Words that Kind of Matter
“Facts” have been replaced in the American psyche with starch.
Facts
It used to be that “facts” meant, you know, like…facts. Like stuff you could trust to represent what the passive objectivity of reality corroborated by kind of just being around. When did that stop being what “facts” meant?
When people use the word fact at me — and it is used and aimed like some kind of verbal missile — it seems to be a trap. It’s a piece of bait that says, “Here’s some juicy fodder for arguing. What are you going to do?”
Then, when you do argue with these “facts” the trap springs, and I find out that all these fact-flingers wanted to do was trick me into disagreeing so that they could dismiss me as someone who is essentially insane.
Because anyone who disagrees with facts is insane. They must be. Facts are the basis of truth. Facts are the seeds of reality. We all know this. Which means that anyone who disagrees with a fact must be a liar who suffers from a psychotic break from reality.
So entrapment. That’s what facts are, if current trends are to be believed and if the theory of language as a living reflection of cultural truth means anything.
By those measures, a fact is what it is used for, and facts, or what people call facts, are used to trick people into admitting that they have been lying and will probably turn out to be experiencing a psychotic break.
I never state facts anymore. Or if I do, I do it on accident, because I never feel like I can assert anything out loud with any faith that anyone else will recognize it as incontrovertibly supported by reality, since that no longer seems to be the basis of factual information.
It used to be that if you wanted to confirm a fact then you’d say, “well, let’s look at reality, and see if it agrees.” But now, before I even finish saying that, I get my head bitten off by transexual harpies screaming, “What the FUCK does reality know?”
Which, you know…can leave you pretty windswept.
I get it, though, you know. I used to think I could rely on reality. Which you can’t. Doesn’t matter what you believe. It always changes into something else.
I mean, if the name of reality still had any credit, which public opinion seems to decry against, then I would be more upset about the illegitimacy that the mere concept of facts has assumed. Since it does and it has, and reality no longer has any strength and facts no longer relate to reality anyway, I’m just like everyone else now: happy to replace my faith in facts with something more reliable. Like starch.
Starch is a good basis for reality. The U.S.A. has been based on starch for centuries, and it’s done all right.
Politicians and people of that type — these public figure types — like “facts,” and they sling them around like hammers. They’re in the business of knowing about the world, so I suppose when they say they know some facts that they know what they’re talking about.
Until I figure out what facts are, then, I guess I’ll just have another churro, like a good American, and stop making a fuss.
Mah-hah. Witness my cynical smirk.
