TheMayor wrote:I agree that there's nothing wrong with a business transaction dressed up as something more. It doesn't really bother me. The delusion you refer to is probably healthier than the lack thereof.
Hemingway would agree with you...
In spite of this introduction of emotion, Mr. Frazer went on thinking. Usually he avoided thinking all he could, except when he was writing, but now he was thinking about those who were playing and what the little one had said.
Religion is the opium of the people. He believed that, that dyspeptic little joint-keeper. Yes, and music is the opium of the people. Old mount-to-the-head hadn’t thought of that.
And now economics is the opium of the people; along with patriotism the opium of the people in Italy and Germany.
What about sexual intercourse; was that an opium of the people? Of some of the people. Of some of the best of the people. But drink was a sovereign opium of the people, oh, an excellent opium. Although some prefer the radio, another opium of the people, a cheap one he had just been using.
Along with these went gambling, an opium of the people if there ever was one, one of the oldest. Ambition was another.
An opium of the people, along with a belief in any new form of government. What you wanted was the minimum of government, always less government. Liberty, what we believed in, now the name of a MacFadden publication. We believed in that although they had not found a new name for it yet. But what was the real one? What was the real, the actual, opium of the people? He knew it very well. It was gone just a little way around the corner in that well-lighted part of his mind that was there after two or more drinks in the evening; that he knew was there (it was not really there of course). What was it? He knew very well. What was it?
Of course; bread was the opium of the people. Would he remember that and would it make sense in the daylight?
Bread is the opium of the people.
‘Listen,’ Mr. Frazer said to the nurse when she came. ‘Get that little thin Mexican in here, will you, please?’
‘How do you like it?’ the Mexican said at the door.
‘Very much.’
‘It is a historic tune,’ the Mexican said. ‘It is the tune of the real revolution.’
‘Listen,’ said Mr. Frazer. ‘Why should the people be operated on without an anaesthetic?’
‘I do not understand.’
‘Why are not all the opiums of the people good? What do you want to do with the people?’
‘They should be rescued from ignorance.’
‘Don’t talk nonsense. Education is an opium of the people. You ought to know now that you’ve had a little.’
‘You do not believe in education?’
‘No,’ said Mr. Frazer. ‘In knowledge, yes.’
‘I do not follow you.’
‘Many times I do not follow myself with pleasure.’
‘You want to hear the “Cucaracha” another time?’ asked the Mexican worriedly.
‘Yes,’ said Mr. Frazer. ‘Play the “Cucaracha” another time. It’s better than the radio.’
Although I would tend to disagree. Self deception is a bad thing, in general.