I wasn’t always an erudite, urban libtard–quite the opposite. I could say things like, “Me and Martin Ballard used t’ rope tie mountain lions up Nuck Woodard Crick,” and although grammatically incorrect, it would be true. That was back in 1962, when my main interests were shooting guns and working on my car. But then I went off to college, where I majored in English, laboring under the delusion that my talent for spelling and diagramming sentences would serve me well. To my astonishment, I quickly learned that English majors are basically bookworms.
I soon became enamored with a fellow English major who was equally astonished to learn I’d spent precious little time in the library. Forget about Chaucer and Alexander Pope, I hadn’t even heard of J. D. Salinger!
She gave me a reading list, which I dutifully followed in hopes of winning her over. But by the time I had worked just halfway through it, she had sadly taken up with another guy. I say “sadly” because I feel sorry for the poor guy, who ended up her husband. I pity him because he’s married to a snob, and snobbery–unlike ignorance–is not treatable.
“The poems to come are for you and for me and are not for mostpeople–it’s no use trying to pretend that mostpeople and ourselves are alike. Mostpeople have less in common with ourselves than the squrerootofminusone. You and I are human beings; mostpeople are snobs. Take the matter of being born. What does it mean to mostpeople? Castrophe unmitigated. Socialrevolution. The cultured aristocrat yanked out of his hyperexclusivelyultravoluptuoussuperpalazzo and dumped into an incredible vulgar detentioncamp swarming with every conceivable species of undesirable organism. Mostpeople fancy a guaranteed birthproof safetysuit of nondestructible selflessness. If mostpeople were to be born twice they’d improbably call it dying–“
That is from an introduction to the collected poems of E. E. Cummings, which was on my ex-girfriend’s required reading list. And to this day it cheers me greatly, thinking back on how I had the great good fortune of having been dumped by a snob in the summer of 1964. I was heartbroken then; however, the years since I took up reading have been good to me. I’ve even written some books–not that anyone I grew up with has ever read one of them. In particular, I’m thinking of a former high school classmate who says he is praying for me.
“…for not liking Elon Musk (and probably not liking the best President (and smartest Presidential Advisor) we’ve ever had!!!”
I take back what I said. In some cases, evidently, ignorance isn’t treatable.