The perfectibility of banality

September 21st, 2006
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“I just set up my garage organizer closet and put all the loose objects in it.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Perfect!”

Our Stupidism of the Week usually focuses on a language error, but this exchange, overheard on a local radio station during the morning’s commute, created its own sub-category: call it the Banalo-Stupidism of the Week.

It’s banal on so many levels. First off, the paramountcy of personal “feelings”, even concerning something that’s purely practical and, on any level, unimportant. The triumph of our therapeutic culture.

Second, the sheer idiocy of the answer. It’s at once wildly disproportionate and stupendously narcissistic. Again, why would something so trivial make you feel “perfect”? And how presumptuous do you have to be to judge your own situation “perfect”?

The perfectibility of man-, or in this case woman-, kind, indeed. Augustine’s and Aquinas’ graves are overflowing with tears.

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