“Then I gave in and gave up and took up mindless domestic activities.”
How many wives lead the life of a slave?
His dad beat the crap out of him. But I like that neighbor kid. Smart. Knows all the planets in order.
“Saul,” he yells when he sees me. “Do you know what 5 times 20 is?”
I play along and ask what it is. “100” he yells, with a little disgust that I don’t know.
His dad makes him hunt and the little bugger does it, of course. ’cause it’s his dad, you know. But I wonder how long that will last. I escaped the hurt by falling all the way into fantasy world. Which has been impossible to get out of now.
Plus I’m lonely all the time.
I watch the coach’s son and think: as long as the majority of the population are deep in Plato’s cave, sports will have its weird place of worship and idolatry and completeness. Everyone, even the wives, play along. The local paper, the school principal, the students carry on like sport is the only thing that matters. When it matters least. Like everything folks believe, we have repeated the explanation until we all believe it completely. Here’s how it goes: “Young people learn leadership and teamwork and discipline and confidence and love and, oh, every good thing (only) playing sports.”
We don’t say the “only”, but it’s understood.
Of course there is a bit of a problem with the explanation: it’s just not true. No matter how you look at it.