You’ve heard of schools for scoundrels, at least in the movies. In truth, such training-launching pads exist in virtually every neighborhood. One learns how to be a scoundrel by the proper, or improper, associations with others while growing up. But what about BS?
My ex-girlfriend in Toronto, who is once again switching jobs in the retail industry rather than deal with conniving, nonworking, two-bit BSers who pass themselves off as managers, suggests I open a School for BS so we ordinary Janes and Joes can get ahead. But that’s it–BS is such an exclusive domain that most of us have a revulsion to plying it for financial gain (personal or sexual favors, yes).
However, those who master BS invariably get ahead in this world–and usually stay there. You know, “If the glove doesn’t fit, you must acquit.” That sort of thing. The problem is, I doubt such BSing can be taught. We all know how to fib from time to time, but to make a living out of it requires a certain sort who doesn’t care or realize that what he or she is saying and doing is utter BS.
Can oblivion to oneself be taught? That is the question. Otherwise, BS cannot be taught.
In short, I guess I’ll go on being broke and rejected rather than figure out how to become unconcsious of myself and my sayings and doings. Is there honor in this? Only if you think it’s honorable to die penniless, and therein lies the rub.
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Posted in Almanack Musings |
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