Dog-shit Metaphysics

Next a distinguished older looking man named “Robert” is handed the microphone. When Robert speaks, he is erudite and well spoken. 

            “Yes, my name’s Robert Swanson and I’m a professor here at the University and I just have to say, Brandon, that in all my years of both studying and teaching philosophy, I have never heard anything so preposterous as what you are presenting to us here in The Conversation. What do you really call this ‘philosophy’ of yours anyway?”

            “Dog-shit,” Brandon says firmly. “It’s called dog-shit metaphysics. That’s the only kind of philosophy you’re going to get from The Conversation, Robert, dog-shit metaphysics.  Does that answer your question?”

            Robert stands like a statue glowering at Brandon who right now doesn’t seem to have a care in the world, as he leans back in his director’s chair, casually sipping coffee from his thermos.

            “I know what you’re doing,” Robert says angrily, “I’m on to you, Brandon. I’m familiar with all the methods of coercive persuasion you’re using on us and most of the underlying philosophy you’re putting out.” 

            Brandon’s eyes suddenly widen in mock surprise. A mischievous smile appears briefly on his face before quickly being covered by another sip from his thermos. Meanwhile Robert speaks fervently about all of the “coercive and manipulative methods of compliance” being used by Brandon along with the “rigidly controlled milieu” of The Conversation—

            “The rigidly controlled whaaaaaaat?” Asks Brandon looking horrified.

            “Milieu,” says Robert, “I was speaking of the rigidly controlled milieu of The Conversation.”    

            Brandon once again responds with an expression of mock horror. He listens to Robert a while longer before informing him that he is “quite possibly the biggest asshole in the room.”

          Then Brandon really lights into him.

            “Don’t give me your goddamn belief system, you stupid mother fucker. I’ve heard just about enough of your bullshit. Everything you’re saying is total bullshit. Just what the hell’s wrong with you, Robert? Take a look at yourself. You’re not at all happy right now and in fact you’re a goddamn mess. So what I want to know is this; if all your knowledge and philosophy can’t even make you happy, then what the fuck good is it? Can you answer me that, Robert? Then what the fuck good is it?”

            Robert doesn’t answer, but stands frozen in place; the microphone in his hand trembling slightly.

            “Listen to me, Robert, when you know who you are, then you’ll know everything. Until you know who you are, then you really don’t know anything regardless of how much information you gather or how many experiences you have. My God, Robert, you really don’t already know this stuff or even have a clue as to what’s going on in The Conversation. If you ask me, Robert, I don’t think you know anything.  The truth is you really don’t know anything—UNTIL  YOU  KNOW  YOU  ARE  FREE.”           

          Robert tries to say something, but Brandon interrupts him again. 

            “And I’ll tell you something else, Robert, that right now you’re so full of shit you don’t even know what hit you. Now sit down and shut up.”

            Then Brandon winks and flashes him a generous smile. Dazed and confused Robert sits back down, only to be greeted by a loud burst of applause from everyone in the room.  It’s the same pattern we’ve seen before; a stream of abusive epithets hurled at a skeptical participant, ending in a cheerful smile from Brandon and an enthusiastic round of applause from everyone else. The Conversation is taking on a dizzying surreal quality that defies all logic and common sense: A hallucinatory eeriness—

            “Hey you assholes; if some of you are confused right now, then that’s only because you’re trying to figure it out. You can only be confused or experience confusion so long as you’re trying to figure something out. The moment you STOP trying to figure it out, then you won’t be confused by anything anymore, I promise.”

            “And I’ll tell you something else,” says Brandon speaking with his usual crisp firmness, “Don’t even try to figure out what’s going on here in The Conversation because you can’t do it. No one can. If any of you assholes think you know what’s going on here, then I’ve got some news for you—THERE’S NOTHING GOING ON HERE!  There really is nothing going on in The Conversation except for you and your story.” 

            “The Conversation is nothing. Truly nothing. It is exactly, precisely and absolutely nothing; and who YOU are is the Storyteller of that. The Conversation is nothing but what you make of it; and then whatever you make of it… yeah, well—that’s what you get,” says Brandon with a tone of finality. “And if some of you assholes are disappointed by what the truth is, then that’s what you get. You get to be disappointed.

“Too bad,” he says sarcastically.

 “TOO BAD.”