All Torted Up
My husband told me some woman has filed a suit against a major beauty company over a face cream. Apparently she had a lab analyze it and they didn’t find any elfin magic. Only normal ingredients. So she sues. How great is that? If she wins, I can sue the Gap because their denim is only ordinary cotton and doesn’t really possess the power to make me look like teeny tiny Sarah Jessica Parker – and isn’t that what they promised me? Isn’t it? Hey, even better – Angelina Jolie is modeling for St. John now – if I buy the dress, does it have something in there that will make me look like her? Or BE her? And if not, if Brad Pitt doesn’t come rushing into my arms, dropping little Maddox in a mad rush to embrace me – how much do I get? A million? Two? Neat!
What a cool game we’re playing with our expensive court system. How far can we take it? Can I sue the hospital if my ER doctor doesn’t look like Goren Visijnic? If my doctor doesn’t diagnose me as brilliantly as Dr. House? Why should I settle for boring old reality, however effective it may be, when I can sue my way to a whole new, much more attractive reality? When a judge can make it all real.
Have we had enough of this childishness yet? Have we become so addicted to a supposition of certainty in this world that we become outraged – and litigious – when we find out life is unfair, uncertain, unknowable? When we find out a salesperson – egad! -- exaggerated? Alert the press!
Only a child thinks the world is predictable and certain – and then, only a child whose parents are silly enough to let them think so, past the age of 10. Everybody else should grow up and pay attention to real problems.
Did the cream work or not? Who knows if she even used it? She just took it to the lab for testing. Maybe if she’d tried it, and felt more attractive in the morning, she wouldn’t have cared what was in it. Sometimes it’s not helpful to pull the wings off butterflies.
For my part, I like fantasy. I find it very comforting at the end of a tiring, ordinary day. Anticipating the sight of George Clooney every Thursday on ER got me through two post-partum depressions. Tomorrow morning that nice smell in the bottle waiting for me in the shower is the only thing that’s going to get me in there for the 4011th time. And if we can’t enjoy beauty, scent, life – all the silly, lovely, imperfect, impermanent hopes we were born to fall for again and again – we have no one blame but ourselves.
Unless of course, this case sets a legal precedent.
What a cool game we’re playing with our expensive court system. How far can we take it? Can I sue the hospital if my ER doctor doesn’t look like Goren Visijnic? If my doctor doesn’t diagnose me as brilliantly as Dr. House? Why should I settle for boring old reality, however effective it may be, when I can sue my way to a whole new, much more attractive reality? When a judge can make it all real.
Have we had enough of this childishness yet? Have we become so addicted to a supposition of certainty in this world that we become outraged – and litigious – when we find out life is unfair, uncertain, unknowable? When we find out a salesperson – egad! -- exaggerated? Alert the press!
Only a child thinks the world is predictable and certain – and then, only a child whose parents are silly enough to let them think so, past the age of 10. Everybody else should grow up and pay attention to real problems.
Did the cream work or not? Who knows if she even used it? She just took it to the lab for testing. Maybe if she’d tried it, and felt more attractive in the morning, she wouldn’t have cared what was in it. Sometimes it’s not helpful to pull the wings off butterflies.
For my part, I like fantasy. I find it very comforting at the end of a tiring, ordinary day. Anticipating the sight of George Clooney every Thursday on ER got me through two post-partum depressions. Tomorrow morning that nice smell in the bottle waiting for me in the shower is the only thing that’s going to get me in there for the 4011th time. And if we can’t enjoy beauty, scent, life – all the silly, lovely, imperfect, impermanent hopes we were born to fall for again and again – we have no one blame but ourselves.
Unless of course, this case sets a legal precedent.
posted by Whoopla at
6:49 AM
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