all that much to amuse you.
Anyway, the following is an actual transcript of the IM conversation that SB had with the cowgirl awhile back, in which at my suggestion he told her all about the time he...well, I'll let them tell it! I've edited the transcript for readability and length, but otherwise pretty much left it in their own words and style.
Enjoy, and have a great Monday! (Or maybe this post will give you an exuse to call in sick, ha!)
COWGIRL.: grackyfrogg wants you to tell me about your story when you barfed on a kid you were babysitting
SB: oh yeah, well i was baby sitting these 2 brothers and as part of the deal the parents fed me dinner with the boys. normally, as was the case in this incident, i was fed a Swanson Hungry Man Salisbury Steak dinner.
SB: with a LARGE glass of choco milk
SB: nestle quik actually
COWGIRL.: say no more!!! ha ha ha
SB: SO, the younger brother, J, says to the older brother, P, "P, you're this *insert loud belch here*" and then runs out of the room
SB: so P, not wanting to be upstaged by his younger pipsqueak brother, needs to come back at him, BUT lacks the ability to burp on command
SB: thats where SB comes in
SB: ive been blessed with that amazing gift
COWGIRL.: ha ha ha
COWGIRL.: how romantic!
SB: so P says "hey SB, you can burp whenever you want, so you burp for me" and then we devised this plan. you see J was out on the front lawn just running around, satisfied that his bro had been upstaged, so our plan was to go to the corner of the garage and P would face J while I hid directly behind P
COWGIRL.: uh oh
SB: so we start to get into position and meanwhile im swallowing large amounts of air to get ready for the big explosion
COWGIRL.: LOL
SB: so we're in position and P says, "J, youre THIS!"
COWGIRL.: oh no!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
SB: and at that point i opened my mouth and pushed the air out as normal
SB: but this time MORE than air came out
COWGIRL.: ew grooooooooossssssssss!!!!!!!!!!!
COWGIRL.: grackyfrogg is dying right here
COWGIRL.: that is totally funny!
COWGIRL.: not just partially...but TOTALLY!
SB: yep, salisbury steak and choco milk, and other stuff, including CORN, spewed out all over P's back
COWGIRL.: corn in the puke...yuk
COWGIRL.: that's the epitome of gross
SB: yeah, and i dont even think the meal included corn
SB: anyhoo, P just stood there frozen in position and said "there is something warm all over my back"
SB: i said, oh sorry i just threw up all over you
COWGIRL.: so nonchalant?
SB: so being the good baby sitter that i was i just walked him a few steps out into the drive way and hosed him off
COWGIRL.: how old was this kid?
SB: he was like 10
SB: i went to his college grad a couple of years ago and he still remembers that story and tells all his friends
COWGIRL.: how old were you at the time
SB: um like 20
COWGIRL.: 20 yrs old????
SB: yeah
COWGIRL.: I can't BELIEVE that!
SB: you dont know me very well then
SB: thats something id probably do now
COWGIRL.: its gotta be published or something
SB: there is prob a reason i dont have any kids
Anyway, the following is an actual transcript of the IM conversation that SB had with the cowgirl awhile back, in which at my suggestion he told her all about the time he...well, I'll let them tell it! I've edited the transcript for readability and length, but otherwise pretty much left it in their own words and style.
Enjoy, and have a great Monday! (Or maybe this post will give you an exuse to call in sick, ha!)
COWGIRL.: grackyfrogg wants you to tell me about your story when you barfed on a kid you were babysitting
SB: oh yeah, well i was baby sitting these 2 brothers and as part of the deal the parents fed me dinner with the boys. normally, as was the case in this incident, i was fed a Swanson Hungry Man Salisbury Steak dinner.
SB: with a LARGE glass of choco milk
SB: nestle quik actually
COWGIRL.: say no more!!! ha ha ha
SB: SO, the younger brother, J, says to the older brother, P, "P, you're this *insert loud belch here*" and then runs out of the room
SB: so P, not wanting to be upstaged by his younger pipsqueak brother, needs to come back at him, BUT lacks the ability to burp on command
SB: thats where SB comes in
SB: ive been blessed with that amazing gift
COWGIRL.: ha ha ha
COWGIRL.: how romantic!
SB: so P says "hey SB, you can burp whenever you want, so you burp for me" and then we devised this plan. you see J was out on the front lawn just running around, satisfied that his bro had been upstaged, so our plan was to go to the corner of the garage and P would face J while I hid directly behind P
COWGIRL.: uh oh
SB: so we start to get into position and meanwhile im swallowing large amounts of air to get ready for the big explosion
COWGIRL.: LOL
SB: so we're in position and P says, "J, youre THIS!"
COWGIRL.: oh no!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
SB: and at that point i opened my mouth and pushed the air out as normal
SB: but this time MORE than air came out
COWGIRL.: ew grooooooooossssssssss!!!!!!!!!!!
COWGIRL.: grackyfrogg is dying right here
COWGIRL.: that is totally funny!
COWGIRL.: not just partially...but TOTALLY!
SB: yep, salisbury steak and choco milk, and other stuff, including CORN, spewed out all over P's back
COWGIRL.: corn in the puke...yuk
COWGIRL.: that's the epitome of gross
SB: yeah, and i dont even think the meal included corn
SB: anyhoo, P just stood there frozen in position and said "there is something warm all over my back"
SB: i said, oh sorry i just threw up all over you
COWGIRL.: so nonchalant?
SB: so being the good baby sitter that i was i just walked him a few steps out into the drive way and hosed him off
COWGIRL.: how old was this kid?
SB: he was like 10
SB: i went to his college grad a couple of years ago and he still remembers that story and tells all his friends
COWGIRL.: how old were you at the time
SB: um like 20
COWGIRL.: 20 yrs old????
SB: yeah
COWGIRL.: I can't BELIEVE that!
SB: you dont know me very well then
SB: thats something id probably do now
COWGIRL.: its gotta be published or something
SB: there is prob a reason i dont have any kids
Friday, June 24, 2005
Rainbow Watching
This morning I walked through a rainbow.
I woke up early because I am meeting a friend for coffee and I felt the need for some exercise beforehand. I live in a great neighborhood for walking–wide streets lined by lots of trees, rosebushes, and flouncing summery blooms.
About a half mile or so from my house is a botanical gardens. On the broad lawn outside the gates, right by the street, the sprinklers were watering the grass. The sprinklers are set to arc high and through their downward mist I could see a bright, intensely-colored rainbow. As I drew closer, I couldn't stop looking at it, and somehow (a trick of perspective, I'm sure) the rainbow grew until it was a perfect circle and I was right in the middle of it.
I was also too close to the sprinkler, and next thing I knew I was all wet.
But I didn't mind; I laughed. It was a good way to start the day.
Have a great weekend, everyone, and hey, look around for some rainbows. You never know.
Seek and ye shall find...
I woke up early because I am meeting a friend for coffee and I felt the need for some exercise beforehand. I live in a great neighborhood for walking–wide streets lined by lots of trees, rosebushes, and flouncing summery blooms.
About a half mile or so from my house is a botanical gardens. On the broad lawn outside the gates, right by the street, the sprinklers were watering the grass. The sprinklers are set to arc high and through their downward mist I could see a bright, intensely-colored rainbow. As I drew closer, I couldn't stop looking at it, and somehow (a trick of perspective, I'm sure) the rainbow grew until it was a perfect circle and I was right in the middle of it.
I was also too close to the sprinkler, and next thing I knew I was all wet.
But I didn't mind; I laughed. It was a good way to start the day.
Have a great weekend, everyone, and hey, look around for some rainbows. You never know.
Seek and ye shall find...
Thursday, June 23, 2005
And This Is How I Feel
The quest for faith is a lunar endeavor
Not warmer and brighter but darker and wetter
I trudge and I slip as I reach out for daylight
But grasp only fistfuls of night.
I wonder is doubt the way of faith sometimes
I try to move it aside, but never leave it behind
Balancing the weight of the state I'm in
On the head of a pin.
But I'm tired of being afraid
That I might slip away
Some day walk away
And fall down...
--Five O'Clock People, "Lunar", from their album The Nothing Venture
Not warmer and brighter but darker and wetter
I trudge and I slip as I reach out for daylight
But grasp only fistfuls of night.
I wonder is doubt the way of faith sometimes
I try to move it aside, but never leave it behind
Balancing the weight of the state I'm in
On the head of a pin.
But I'm tired of being afraid
That I might slip away
Some day walk away
And fall down...
--Five O'Clock People, "Lunar", from their album The Nothing Venture
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
The Empire Strikes Out; or, Why Fiction Needs Truth These Days
A couple years ago, I began to notice a change in myself that disturbed me exceedingly: I'd go into my favorite bookstore, or any bookstore, and I would look around at all the shelves and instead of breathing a deep happy sigh and getting to work browsing and eventually buying, I would roll my eyes and breathe a heavy, unsatisfied sigh and walk out again empty-handed. Maybe I would poke around in the fiction section for awhile, picking up a book here and there, looking at the cover wearily and then sliding it back without bothering even to leaf through the pages.
What had happened to me? What was wrong?!
Well, kudos to The Daily Pepper for an excellent and hilarious article attempting to answer the question I was secretly asking myself, hardly daring to utter aloud for fear my whole identity would come crashing down around me. The title of the post is:
"The Goat in the Hot Tub; or, Why Fiction Is So Boring These Days."
Pepper's writing is witty and insightful, and I think everyone should give the article a read--I promise you'll be entertained. However, I did have to disagree with Pepper's ultimate conclusion, which is that class conflict is the real driving force behind fiction, and where class conflict is absent, then the fiction will be boring.
I think fiction in general has become boring because, philosophically speaking, our modern, or post-modern, or post-de-constructionist-anti-modern-nihilistic-existentialism (whatever you want to call it) society has deemed absolutes as out of style, and has instead opted to decorate in any amount of shades of gray. Where there are no absolutes, it really is difficult to find a logical, rational basis for the existence of truth. And where truth does not exist, any struggle between good and evil becomes academic, arbitrary, and not a little pointless. We are left with what I'll call (if Pepper doesn't mind) the Genevieve effect, described by Pepper as follows:
"There's way too much stuff like this out there: 'Genevieve wished she could say something to Martha, but Martha always seemed so absent ... Genevieve fumbled with her teacup, sensing an ocean of distance between herself and her mother.' Add a few more pages of Genevieve searching for answers inside her teacup, and you've got what's hot in fiction today."
I am reminded of a scene from The Empire Strikes Back, where the wise old Jedi Obi-Wan (well, actually his ghost, because he was dead at that point...or maybe he wasn't dead, but ANYWAY, he was transparent)--anyway, Obi-Wan tells Luke that one of these days he's gonna have to wake up and realize that truth "depends largely on one's point of view."
And there it is. The answer to the problem of what's inside Genevieve's teacup--nothing at all. It's empty, and so is the story. That's because there are no absolutes, there is no truth, to give meaning to anything anymore. They aren't there, because everyone has a different point of view. Where knowledge is only experiential, it's difficult to know anything, because everyone will always know something different! How can we function?
Well, the fact is, we can't, and it's interesting to look at the Star Wars story again and see that neither Obi-Wan nor Luke actually lived and acted according to their philosophy. Because if truth really does depend on point of view, who is to say that Darth Vader was actually wrong? Perhaps he was operating according to the truth that he perceived, and just because it differed from Luke's or anyone else's did not mean it wasn't truth. So the battle against the Empire--and Luke's continued assertion to Vader that he "feels the good" in him--was simply nothing more than a "my ideology is better than your ideology" sandbox rumble without any well-constructed, rational basis for either side.
And yet, countless fans cheer them on in the struggle. Why? Because it's compelling fiction. And what makes it compelling is not that there is a difference in Luke's and Vader's class status; it's the fact that, regardless of what they may say out loud, both Obi-Wan and Luke and all their friends obviously believe very much in the existence of good, and the existence of evil, and that good is worth fighting for simply because it is good and right. And the audience believes it too!
I mean, let's try to imagine the Star Wars story if it were written in our Genevieve model, abbreviated:
Obi-Wan: "Luke, truth doesn't really exist. It's all about how you feel on any given day. It's all about point of view."
Luke (pulls out his light saber and stares at it gloomily): "Then why did you give me this? What is my purpose in life?"
Obi-Wan: "I don't think anyone really has any, son. Sorry to break it to you."
[A moment of silence, punctuated only by the sound of water dripping in the rain forest and Luke's whimpering. Obi-Wan looks at his watch and yawns. Finally Luke speaks what is on his mind.]
Luke (whining petulantly): "Maybe I should just kill myself!"
Obi-Wan: "Well, I thought it might be a good idea to kill Vader instead."
Luke: "Why?"
Obi-Wan (shrugging): "No reason really. Something to pass the time though. Have you got any tea?"
Now there's a box office smash.
Look, the audience gets drawn in because in our collective consciousness (wherever that may be), the audience knows that Obi-Wan is way off the mark this time. They know that truth is out there, because Fox Mulder believes in it and he is, after all, way cuter than Obi-Wan.
(Sorry, couldn't resist!)
So, fiction needs truth if it is going to survive, and that means it needs absolutes, and that means that we need them too. I think fiction will help us find truth if it will get back to the job of actually looking for it. Hey, it beats navel-gazing, eh, Pepper? Not to mention countless cups of tea.
What had happened to me? What was wrong?!
Well, kudos to The Daily Pepper for an excellent and hilarious article attempting to answer the question I was secretly asking myself, hardly daring to utter aloud for fear my whole identity would come crashing down around me. The title of the post is:
"The Goat in the Hot Tub; or, Why Fiction Is So Boring These Days."
Pepper's writing is witty and insightful, and I think everyone should give the article a read--I promise you'll be entertained. However, I did have to disagree with Pepper's ultimate conclusion, which is that class conflict is the real driving force behind fiction, and where class conflict is absent, then the fiction will be boring.
I think fiction in general has become boring because, philosophically speaking, our modern, or post-modern, or post-de-constructionist-anti-modern-nihilistic-existentialism (whatever you want to call it) society has deemed absolutes as out of style, and has instead opted to decorate in any amount of shades of gray. Where there are no absolutes, it really is difficult to find a logical, rational basis for the existence of truth. And where truth does not exist, any struggle between good and evil becomes academic, arbitrary, and not a little pointless. We are left with what I'll call (if Pepper doesn't mind) the Genevieve effect, described by Pepper as follows:
"There's way too much stuff like this out there: 'Genevieve wished she could say something to Martha, but Martha always seemed so absent ... Genevieve fumbled with her teacup, sensing an ocean of distance between herself and her mother.' Add a few more pages of Genevieve searching for answers inside her teacup, and you've got what's hot in fiction today."
I am reminded of a scene from The Empire Strikes Back, where the wise old Jedi Obi-Wan (well, actually his ghost, because he was dead at that point...or maybe he wasn't dead, but ANYWAY, he was transparent)--anyway, Obi-Wan tells Luke that one of these days he's gonna have to wake up and realize that truth "depends largely on one's point of view."
And there it is. The answer to the problem of what's inside Genevieve's teacup--nothing at all. It's empty, and so is the story. That's because there are no absolutes, there is no truth, to give meaning to anything anymore. They aren't there, because everyone has a different point of view. Where knowledge is only experiential, it's difficult to know anything, because everyone will always know something different! How can we function?
Well, the fact is, we can't, and it's interesting to look at the Star Wars story again and see that neither Obi-Wan nor Luke actually lived and acted according to their philosophy. Because if truth really does depend on point of view, who is to say that Darth Vader was actually wrong? Perhaps he was operating according to the truth that he perceived, and just because it differed from Luke's or anyone else's did not mean it wasn't truth. So the battle against the Empire--and Luke's continued assertion to Vader that he "feels the good" in him--was simply nothing more than a "my ideology is better than your ideology" sandbox rumble without any well-constructed, rational basis for either side.
And yet, countless fans cheer them on in the struggle. Why? Because it's compelling fiction. And what makes it compelling is not that there is a difference in Luke's and Vader's class status; it's the fact that, regardless of what they may say out loud, both Obi-Wan and Luke and all their friends obviously believe very much in the existence of good, and the existence of evil, and that good is worth fighting for simply because it is good and right. And the audience believes it too!
I mean, let's try to imagine the Star Wars story if it were written in our Genevieve model, abbreviated:
Obi-Wan: "Luke, truth doesn't really exist. It's all about how you feel on any given day. It's all about point of view."
Luke (pulls out his light saber and stares at it gloomily): "Then why did you give me this? What is my purpose in life?"
Obi-Wan: "I don't think anyone really has any, son. Sorry to break it to you."
[A moment of silence, punctuated only by the sound of water dripping in the rain forest and Luke's whimpering. Obi-Wan looks at his watch and yawns. Finally Luke speaks what is on his mind.]
Luke (whining petulantly): "Maybe I should just kill myself!"
Obi-Wan: "Well, I thought it might be a good idea to kill Vader instead."
Luke: "Why?"
Obi-Wan (shrugging): "No reason really. Something to pass the time though. Have you got any tea?"
Now there's a box office smash.
Look, the audience gets drawn in because in our collective consciousness (wherever that may be), the audience knows that Obi-Wan is way off the mark this time. They know that truth is out there, because Fox Mulder believes in it and he is, after all, way cuter than Obi-Wan.
(Sorry, couldn't resist!)
So, fiction needs truth if it is going to survive, and that means it needs absolutes, and that means that we need them too. I think fiction will help us find truth if it will get back to the job of actually looking for it. Hey, it beats navel-gazing, eh, Pepper? Not to mention countless cups of tea.
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