APPEARING TO LISTEN

1. The Hole

“Unrealistic female. That’s all I’m saying.”

“What is realistic to you?”

“Not computer-generated.”

“Okay. Wooowww.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not even going to address how you answered my question with a negative.”

“Okay.”

“You didn’t tell me what a ‘realistic female’ was, you told me what a ‘realistic female’ was not. Don’t you think that’s telling?”

“Of what?”

“The weakness of your argument.”

“I’m not arguing anything. If anything I stated a preference.”

“A strong argument would define the realistic female.”

“Okay.”

“Riddle me this: Is plastic more realistic than computer-generated?”

“To me, yes.”

“Oh my god. Computers make plastic, you fool!”

“I–sure. Whatever, sure. I assumed you were alluding to plastic surgery.”

“Yes I was, which to you is a more realistic method of enhancement than computer-generated means, even though plastic is literally made by computers.”

“What? You need to chill.”

“Plastic is literally made by computers!”

“There is no amount of times you can repeat that that will make it make sense to me.”

“My point is that your whole argument hinges on an arbitrary difference. You say that females who–”

“Bro, you can’t keep saying female. Say woman. Please.”

“You’re the one who said unrealistic female.”

“I said it once and used the word for irony purposes. Neither of us should say it.”

“Irony is the song of the bird who’s come to love its cage.”

“Thanks, D.F.W. You look different without your bandana. Or the noose.”

“You would do well to read some of his work. Build your empathy muscles.”

“You would do well to touch a woman. For the first time ever. A woman, not a female.”

“You’ve resorted to the argumentation tactics of a simpleton. It doesn’t help your case. May we proceed with civility?”

“My case? I have no case! I would rather not be having this discussion at all!”

“But you’ve said it yourself, working in silence is too boring. We gotta stimulate ourselves somehow. Besides, I think we’re on to something here. I’d like to keep problematizing this.”

“To be clear, we’re not. We’re not on to anything. But feel free to proceed. If you must.”

“Your position is that a woman who has plastic injected into her to achieve certain beauty standards is more realistic than a woman generated by a computer to achieve certain beauty standards.”

“Literally in that comparison one of the women is born from the flesh and blood of another woman and the other is invented by an incel on his desktop computer. You keep taking this tone like you’ve checkmated me. We’re not arguing. You keep saying things at me and I think you’re sad.”

“Isn’t that so convenient for you?”

“I think I’ve earned it.”

“We are hurtling into a very near future where computer generated women will be just as common as plastic-injected women. Where we’re at right now is the threshold. Those images I showed you…You can’t tell me they don’t look life-like.”

“Sure. They look life-like. They look like real-life women with healthy eating habits, exercise regularly and reasonably, and who also got work done on their bodies.”

“So you admit it’s the same end-point!”

“Not at all, because, see, there’s a crucial difference between the two, and it’s that one is the result of a decision a woman made about her own body, and the other is the result of your boner taking control of your cursor in Photoshop. One of the women you showed me had a tail! For fuckssake!”

“You can choose whether or not the tail is there.”

“And it makes all the difference, I’m sure. Listen, I’m serious, you should stop looking up pictures like that, stop making pictures like that. It’s fucking up your brain. I agree with you on one thing–We are probably headed into a future of computer-generated women designed to be a solace to hobgoblins like yourself.”

“Unnecessary.”

“No, entirely necessary. You’re going to spend the rest of your life waiting, pining, for these computer-generated women to hit the markets and get regulated by the government, and in the meantime you’re going to pass up every opportunity, however seldom, to interface with a real-life woman because you’re invested in the future’s computer-generated woman with a thin waist and an ass that would sink a lifeboat. Your brain will get so fucking warped that you won’t even be able to get it up for a real-life woman because she won’t appeal to your taste for fox ears and G-cup tits, so you’ll crawl back into your jizz-stained hole with its three-monitor setup and then you’ll die.”

“What’s it to you?”

“It’s not how humans were meant to live.”

“It offends you.”

“It’s offensive.”

“I actually went on a date recently. Last week, first time in a while. Match on Hinge. Mary. We met up at a kombucha bar. She arrived thirty minutes late but didn’t say why.”

“...”

“Based on your confidence in discussing real-life women, I assume you to be, perhaps, a bit of a ladies man? I am not. But I did my best. I pulled Mary’s chair out for her, complimented her appropriately, introduced topics of discussion. Smiled a lot, but not too much, I think.”

“...”

“Time goes by, we’re not hitting it off like gangbusters, but I’m thinking it’s not going so bad. Then she gets up to go to the bathroom.”

“Oh boy.”

“So this has happened to you?”

“No, never. But I’m guessing she ditched you.”

“She did. Didn’t even finish her peach kombucha.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And so I crawled back into my jizz-stained hole and cried myself to sleep. Over a real-life woman. And you’re telling me that it was my decision to turn to alternatives?”

“I feel for you buddy, but the answer is yes. And the implied answer to your rhetorical question is also wrong. I would urge you not to nourish that thought. Real-life women did not decide this for you. They’re not legislators.”

“So if it’s nobody’s fault and there’s nothing to be done, explain your hostility towards people like me, in my situation, investing, exploring, the computer-generated woman?”

“It’s a way to ignore a significant, albeit, I will admit, hurtful, issue within yourself. There is worth, certainly, in everyone finding their niche, finding accommodation, a solution outside the norm. But a downside is that you’re probably not confronting yourself. Not growing or gaining perspective.”

“But what about you? Your dates never ditch you. Your more-ideal genetics exempt you from self-examination?

“I’m literally paralyzed from the waist-down.”

“Now isn’t that convenient.”

2. The Cow

“Thank you so much for babysitting on such short notice, we really appreciate it.”

“Of course, it’s my pleasure!”

“The boys, if you couldn’t tell, are excited to see you–”

“I–I–I–I–I–I–I–”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“I HAVE A HATCHET.”

“Oh, you do, do you?”

“Oh, wow. You do, bud. How’d you get that?”

“IT’S MINE. I–I–I–WANT TO CUT WATERMELON WITH IT.”

“I don’t think so, bud. I really don’t know how he got that.”

“No worries. I’ll keep it away from him.”

“So yeah, I think you can just give them dinner, (BOYS, DINNER), play with them, they can have some T.V., they’re really into Dragon Prince right now, aren’t you bud?”

“I–I–I–I–”

“And then you can just put them to bed. Here come the rest of them–”

“Wow, hey! You’ve both gotten so big! C’mere!”

“Knock knock!”

“Who’s there?”

“Knock knock!”

“Who’s there?”

“Knock knock!”

“...Who’s there?...”

“(This is their new thing. You have to yell, Quit knocking and come in already!)”

“QUIT KNOCKING AND COME IN ALREADY!”

“Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Knock knock!”

“QUIT KNOCKING AND COME IN ALREADY!”

“Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!”

“You’ve clearly got this handled. We should be home close to nine. Thanks again so much!”

“Okay, enjoy yourselves! Alright, guys, I’ve got one for you: Knock knock!”

“Who’s there?”

“Interrupting cow.”

“In–in–interrup–ting cow–”

“MOO!”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! H–h–h–h–hey, knock knock!”

“Who’s there?”

“In–in–rupt cow!”

“Interrupt–”

“MOO! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Knock knock!”

“Who’s there?”

“Knock knock!”

“QUIT KNOCKING AND COME IN ALREADY!”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA.”

“You guys are hilarious. Are you hungry?”

“Knock knock!”

“I think you’re hungry. Hot dogs sound good, yeah?”

“I–I–I–I–I–”

“Do you know about Dragon Prince??”

“Yeah, your dad was telling me about it. You guys don’t like Paw Patrol anymore?”

“No we don’t. Can I have no bun with my hot dog?”

“Sure, but you have to promise to finish the hot dog, alright?”

“Okay.”

“But tell me about Dragon Prince.”

“There’s all these–these–these different kinds of elves with–with different kinds of magic. There are good humans and bad humans. I’m a water elf.”

“Wow! And what kind of elves are your brothers?”

“He’s fire and he’s sky.”

“ACTUALLY I–I–I–I–I’M A FOREST ELF.”

“No you’re fire because your hair is red.”

“NO I–I–I–I–I–”

“Knock knock!”

“No, sorry buddy, we’re not doing that anymore. Hey, why don’t we let your brother be a forest elf?”

“Okay.”

“Alright, hot dogs are ready, and remember–there’s no T.V. until you’ve eaten your dinner.”

“I don’t want a bun with my hot dooooooogggggg!”

“I know, I know, I remembered, no need for that.”

“Can I eat everything but the hot dog?”

“Sure, but you have to eat everything else.”

“Part of my powers as a water elf is that I can use the power of all the ocean but just once a year.”

“Wow.”

“Every one-thousand human years is one elf year.”

“Wow.”

“So I’m seven-thousand years old.”

“Wow. Make sure to eat.”

“When I get really old, barnacles and–and–and–and coral start growing on me. But it means I’m more powerful.”

“WHERE’S MY HATCHET?”

“We put that away, buddy. We don’t know why you had that.”

“Knock knock!”

“MOO!”

3. The Obligation

“I am thrilled to introduce our next guest, a man who likely needs no introduction for many of our viewers–a tenured professor at Yale, author of forty-two books, a world-renowned literary voice– and on his seventieth birthday, no less. Welcome to the show.”

“Thank you. I am happy to be here. Especially when one considers the alternatives.”

“Certainly, certainly. Who said that, by the way?”

“Oh, Twain comes to mind, but he must have borrowed it from someone else.”

“Right away I want to talk to you about your new book here, The Obligation: Shakespeare and Life Itself.”

“Oh, must we?”

“Oh, but we must! You’ve caused quite a stir in the literary community with this book.”

“Which literary community?”

“...”

“Because you know as well as I do that there’s more than a few. For instance I haven’t heard much about my new book from the literary community of which I consider myself most, ah, endeared to, but that is to be expected when you reach my age; people feel, quite rightly, that I’ve gotten enough praise as it is. My own wife doesn’t know I’ve got a new book out. She hasn’t been aware of the last, oh, five or so. Fortunately it would appear that I have more to offer her than new books. But to your question: I have noticed no stir in my literary community that consists of my wife and my students, who are all anyways on break.”

“I mean readers in the general public.”

“Why do they care for me?”

“Your thesis in The Obligation, if I’ve understood it correctly–”

“Oh, come now, I’m sure you have.”

“–is that if you are person who has no intention of ever reading a single word of Shakespeare in their entire life, has no intention of attending a performance, that they should, as you’ve put it here, ‘Respectfully commit suicide.’”

“Yes, that’s right, you’ve got it.”

“That’s quite the sentiment.”

“Well, I gave it a lot of thought. As we have already covered, I am an older man now, older than I’ve ever been, and as such, I am less prone than ever for compromise. And I care less and less about being ugly. Look at me. And so yes, perhaps as part of a kind of last hurrah, perhaps, I have dug my heels in and proclaimed something I have quietly believed in for quite some time now, which is that a life without Shakespeare has been wasted, that if one’s disposition is such that they would deny themselves any influence of Shakespeare, then they are doing no good for themselves or, in fact, their loved ones or the world, and that then it would not be unreasonable to cut it short.”

“And by ‘it’ you’re referring to one’s life.”

“Precisely. Shakespeare taught us how to live beautifully and truthfully almost five hundred years ago now. It’s all there. I promise you it is.”

“Your argument is reminiscent of, pardon me for saying so, a religious fanatic.”

“And so I am.”

“Many people may make this argument about the Bible, or the Quran. What’s your opinion on that? Are those suitable substitutes?"

“The only ones. They’ll do in a pinch.”

“But back to my original point: People are upset about your stance.”

“That does not surprise me.”

“You’ve been in the headlines more in the past week than in the last thirty years.”

“You flatter me–I’ve never been in the headlines.”

“The accusation is that you’ve made a call for mass suicide.”

“Hardly. Do they still teach Shakespeare in high schools?”

“My gut says yes.”

“There you go. Their souls are saved, to borrow a phrase. And my feeling is that the people for whom my argument is most relevant, the non-believers; well, they likely care the least out of anyone what I have to say, and if they ever did see these headlines you mentioned, they would probably be emboldened to persist in never interfacing with Shakespeare for as long as they live, just to spite pretentious men like myself. You see, my argument was not a call to action, but a call for consideration. I presented the issue as I see it.”

“The other common complaint is that Shakespeare, himself and his work, is not an inclusive parameter to put upon the lives of eight billion people.”

“How so?”

“They’ve pointed out that Shakespeare is a straight white man–”

“Likely bisexual, but continue.”

“–noted; who writes works that cater to straight white men, and that to tell, say, a queer woman born in China, to commit suicide because she has not read Hamlet is racist and homophobic.”

“Who said Hamlet has to be a man? Who said Hamlet has to be white or straight? These matters are trivial, besides the point. Hamlet lives in the soul, not the skin or the sex. That is not where my loyalties lie. Shakespeare, the man who lived and died, is the least significant aspect of the work of Shakespeare.”

“What if the only work of Shakespeare someone engaged with was Macbeth?”

“Then he has witnessed a stirring depiction of madness and become a more substantial individual because of it. I understand the point you are making but I refuse it. We are not benefited solely by joy or love–both of which are marvelous components to a full and happy life, but are not all there is. The hard truth is that we learn much more from pain and horror than any experience of pleasure can grant us.”

“Is your tenure at Yale under threat at all, given all this bad press?”

“If so I’ll be the last to know. That seems to be how these things go.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I am not clued in to the court of public opinion. I’m sure that for those who are, it might seem very likely that my tenure is under threat–perhaps it is so likely to them that I will be fired that it has already happened in their mind. But for me, I will not know until I am told that I am an unwanted presence at Yale.”

“Surely they’d want to negotiate so that you could stay on?”

“And what kind of negotiation would that be? They ask if I’d consider revoking my writing? Publicly disown my own words? I think we both know that would amount to nothing in the eyes of those who disapprove. The only acceptable course of action would be, and I’m not joking when I say this, death. To perish.”

“I’m sure they don’t want you to die.”

“Even if they themselves don’t know it, they do want me to die, especially given how old I already am. But I’ll be around a bit longer, see, because I’ve read Shakespeare.”

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