Imagine how it would look if Father Christmas
fell on hard times, if Coca Cola withdrew the sponsorship, or Mrs Christmas had
grown tired of the cycle of 10 months of sloth followed by two months of panic
and had walked out. Or maybe parents had decided to be honest with their kids thus
rendering the old man surplus to requirement. Well, the man on the bus could
well have been a fallen Santa.
The big unkempt beard was more grey than white, the moustache stained yellow with nicotine, the body a shadow of former glory, the trousers now at least two sizes too big, the belt with new notch after new notch. His eyebrows were wild and wonderful, sprouting in all directions.
He certainly was not keeping himself to himself, he was giving a god commentary, commenting on everything and everyone, he chuntered about the women wearing too few clothes, the boys with the low slung jeans, the baby not being protected from the elements, the price of bread, the schoolboy listening to his iPod too loudly and the cleanliness of the bus. You could see most people rolling their eyes, tutting, circling their fingers by their temples signalling this man was crazy.
But who was the crazy one here? Wasn't he voicing what everyone was thinking? The iPod was too loud, the price of bread is too much and the bus did need to be cleaned. As for what people wear well that's their business but I bet you there were people on that bus thinking what he was saying. But he was the crazy one because he said things out loud.
Mitch compared the man with himself, he saw so many similarities, everyday Mitch wrote a diary, a blog, voicing his thoughts in public, not knowing if anyone read it or if anyone cared. Ranting to no audience, but still ranting, giving a god commentary of his own. Okay he didn’t do it on a bus but he did do it on the public transport of the information superhighway. Say it out loud in public and get called crazy, write it out loud in a blog and it’s perfectly normal.
The big unkempt beard was more grey than white, the moustache stained yellow with nicotine, the body a shadow of former glory, the trousers now at least two sizes too big, the belt with new notch after new notch. His eyebrows were wild and wonderful, sprouting in all directions.
He certainly was not keeping himself to himself, he was giving a god commentary, commenting on everything and everyone, he chuntered about the women wearing too few clothes, the boys with the low slung jeans, the baby not being protected from the elements, the price of bread, the schoolboy listening to his iPod too loudly and the cleanliness of the bus. You could see most people rolling their eyes, tutting, circling their fingers by their temples signalling this man was crazy.
But who was the crazy one here? Wasn't he voicing what everyone was thinking? The iPod was too loud, the price of bread is too much and the bus did need to be cleaned. As for what people wear well that's their business but I bet you there were people on that bus thinking what he was saying. But he was the crazy one because he said things out loud.
Mitch compared the man with himself, he saw so many similarities, everyday Mitch wrote a diary, a blog, voicing his thoughts in public, not knowing if anyone read it or if anyone cared. Ranting to no audience, but still ranting, giving a god commentary of his own. Okay he didn’t do it on a bus but he did do it on the public transport of the information superhighway. Say it out loud in public and get called crazy, write it out loud in a blog and it’s perfectly normal.
that was the way that Bertrand Russell was seen in his time. Crazy
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