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September 22, 2006
mailbag
Several readers wrote to ask if the Marge story was true. Alas, only her name was fake. In fact, she called be a day later to ask if I needed a ride back to the mechanic. So lovely to hear her melodious voice again.
Here are the results of my challenge to name an instance of human kindness untainted by self-interest: bupkus. Oh, I heard from readers, but the overwhelming response to my plea was a scolding—the problem lies with my fantastical expectations, not with human beings being unduly selfish. Thanks for the beatdown. It really mitigated my disgust with people. Other readers thought I had posed some sort of paradoxical Zen koan thing and waxed about how kindness is an inherently selfish act.
I call bullshit. I make decisions every day, without fanfare, with remorse, to address someone else's needs at the expense of my own. I'd assumed we all did that. Usually the cost to me is trivial; sometimes it's not. I'm now not sure why I bother. Reading your responses depressed the hell out of me, frankly. I had assumed—desperately hoped, even—that I was not among the finest specimens the human race has to offer. I certainly shouldn't be. But the majority who wrote took a synchronized backward step and left me standing alone, the unwitting volunteer.
God help us all. Satan, even. Whatever works.
posted by john at 8:02 AM • permalink