It started on a lovely autumn walk last year. Shane and I were holding hands, marveling at the changing leaves, gazing lovingly into one another’s eyes--you get the picture. Such moments usually last about 2.8 seconds before one of us (mostly me) gets bored and kills the romance.
This time it was Shane. He poked me in the belly, I threatened his life, he challenged “What are you gonna do about it, huh?” Typical stuff.
Then it happened. A lifetime of classic BBC dramas bubbled to the surface, mixed with my recent Moby Dick audiobook, and coalesced into the voice of Colonel Huffington.
“I’ll have you court martialed,” I roared in the voice of a middle-aged British naval officer. You can replicate his accent by filling your mouth with marshmallows and then aggressively disapproving of young people and their slipshod work aboard this vessel.
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| A visual approximation of Colonel Huffington. I want you to imagine a feathered three cornered hat in this picture. |
“Hey Laura, are you going to bed soon?”
“Preposterous! Did Nelson rest at the battle of Trafalgar? I think not young man.” Colonel Huffington is a veteran of the Napoleonic wars.
“Hey Laura, did you remember to pack a lunch for tomorrow?”
“My manservant Reginald will attend to it. I have far more important affairs to concern myself with.”
“Does that mean you’ll do it in the morning?”
*pause* “Yeah, I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”
It was a sickness, I couldn’t stop. Colonel Huffington appeared about three times a week and constantly threatened my husband with a court martial. Whenever I didn’t know what to say to Shane I turned to this blustering old man for help. He could bully himself out of any situation by refusing to listen to reason and citing his personal experience in the war. No one can disagree with a decorated old veteran who wears his rank like a poncho during a food fight--nothing sticks to him.
When Shane wanted me to buy strawberry instead of cookies and cream ice cream, Colonel Huffington declared strawberry treasonous to the crown. When Shane discovered that I didn’t know the difference between a route and a highway, Colonel Huffington accused Shane of questioning the navigational abilities of a superior officer. When Shane caught me screwing up his birthdate on my passport application, Colonel Huffington informed him that there are no birthdays in her majesty’s navy--we simply do not have time for that sort of personal indulgence.
Court martialed. Court martialed. Court martialed.
Only now that Colonel Huffington has faded from my life do I understand why I loved being him so much. Colonel Huffington cares not for your opinion. I care. I constantly care about every little opinion.
My biggest pet peeve is when someone dismisses an idea without considering it. If I call them on it they’ll say “Well, I know I’m right.”
How? How do you know? Did an angel descend from heaven, give you the lowdown on the current political situation, tell you that you’re a swell guy, and then fly back up? Even if one did come down and fill you in on proper facebook etiquette you should still have some questions. Was that really an angel? Should I get my medication adjusted? Why was I chosen to lead the world into this new age of absolute truth?
Because this annoys me so much I try to be on the opposite end of the spectrum. I constantly question my own opinions. I get lost trying to follow the twists and turns of other people’s points of view. I find myself entertaining absurd thoughts such as Maybe women don’t need to be paid the same wage for the same work. Or Shame is a totally legitimate motivational tool, so it’s ok to ridicule the obese. Sometimes even Perhaps we should close down shelters so that the homeless will try harder to get jobs.
Like I said, I try to give other people’s opinions a fair shake; even the opinions I read on the internet. It’s mentally exhausting.
Colonel Huffington has the ability to make snap judgements and defend them against the onslaught of logic, consideration, and common sense. I adore the sense of power that come from being him. I can transform and completely ignore my urge to understand other people. I’m right even when I’m wrong and I love it.
But it’s just for fun, and nothing bigger than ice cream is at stake. Some people live like Colonel Huffington every day. They breeze through life with the sure sense that they’re always right. They wear thick armor of smug correctness while sparring with us unarmed let’s-consider-your-point-of-view opponents. We don’t stand a chance against them, we can’t land a blow, we can only get skewered by their certainty.
It’s ungentlemanly behavior. We would never tolerate this sort of bad form in her majesty's navy. I say we have them all court martialed.
This is hilarious and insightful.
ReplyDeleteFrom you that's high praise. Thanks
ReplyDelete