Moral superiority is a junk bond
A good foot rub beats moral superiority hands down, which suggests to me we spend entirely too much time up in our heads. That said, I’m not sure what we’re doing up in our heads, but I know it’s drafty, musty and cluttered up there.
I’m thinking of our chattering, clattering society. Talk radio, with its sick nastiness, and the torrent of e-mails that hourly lie, slander, distort, misrepresent and incite. Surely a reassuring pat on the back, a massage, hot tub, a run around the block are all preferable to high dudgeon and the cheap pleasures of being right.
One of the biggest surprises old age has had in store for me is the zero value of being right. It doesn’t make me feel good, it has no trade-in value, it doesn’t keep me warm and it’s not as interesting as a good book.
So why does this tawdry pleasure occupy such an exalted place in our society? Why is moral superiority from the pulpit, the rostrum and the mike so sought after? Don’t we all like people who are wrong more than people who are right? Who likes the morally superior, anyway? They’re thundering bores.
But will we remember how much we dislike them the next time we hear some fat head affirm our fondest misconceptions and myths? Ask me tomorrow. My feet hurt tonight. —DM
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