The Elephant In The Room
We all drank gin and tonics in a jazz club on Ellis, listening to the piano player, talking about Jack Kerouac, the brilliance of On The Road, which I haven't finished, and The Dharma Bums, which I have, ignoring the elephant in the room.
I was thinking today about how we can be so convinced that we are right about something that we can't even conceive of how someone might think differently. Ironically, I boarded this train of thought from a platform of indignation over the memory of how a former friend treated me in what I regarded as an unfair manner. Naturally, it kind of boomeranged around to hit me in the face (here I've switched from a train metaphor to a boomerang metaphor, because a boomerang would be much less painful on the face than a train, or so I would assume).
It was a random memory that caught me off guard. A couple years ago, I ate dinner at John's Grill on Ellis Street, famous for the Maltese Falcon/Dashiell Hammett connection, with a friend of mine, her friend Charlie, and his boyfriend. During the dinner, the boyfriend was talking about his hunting trips to Africa, where he shot at elephants. This made for an uncomfortable conversation, as you might imagine; hence the gin and tonics at the jazz club afterwards.
I admit it. I was thinking to myself, "Hey, you're gay! How can you possibly think it is okay to shoot elephants?"
Well, naturally. If you're gay, I support your rights. I'm on your team. That means you should be on my team. And how could you be on my team if you think it is okay to shoot elephants? Come on, people, don't be crazy.
The human mind is a funny thing. Scary, too, but funny when you look at it objectively. That's where comedy is, maybe, the blind spots in our psychology, the disconnect between our perception and reality.
But I see where I went wrong in my thinking. Gays are totally equal to the rest of us. They are just as capable of shooting elephants as anyone. I'm so sorry for doubting that.
The lesson here is never assume that anyone, not even yourself, is incapable of being a stupid jerk.
I was thinking today about how we can be so convinced that we are right about something that we can't even conceive of how someone might think differently. Ironically, I boarded this train of thought from a platform of indignation over the memory of how a former friend treated me in what I regarded as an unfair manner. Naturally, it kind of boomeranged around to hit me in the face (here I've switched from a train metaphor to a boomerang metaphor, because a boomerang would be much less painful on the face than a train, or so I would assume).
It was a random memory that caught me off guard. A couple years ago, I ate dinner at John's Grill on Ellis Street, famous for the Maltese Falcon/Dashiell Hammett connection, with a friend of mine, her friend Charlie, and his boyfriend. During the dinner, the boyfriend was talking about his hunting trips to Africa, where he shot at elephants. This made for an uncomfortable conversation, as you might imagine; hence the gin and tonics at the jazz club afterwards.
I admit it. I was thinking to myself, "Hey, you're gay! How can you possibly think it is okay to shoot elephants?"
Well, naturally. If you're gay, I support your rights. I'm on your team. That means you should be on my team. And how could you be on my team if you think it is okay to shoot elephants? Come on, people, don't be crazy.
The human mind is a funny thing. Scary, too, but funny when you look at it objectively. That's where comedy is, maybe, the blind spots in our psychology, the disconnect between our perception and reality.
But I see where I went wrong in my thinking. Gays are totally equal to the rest of us. They are just as capable of shooting elephants as anyone. I'm so sorry for doubting that.
The lesson here is never assume that anyone, not even yourself, is incapable of being a stupid jerk.
2 Comments:
Okay, point taken, but the elephant guy was still a jerk ;) I think of that conversation every time I see that place!
Ha ha! The point wasn't intended for you, per se, just me. I remember that night myself. I keep meaning to go back to that jazz club.
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