LIVING WITH MANNERS

6. When someone’s an expert in the topic you’re crapping on about

Written by Mandroid3000

The socially dexterous of this modern age know that the key to social success is knowledge and status.

The ambitious, upwardly mobile fixtures of generations past may despair that these traits are now purely ornamental; a degree bought by Daddy to go with the prominent-but-unnecessary position in Daddy's firm. These old timers may seethe as brainless, connected upstarts rocket towards partnership, remembering their days in the Ivy Leagues when admission was through merit, knowledge was fought for, and status was earned through deeds more daring than smuggling party pills into the frat.

But such despairing wankery is not new; depressive bores have inflated the virtues of prior ages while decrying the current regime since the first aging caveman longed for the primal life of the sprightly rock ape. Such people, powerless whiners though they may be, can be dangerous in this Age of the Half-Informed because they are some of the few who can see through the veneer of faux-knowledge.

They can attack and they do attack.

First, we need to understand why they attack the new generation? Is it more than an act of petty points-scoring and shrivelled dick-swinging? Is i more than a case of correcting the erroneous notions of some jackass? Yes. Much more:

THE MOTIVATION STATION

The Aging Elite - Spite is their battery If they could just hold on, live until they were 200 or 300, they could rule this world. But they can merely watch as the world slips and their chances of success fades. The half-informed, the students who have a 'general feel' for everything, pass on their slack proclivities to future generations. A herd of faux-elite is bred, smart enough to perform the complicated tasks of the middle classes, but easy to exploit for the children who have been taught mental discipline and clarity. The future will truly be an age where information rules; it rules the lives of those who sup on it like an opiate, while those who know how to use it will rule all aspects of academia, economy, and politics. The despairing Aging Elite would be amongst this ruling class. If only he were not already 24.

You must take heed of this motivation. The rage and angst is not frivolous. In challenging you the Aging Elite throws down a gauntlet to the future. He is, for one shining minute, halting the dismal progression of history. And then the DJ start playing Akon and everyone begins dancing...

A Cocktail Party

Let us shift the scene. Repetitive music bangs along in the background. People blab on about all sorts of topics. Just within our earshot we can hear the following statements:

• "My astrologer told me to go see a psychic."

• "I wouldn't intentionally drink and drive; I was too blitzed to know what I was doing."

• "Australia is the fifth biggest economy in the Euro Zone."

You give these statements a wide intellectual berth because to do so is exciting. Like being drunk at a drag show, you too can try a few pretty things on for size. It's intoxicating to play the intellectual. A few more drinks and you're the expert on everything:

• “As Saint Tony said in Scripture 3 'Walk not in my shadow, less thy catch the back of mine slippers'.”

• “Melting is what liquids do, but thawing is what gasses do when you reverse their polarity.”

• “Hitchcock's Vertigo was based loosley on The Bostonians.”

But tonight our despairing friend from the first paragraph is in attendance; a relic from the previous age blundering his way into a social gathering like some dazzled troglodyte stumbling into a fireworks display. He yields a weapon, hidden in his sleeve like a prison shank. He uses it. It's effect is like a dash of ice water that snaps one out of the intoxicating flow of bablling, and is quite unlike the prison shank mentioned previously:

"Sir, please refrain from spouting such nonsense."

"What?" You say, taken aback.

"Please refrain from spouting such nonsense, my good man" he says, as people always change minor details when repeating a misheard statement.

If this happens, you are in serious trouble. The best course of action is not to reach this point. Best to scout out the room beforehand and look for people who match this profile:

If you scoff that such people are the stuff of Jane Austen albums, then you are an idiot and need to fear them, for if they latch on to your mental effluence this will be the outcome:

As their cruel, informed tounge tears you apart your peers look on with glee. Despite being fellow know-nothings they feed like parasites on your assailant's intelligence. You are stripped bare of all the falsities you clothed yourself with. You become a dreaded social footnote. An occassional conversation piece. But you still hold a fascination for all who witnessed your downfall because they could very well be you. And that fact leads them to shun you, for it reminds them of the depths of their own fakery.

Such a grim scenario means that you must treat this encounter as... 

A life and death battle

So you are entertaining your little group with a nugget of nonsense: “The War of the Roses was just one in a long history of floral-related conflicts, and some say that war tactics changed as botanists developed more intricate species. Some even say that the cause of the changing military tactics was the flowers themselves!”

A jealous Aging Elite (henceforth known as Beardo) throws down the gauntlet thusly: "Sir, please refrain from spouting such nonsense."

First step; relax and do not say any of the following:

• “Oh yeah, what do you know about it?”

• “Maybe in your day you read textbooks, but nowdays what's important is how we feel about a subject.”

• “Tell me more; I am a keen student of the absurd.”

If you need to stall for time, use one of the following:

• “Gin and tonic, thanks.”

• “I don't think we've met, thank God.”

• “You smell like a second hand cork store.”

As you turn over the contents of your brain for a movie scene that can get you out of this, all you will find is Good Will Hunting where, alas, the hero was some sort of cyborg super-genius who won the battle by displaying his superior memory capacity.

Instead, think of Planet of the Apes. You are a baboon. He is Charlton Heston and he is playing on your home court. The key point is that you are a baboon.

Below is a chart detailing the three best paths to victory. All are primate-friendly, but the more rounds the conversation goes, the more danger you are in of suffering humiliation. You are like a boxer with a devasating right hand (as you are a baboon, as mentioned previously), no endurance, no technique, and no clues on the actual rules of boxing.

So just follow one of these battle plans.

Well done. You have probably survived this bruising encounter. Have another drink and smile that frantic, forced smile of the slot machine jackpot winner. No skill, no good idea what to do with your fortune, but you have a prosperous future with the appearance of knowledge and the trappings of status intact. Stumble on into the dark night of your future.