Epistemology, my ass...
I know everything. I am an unlimited fountain of information, a veritable library of fact and fiction, knowledge and explanation. Hit me with a question and I'll come back atcha, answer in tow, checked, verified and set in stone. Throw me a curve ball, crack the cement and I'll come rolling back into view, side-winding a bit, but newly updated and ready to go.
Just gimme a little time – that's all I ask.
In reality, I'm a lot dumber than many of you may think. If you met me in person, there's very few subjects I could espouse on as clearly and with as much knowledge as I manage to achieve with the written word. On the tails of a comment in one of my latest posts (SoKP) I come to you with this, for the simple act of demonstrating the illusion this medium allows all of us.
Don't be insulted. I know most of you out there are already quite aware of this, but there are some – a select class of people I'm guessing who hold the same talent for clear, articulated verbosity in person as they demonstrate on this site – that might assume that what they find on the page reflects the reality of the person doing the writing. I am envious of these people. This belief clearly speaks of that talent, and I do not hold enough credentials to be eligible for membership in their club. I long ago stopped forcing full volumes of dry, fact-based information down my proverbial throat in the hopes that I could become one of the 'well-read' – those people who have the ability to pull out an undeniable and upper crust knowledge of most any topic and take the debate to a higher level whenever they see fit, eliminating, enthralling and sometimes angering the so-called 'common folk' they leave behind.
No, those people are a rare breed it seems, and their brains function in a manner I'm sure I'll never possess. So I took the easy way out – writing. I mean, that's what it's all about isn't it? Disambiguity. Giving the general public the idea that you know exactly what you're talking about, that you're an expert on whatever given subject you're covering and they have absolutely no reason to doubt you. From 1984 to Dr. Strangelove, it's the same idea; from the petroglyphs to the first town-criers to the invention of the printing press in 1439, we're simply here to give you what you want, help ease your minds and back your beliefs, even if it's us who created those beliefs in the first place. You don't need to know that we really don't know what we're talking about.
I'm doing it right now. I've never seen Dr. Strangelove and I've only read the Coles Notes version of 1984 in grade ten. The date of the invention of the printing press I just looked up online two minutes ago, and who knows how reliable that is. Then again, I could be lying through my teeth – maybe 1984's my favourite book, and I can quote Dr. Strangelove verbatim. That's not the point. The point is making it sound believable. Like any good actor, I'm seventeen feet tall on screen, or I don't exist at all. You may know my face but goddamit you forget when you're sitting in that seat, white-knuckled and dry-mouthed, waiting for the next line.
Maybe I'm breaking the fourth wall doing this. Maybe a team of top-dog secret-op Media Men are going to kick down the door to my house and murder me in my sleep tonight, but somehow I doubt it. Until then, I'm just gonna keep on making-believe.
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