Everything I know is wrong.

In this life, we are born knowing very little. We have a rudimentary knowledge of how to breath. Crying and screaming apparently comes naturally as well. Most babies have also expressed acute awareness of the fact that “it’s fuggin cold out here!”

The point is, we don’t start out with a great understanding of the world around us. We have to learn things as they go. Now, imagine trying to understand advanced physics before you pass a basic high school science course. It’s not going to make a lot of sense, and for the most part, you’re not going to understand any of it. If pressed, you’ll probably draw the wrong conclusions more often than not.

Well, sometimes I think life’s like that. You don’t really learn things about the world in any particular order. For this reason, we should always be ready to find out that we were bass-ackwards wrong about things from time to time. Be that as it may, there are some truths which are hard to accept.

DesCartes theorized once that for all we know, everything we experience is the produce of an evil demon that controls our thoughts. For this reason, nothing we know is absolutely sure, except that we exist. This is a good theory, and can be extrapolated practically almost every day. But still, we all know that there isn’t an evil demon controlling our thoughts. Well, probably not, but I digress. The point is, even though it is theoretically possible that up is down and blue is red and the universe is truly overseen by a flying spaghetti monster, there is a significant difference from accepting such a possibility and actually discovering that a belief that you have held to be infallible was never, ever true.

From time to time, some people may have one of those revelations that make them step back and go “wow, if I was wrong about this, every single thought or opinion I’ve ever had is now in question. If this wasn’t a sure thing, nothing ever could be.” It’s an emotional and psychological gutshot that can stay with you for a lifetime, and sometimes even drive you insane. I’ve recently had such a revelation.

While listening to the radio this morning, I learned that the lead singer of The Silver Sun Pickups is a man. That’s right, that’s a dude. Apparently, the female bassist only provides backup vocals.

I have to wait until I can get home tonight and youtube one of their shows to confirm all this, but if it is true, the very fabric of my reality will be called into question. When this happened to DesCartes, he ended up talking to his horse and hiding his feces in a dresser drawer. If that happens to me, if anyone wants to keep reading my blog, they’ll have to find whatever it is that horses use for an internet.

This has been…
BS