I went to dinner the other night. There were six of us, three couples. People talked mostly about the worlds they inhabit and the lines intersected somewhere in the middle of the table, maybe near the salt and pepper. One guy was in the entertainment industry. One woman was a retired teacher. One woman was a teacher, not yet retired. Another guy has a luxuriance of hobbies—piano! mixology! collecting old knives! traveling to and photographing the world’s tallest waterfalls!—to the point where it seems like maybe his money comes from the sky. The conversation stayed away from politics, for the most part, but more than once someone sighed and said something like “I don’t know about the world and…” or “I worry…” before trailing off. Alcohol eventually eliminated this lugubrious mood, or delayed it, and people started talking about TV shows they liked and, with greater gusto, those they couldn’t stand.
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NO NEWS IS GOOD NEWS
Arthur, reading the newspaper, happened upon an article. It was not page one or even close to it. It was buried back behind the national and international news, behind the business and the sports. It was classed under “Trends.” In thirty years, it said, there would be no more tolerable weather, no seas at sea level any longer, no clean mountain peaks, no birds with two wings, no brains or bodies that were not tuned to commercial frequencies, no more diseases in those brains or bodies, no more leaders, no more luck, no more love, no more lust. It also said there would be no more losing because the entire paradigm of victory and loss would be excised via technology from the human species. What would replace it all would be automated restaurants, linen wearables, affordable cameos in reality programs, wordless grief. Arthur turned quickly back to the comforts of the national and international news and the rest. An army had crossed a border and was entering a city. A new law limited postal delivery. The Birds had won 4-0. Later, after his wife had returned home, after the two of them had eaten dinner and smoked a little, when they were sitting up in bed trying to decide what to do with the remaining hour of their day, Arthur spoke up. “I read the craziest thing today,” he said. He adopted a skeptical tone but it was a liar’s gambit. The truth was that he had, while reading the newspaper, believed every word. [©2025 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas]