I would appreciate your indulgence in considering this ‘prologue’ to be one of those ‘Your video will play after this ad’ flags.
Unfortunately, there is no ‘Skip ad’ button here.
That vast numbers of people will vote for Donald Trump this November brought me long ago to the realization that the human race is irredeemably flawed and we need that asteroid to go ahead and wipe us out.
On a personal level, we have two friends of decades duration whom we once effortlessly considered charming/bright/witty, who have been purged from our lives upon discovery of their Trump support. Some would argue against such a course of action, but those advocates belong in a monastery.
Better off limiting relationships, so we never learn ‘the rest’…
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
An Ode to Small Talk
by James Parker — The Atlantic — October 2020
The correct answer to the question “How are you?” is Not too bad.
Why? Because it’s all-purpose. Whatever the circumstances, whatever the conditions, Not too bad will get you through. In good times it projects a decent pessimism, an Eeyore-ish reluctance to get carried away. On an average day it bespeaks a muddling-through modesty. And when things are rough, really rough, it becomes a heroic understatement. Best of all, with three equally stressed syllables, it gently forestalls further inquiry, because it is—basically—meaningless.
Small talk is rhetoric too. Americans in particular are small-talk artists. They have to be. This is a wild country. The most tenuous filaments of consensus and cooperation attach one person to the next. So the Have a nice days, the Hot enough for yous, the How ’bout those Metses—they serve a vital purpose. Without these emollient little going-nowhere phrases and the momentary social contract that they represent, the streets would be a free-for-all, a rodeo of disaster.
But that’s the negative view. Some of my most radiant interactions with other human beings have been fleeting, glancing moments of small talk. It’s an extraordinary thing. A person stands before you, unknown, a complete stranger—and the merest everyday speech-morsel can tip you headfirst into the blazing void of his or her soul.
I was out walking the other day when a UPS truck rumbled massively to the curb in front of me. As the driver leaped from his cab to make a delivery, I heard music coming out of the truck’s speakers—a familiar, weightless strain of blues-rock noodle. There was a certain spacey twinkle in the upper registers, a certain flimsiness in the rhythm section … Yes. It had to be. The Grateful Dead, in one of their zillion live recordings. And I knew the song. It’s my favorite Dead song.
“ ‘China Cat Sunflower’?” I said to the UPS guy as he charged back to his truck. A huge grin: “You got it, babe!”
The exchange of energy, the perfect understanding, the freemasonry of Deadhead-ness that flashed instantaneously between us, and most of all the honorific babe—I was high as a kite for the next 10 minutes, projected skyward on a pure beam of small talk.
domanidave.com 
3 comments
Comments feed for this article
September 22, 2020 at 4:02 pm
Dave
Perhaps it is important for my reputation – such as it is – to point out that whereas I embrace the author’s point, I am not by any means a Deadhead. In fact, I describe The Grateful Dead’s oeuvre so: musicians who seem to have just met, playing songs they’d never played before.
September 22, 2020 at 9:40 pm
larrymuffin
Funny for years I have been answering the question How Are You? with the reply Not bad. I would never say I’m good as is the fashion now. As for your friends, it is shocking to think that you may think you know someone and bam something is said or discovered and you wonder how did that happen.
September 27, 2020 at 8:50 pm
Urspo
not too bad indeed covers all matters particularly the main point which is to say something to finish the two-part greeting prior to talking about what is really the matter.