No More Mr Nice Guy
Reader, I have of late (wherefore I know not) lost my nice guy image. Well, I say of late - it has been a gradual process throughout my twenties.
I used to be considered a fairly nice chap, but in reality I was just misunderstood. There's always been a rage against everything bubbling away under the surface, but when I was younger, I cared enough to hide it. Now I'm not arsed.
But who is the truly nice guy? Is it the pusillanimous milquetoast who hasn't the nerve to hold an opinion? Or is it he who cares enough be angry about the wrong in the world? (Thrill at that two-fisted rhetoric!)
Of course, the answer is the latter. If I'm angry at the way Waterstones massage the intellectual egos of their customers by encouraging them to think that reading a book makes them a cut above the proles, it's because I care about literature. If I'm furious about bland TV, it's because I care passionately about the medium. If I'm blacking out with rage at the pretentiousness of bottom-feeding indie bands, it's becuase I give a shit about music. I care enough to be furious.
On the other hand, it may well just be that I'm bitter. It could be said that life has, in customer service speak, failed to manage my expectations. What exactly do I expect from people? Many people are happy to let their intellectual needs be catered for by the Richard & Judy Book Club - who am I to criticise or deride?
It's a fair point. I wouldn't blast these people to their face. I haven't the right nor the temerity. However, you're in my gaff now. My blog, my rules. Herein you get to peer into the raging storm behind my eyes. The rules of polite social conduct don't apply.
Or maybe I'm just being sarcastic. Maybe I'm being ironic. Who can tell? What do YOU think? Comment below.
I used to be considered a fairly nice chap, but in reality I was just misunderstood. There's always been a rage against everything bubbling away under the surface, but when I was younger, I cared enough to hide it. Now I'm not arsed.
But who is the truly nice guy? Is it the pusillanimous milquetoast who hasn't the nerve to hold an opinion? Or is it he who cares enough be angry about the wrong in the world? (Thrill at that two-fisted rhetoric!)
Of course, the answer is the latter. If I'm angry at the way Waterstones massage the intellectual egos of their customers by encouraging them to think that reading a book makes them a cut above the proles, it's because I care about literature. If I'm furious about bland TV, it's because I care passionately about the medium. If I'm blacking out with rage at the pretentiousness of bottom-feeding indie bands, it's becuase I give a shit about music. I care enough to be furious.
On the other hand, it may well just be that I'm bitter. It could be said that life has, in customer service speak, failed to manage my expectations. What exactly do I expect from people? Many people are happy to let their intellectual needs be catered for by the Richard & Judy Book Club - who am I to criticise or deride?
It's a fair point. I wouldn't blast these people to their face. I haven't the right nor the temerity. However, you're in my gaff now. My blog, my rules. Herein you get to peer into the raging storm behind my eyes. The rules of polite social conduct don't apply.
Or maybe I'm just being sarcastic. Maybe I'm being ironic. Who can tell? What do YOU think? Comment below.
posted by Stephen Beckett at 3:53 AM
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