"Tad, I'm curious. Why are you so totally down on social responsibility?"
Paul looked from Frank to me and awaited the answer.
"Because it is based on an impoverished epistemology." I offered and then waited for the weight of the response to sink in. I liked coming up with catchy and provocative phrases that we could spend hours unraveling. But Frank wasn't willing to give it to me yet and Paul wouldn't admit that he had no idea was those words meant. So I waited.
After a few moments Frank spoke again. "O.K. I'll bite. What's an impoverished epistemology?"
"It simply means that there are basic assumptions that people make in the name of social responsibility that are never critically challenged. In their excessive self-righteousness they feel that these assumptions are obvious and can't understand why others don't hold the same obvious assumptions."
"Can you give an example?" Paul asked, feeling brave enough to join the conversation.
"Sure. Look at the homeless issue. Many people feel that we should get these homeless people out of the parks and into homes and jobs. They feel that they should have better health care, job training, and suitable clothes. What they really feel is that homeless people should be more like them. They see these dirty people, who don't give a shit about Nordstrom's or BMWs, lounging around in the parks and it challenges their lifestyle and values. So under the socially responsible guise of helping the homeless, they are really trying to force these people to be more like them. Maybe living in the park isn't so bad. Maybe they should question their motives and assumptions. But they don't, so it is an impoverished epistemology."
Paul nodded as though he were digesting this weighty piece of insight. Frank seemed to be thinking about something else entirely.
At that moment Angel came bursting into the Brewer's Pub and came directly over to our table.
"Have a seat Angel and let me buy you a stout." I was just being polite. I knew that Angel would rather drink drain cleaner that to have a beer with us. After years of living with an alcoholic parent, it is difficult to see the value of social drinking.
"I need to see you Professor Wentworth. The sooner the better."
I noticed that Angel did not even look at Frank. And, as far as I could tell, Frank was ignoring Angel. I wondered if they had a falling out or something. I probably should have dealt with it right away, but instead I gulped the last swallow of my stout and ordered another.
"O.K. Angel. I'll try to come by the lab on my way out. If not I'll check with you tomorrow." She looked at me like that wasn't a satisfactory answer but didn't say anything. Instead she turned and left. She looked more like she was marching out than walking out and I had a feeling that I hadn't handled things as well as I should.
After two more stouts and some uninspired conversation one of Paul's students spotted us in the Pub and came in to say hello. She ordered a glass of white wine and we all ordered another stout. The conversion got a little livelier as she and Paul discussed human behavior and group dynamics, making frequent references to people in his class that I didn't know. My mind drifted and I noticed that Paul's student (I never did catch her name) was wearing a tight white t-shirt with some sort of logo on it that I didn't recognize. I blinked a few times and wondered if cotton got brighter when it was stretched. I downed my drink in larger gulps and amused myself imagining her mother pulling that t-shirt out of the washing machine all stretched out in front, flipping it a couple of times and saying "Oh, this must be yours, dear."
I couldn't make out the logo. It didn't seem to have any vowels in it. I thought about those charts that eye doctors use to test your vision and thought how much more interesting it would be if they used t shirts instead. C-P-S-R. Must be a band or something.
I noticed that the conversation around the table had gotten very quiet. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Frank and Paul shifting nervously in their chairs. I looked up and saw that blue eyes was giving me a look of complete disgust. I considered explaining the situation but felt that it would only make things worse. So I just smiled at everyone and waved at the bartender for another brew.
A couple more rounds went by although our guest's wineglass was going down faster from evaporation than from sipping. We were talking about roles that people play and how different situations require quite different roles when blue eyes offered the following probing insight - "I just don't think people should be phony".
I blinked in disbelief and considered leaving town and becoming a hermit.
"What do you mean… phony?" I managed to ask without an edge in my voice.
"I just think people should be who they are" she replied, looking as though this additional insight secured her original claim.
My contempt welled up from deep inside of me and I felt compelled to enlighten Miss Mary Lou Tshirt with regard to impoverished epistemologies. But after all that stout, I couldn't pronounce impoverished or epistemology. I tried four times and she just sat there looking at me like I was the biggest fool she had ever seen in her life. Who knows, maybe I was.