The Philosophical Genie: An Intellectual Fable
(Any resemblance to real politicians, living or dead, is entirely intentional.)
J.C. Lester
Philosophical notes, No. 83
CHARACTERS: A YOUTH (Y) AND A GENIE (G).
SCENE: A GARDEN SHED FULL OF TOOLS AND ASSORTED BRIC-A-BRAC INCLUDING TWO OLD ARMCHAIRS. A LAMP, BIKE AND BOOK ARE THERE BUT WELL HIDDEN AMONG IT ALL.
[A YOUTH ENTERS AND WANDERS UP AND DOWN DISTRACTEDLY.]
Y: I have a problem. What is it all about—everything? That’s my problem. I really don’t know what’s going on in the world. I muddle along without really understanding anything at all. And the more questions I ask, the more deeply I realise my fundamental confusion. None of the people I ask have any adequate answers, and they even fail to understand or care that they don’t understand. Perhaps I am at least less confused than they are by realising and caring where some of the problems are.
So why, I ask myself, am I talking to myself in the garden shed—again? And I answer myself thus: 1) Because I have no one else to talk to properly about such matters. 2) Because talking to myself seems to help a little. 3) Because I don’t want to appear a lunatic by talking to myself somewhere that I might be overheard. Especially, 4) because of the way I sometimes number the points I make to myself. Oh, and, 5) so that I can have a cerebral smoke.
[TAKES OUT A CIGAR AND PUTS IT IN HIS MOUTH THEN PATS HIS CLOTHES AND LOOKS AROUND FOR MATCHES. SPIES SOMETHING.]