Expect Nothing
“Why am I here?” Is a question that I usually ask myself. In a fruitless attempt at finding meaning in the meaningless. Most times, an answer can be found in past decisions made, which are sometimes good, sometimes bad. Tonight it’s a result of one of the “bad”.
Expectation is; I feel the first step taken on a path to disappointment. Apart from the occasional meal at a restaurant that someone recommended. Or maybe a movie that I’ve been waiting to see. There’s not much in life that has ever met mine... and yet I still have these expectations, with disappointment, soon to follow.
Having seen Douglas Murray laying waste to misinformed idealist on various YouTube Channels and debates. With his cutting wit, put-downs and admonishments. I foolishly expected to see more of the same when I went along to watch him speak at a show titled- “unforgettable Conversations”- a misnomer... I would be hard pushed to remember much of anything said if a gun were aimed at my temple.
Sat amongst an audience that laughed at every quip as Murry had a gleeful chat with a guy sporting the biggest quiff seen not since the days of Elvis. Halfway through the proceedings, I realised that watching a conversation play out in front of me has to be one of the more pointless things that I’ve done in life. I’m not averse to watching other people do stuff: sports, concerts or a bit of “stand up comedy”. But if two people talking about Geo Politics or some country’s Broken immigration Policy, the new entertainment... then it’ll be Netflix all the way for me.
I’d hoped for some audience engagement with questions regarding the politics that Murray is known for. But if any of us had a question, we had to log into a website before the show and lay them down there. So some person could cherry pick the least offensive of them all and have it read out by “Quiffy”.
It’s a measure of an event if staying at home to have my ball sack waxed is preferable. An offer that was on the table...lay down by my girlfriend. She feels that I’ve been letting myself go “down there” and was available that night to “take care of things” for me... an opportunity missed!
The age of the “Talking Heads” is upon us! There now exists a Kabal of a certain type whose role in life is to bestow upon an endless diatribe. They are too under the impression that what they say is of great importance. ergo, they are of great in importance, so feel a need to comment on all things, all the time. Like Pro athletes that suffer from chronic injuries- bad knees or tennis elbow or something brought about by doing too much of one thing. There will be repercussions for the talking cohort, there has to be, it’s only fair that they suffer for making us suffer them... some kind of voice box disease or tongue impairment not seen since the days of Greek Philosophisers. Of which I feel that the likes of Sam Harris, Jordan Peterson and Ben Shapiro view themselves as.
If I learned anything from the evening, it’s that being a passive witness to two people having a chat is one of the least interesting things I’ve done and that the next time a famous journalist comes to a “town near me” my balls will be smoother for it.