One of the curses of a good memory is the inability to forget stupid, hurtful things we said in the past, and sometimes last week. Years ago I wrecked a friendship with a glib remark, a wisecrack that I didn’t even believe but had convinced myself was funny (it was, in fact, but also gratuitously nasty). Granted, some people deserve to be hurt, but that wasn’t the case here. I said such things to get attention and to be admired for my wit. In his Rambler essay dated May 14, 1751, Dr. Johnson writes:
“It is very
natural for young men to be vehement, acrimonious, and severe. For, as they
seldom comprehend at once all the consequences of a position, or perceive the
difficulties by which cooler and more experienced reasoners are restrained from
confidence, they form their conclusions with great precipitance.”
Few urges
are stronger than the desire to be thought funny, especially when we’re young. I
would instantaneously express opinions about matters of which I was utterly
ignorant, but they provoked my comic sense. The impulse wasn’t “educational” for my listeners and contributed nothing useful to the conversation. It’s important to remember that
the least important things you can know about me, or I about you, are opinions
about anything. Most opinions are tiresome and unearned, and have replaced knowledge
in both writing and conversation. But still we wish to be thought amusing, the wit
of the party. Take Joseph Addison’s version of an
epigram by Martial:
“In all thy humors, whether grave or mellow,
Thou ’rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow;
Hast so much wit, and mirth, and spleen about
thee,
There is no living with thee, nor without thee.”
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Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, 1128a
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