Here’s the story of sanity, the information age, anger and the Yellow Pages.
The ebullient nature of my joyful conversations with my goldfish left me abderian in what was only the first stage of madness. Of course, the insane rarely know they’re insane. If anything, the insane may be the sane and the sane insane to sane who are now insane. One could assume all this is fancyframed and stupid. Of course, somebody who’s insane would try to argue their sanity. They don’t know they’re insane but in their insanity, they believe they have sanity making their sanity nothing but a dream of insanity. The key here is the intelligence of one whose mind has gone to a loopy place. Loopville, if you will. But what is intelligence? To be honest with you, I’m not entirely sure. This tangent is hurting my brain. Needless to say, it’s a long and, I’m sure, highly interesting debate. The conclusion? My goldfish is as intelligent as we are. And that debating madness is, actually, the second stage of madness. Loopville just became Looptown.
Of course, for Looptown to become Loopcity and for Loopcity to become Loopprincipality, one must have the inherent knowledge of all things bright and beautiful and the inherent désœvremont to ignore this wisdom. All Things Bright and Beautiful is, of course, an Anglican hymn. Having nothing at all to do with be being a Roman Catholic, I feel it is important to point out the much-forgotten original third verse. ‘The rich man in his castle, the poor man at his gate, he made them high and lowly, he ordered their estate’. That blatant class condescension is despicable and, upon reading that forgotten third verse, made me throw my foie gras sprinkled with caviar in the face of my urchin butler.
I am of course, kidding. If I were poor, I don’t know why I’d be knocking at the door of a rich man. I’d be talking to a goldfish, and that’s insane and something I’ve never done. Ahem. That goldfish imparted so much wisdom to me. As I sat by her tank, she stared and listened to my every word, occasionally opening her mouth. Like a little yawn. I hope it wasn’t a yawn. And, now and again, she’d rise for air. Does that make me insane? Probably. But she listened. Or it could’ve had something to do with the fact that her food was on that side of the tank and she was trying to tell me something.
It was calming. They were bright days. I try not to be an angry person. This isn’t a revelation, I’m hardly bodacious but I try to look on the bright side of life. You have to in this world full of deeds nefandous in nature. But I’ve noticed something. Since that goldfish of mine died, aged ten, swim bladder infection, very sad day, I’ve become a person angry at the little things in life. It’s natural to suggest it could’ve been her. Then again, her death was around the time we got the internet installed, so it could’ve been that.
It got me thinking. Have we all become angrier since the World Wide Web was invented? I was trying to think of occasions in my past when I was really angry. I mean the kind of anger that could tear the Yellow Pages in half. Or the kind of anger where you throw your toothbrush so hard at the wall it enters another dimension. That sort of anger.
I got in a pretty bad fight in school. Ended up in hospital. Nearly lost sight my left eye. He threw mud in my eye. But that was justified anger. I still firmly believe that jackass had the right to a good old-fashioned British arse kicking. I hadn’t snapped like that before. And since? Only once. Some girl threw paint in my eye. Why do people keep throwing things in my eyes? She’s a girl, so I couldn’t get into a fight with her. I pushed her over. I didn’t mean to. She was as light as a feather. Don’t regret it though.
But look at the internet. You are dragged into arguments on forums and on Facebook all the time. People can be so vicious and evil. You become yemeles and turn into one of these people. It’s not an attack on me personally, just a belief or opinion I have. It’s an impossible situation. You be the bigger man, people call you a coward for backing out. You rise to the argument, people call you childish. You try not to get involved, it consumes you until you have no choice but to get involved. What happened to the world I grew up in? Everyone is so angry. For the love of turnips, calm the fudge down!
I remember when I was talking to Maggie, my goldfish. I didn’t feel insane. I didn’t even feel insane when people laughed at me for calling her Maggie. It was witzelsucht, in my opinion. No, it’s nowadays I feel insane. Arguing every five minutes. I absolutely hate hippies, but I’ll give them something. Other than a well deserved slap, of course. They just wanted the world to stop shouting. The rimbombo of the noise of the information superhighway is giving me a headache. And I’m a part of that monster.
Is my mind insane or it is beautiful? The internet is a truly wonderful invention, but I miss the goldfish age. The cybersphere is only a small part of my life. I need some perspective. Maggie is gone but her memory should live on. In my life. A rock. Talking to her was an escape from the insanity. A guiding light, a star from another age. A symbol.
I know Maggie was just a goldfish, but she was my goldfish. That doesn’t make me insane. It makes me human, damn it.
British computer scientist and inventor of the World Wide Web, Sir Tim Berners-Lee (b. 1955), once said: “You affect the world by what you browse”.
Peace Out :|:
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