Der Realo/Fundi Zwist in unserer Bubble nötigt ja mehr oder weniger jeden, der nicht große Sympathien mit Vogel Strauß hat, sich Gedanken darüber zu machen, wie Richtungen eingeschlagen bzw. ausgehandelt werden.
Ich habe ein gewisses Quant von Bewunderung für jeden, der sich sehr sicher darin ist, wie und wohin die Reise zu gehen hat. Ich erkenne mich eher in der Anekdote wieder:
“Manche schwimmen mit dem Strom; andere schwimmen gegen den Strom. Ich steh im Wald un weiß nicht, wo der Fluss ist.”
Aber auch wenn Wälder und Bäume sich gegenseitig verbergen, lässt sich eine Positionierung den eilenden und zankenden Parteien gegenüber vollständig nur dann verhindern, wenn man ganz die Klappe hält. Und das liegt mir nun auch wieder nicht.
Werden wir also kurz philosophisch…
Wem würde ich denn guten Gewissens folgen mögen?
Da ich auch hier nur ein “Äh, was?” im Kopf verspüre, zitiere ich stattdessen mal das Buch der Bücher, das sich nicht nur deswegen so gut verkauft, weil auf seinem Buchdeckel “Don’t panic” in großen, freundlichen Lettern steht.
( Und wer nicht lesen will, muss hören. )
NARRATOR: The major problem – one of the major problems, for there are several – one of the many major problems with governing people is that of who you get to do it; or rather of who manages to get people to let them do it to them.
To summarise: It is a well known and lamented fact that those people who most want to rule people are, ipso facto, those least suited to do it. To summarise the summary: anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job. To summarise the summary of the summary: people are a problem.
And so this is the situation we find: a succession of Galactic Presidents who so much enjoy the fun and palaver of being in power that they never really notice that they’re not. And somewhere in the shadows behind them — who? Who can possibly rule if no one who wants to can be allowed to?
F/X: WIND. (IT’S ALWAYS WIND, ISN’T IT? I THINK WE’LL HAVE SOME THUNDER AND RAIN AS WELL.)
MAN: Pussy pussy pussy … coochicoochicoochi … pussy want his fish? Nice piece of fish … pussy want it? Pussy not eat his fish, pussy get thin and waste away, I think.
I imagine this is what will happen, but how can I tell? I think it is better if I don’t get involved.
I think fish is nice, but then I think that rain is wet so who am I to judge? Ah, you’re eating it.
I like it when I see you eat the fish, because in my mind you will waste away if you don’t.
Fish come from far away, or so I’m told. Or so I imagine I’m told. When the men come, or when in my mind the men come in their six black shiny ships do they come in your mind too?
What do you see, pussy?
And when I hear their questions, all their many questions, do you hear questions? Perhaps you just think they’re singing songs to you. Perhaps they are singing songs to you and I just think they’re asking me questions.
Do you think they came today? I do. There’s mud on the floor, cigarettes and whisky on my table, fish in your plate and a memory of them in my mind. And look what else they’ve left me. Crosswords, dictionaries and a calculator.
I think I must be right in thinking they ask me questions. To come all that way and leave all these things just for the privilege of singing songs to you would be very strange behaviour. Or so it seems to me.
Who can tell…
Who can tell.
I think I saw another ship in the sky today. A big white one. I’ve never seen a big white one. Only six small black ones. Perhaps six small black ones can look like one big white one.
Perhaps I would like a glass of whisky.
Yes, that seems more likely.
F/X: CUT TO EXTERIOR. IN OTHER WORDS A SHARP INCREASE IN THE NOISE LEVEL OF THE RAIN.
TRAMPING FEET ON ROUGH GROUND
FORD: In there?
ZAPHOD: What, in that shack?
ARTHUR: But it’s in the middle of nowhere!
FORD: Oh, come on, we must have come to the wrong place.
ZARNIWOOP: Knock on the door.
F/X: KNOCK KNOCK. THE DOOR – A CREAKY OLD WOODEN ONE – OPENS.
FORD: Er, excuse me, do you rule the universe?
MAN: I try not to. Are you wet?
FORD: Wet!?! Well, doesn’t it look as if we’re wet?
MAN: That’s how it looks to me, but how you feel about it might be a different matter. If you find warmth makes you feel dry you’d better come in.
ALL: Oh, yes thank you. (The visitors are all bewildered and embarrassed)
ZAPHOD: Er, man, like, what’s your name?
MAN: I don’t know. Why, do you think I ought to have one? It seems odd to give a bundle of vague sensory perceptions a name.
ZARNIWOOP: Listen, we must ask you some questions.
MAN: All right, you can sing to my cat if you like.
ARTHUR: Would he like that?
MAN: You’d better ask him that.
ZARNIWOOP: How long have you been ruling the universe?
MAN: Ah, this is a question about the past, is it?
MAN: How can I tell that the past isn’t a fiction designed to account for the discrepancy between my immediate physical sensations and my state of mind?
ZARNIWOOP: Do you answer all questions like this?
MAN: I say what it occurs to me to say when I think I hear people say things. More I cannot say.
ZAPHOD: Ah, that clears it up.
He’s a weirdo.
ZARNIWOOP: No! Listen. People come to you, yes?
MAN: I think so.
ZARNIWOOP: And they ask you to take decisions – about wars, about economies, about people, about everything going on out there in the universe?
MAN: I only decide about my universe. My universe is what happens to my eyes and ears. Anything else is surmise and hearsay. For all I know, these people may not exist. You may not exist. I say what it occurs to me to say.
ZARNIWOOP: But don’t you see? What you decide affects the fate of millions of people.
MON: I don’t know them. I’ve never met them. They only exist in words I think I hear. The men who come to me, say, so and so wants to declare what we call a war. These are the facts, what do you think?
And I say.
Sometimes it’s a smaller thing. They might say for instance that a man called Zaphod Beeblebrox is President, but he is in financial collusion with a consortium of high powered psychiatrists who want him to order the destruction of a planet called Earth because of some sort of experiment, should he be allowed to…
ZAPHOD: Er, now wait a minute man, hey wait…
FORD: Sit down, Arthur, sit down…
ARTHUR: Let go of me.
F/X: THE DOOR IST THROWN OPEN
ZAPHOD: Hey, er … earthman, you know me…
FORD: Leave him. We’ll sort it out later.
MAN: But it’s folly to say you know what is happening to other people. Only they know. IF they exist.
ZARNIWOOP: Do you think they do?
MAN: I have no opinion. How can I have?
ZARNIWOOP: But don’t you see, that people live or die on your word?
MAN: It’s nothing to do with me. I am not involved with people. The Lord knows I am not a cruel man.
ZARNIWOOP: AH! You say … the Lord!! You believe in …
MAN: … my cat. I call him the Lord. I am kind to him.
ZARNIWOOP: All right. How do you know he exists? How do you know he knows you to be kind or enjoys what you think of as your kindness?
MAN: I don’t. I have no idea.
It merely pleases me to behave in a certain way to what appears to be a cat.
What else do you do?
Please, I am tired.
Und falls nicht ganz klar wird, was ich damit sagen will: Meines Erachtens ist eine der besseren Ideen von J.K.Rowling das Maß, in dem sich Dumbledore in die Vorgänge in Hogwarts einmischt.
Ich überlasse es als Denksport- oder Kommentar-Diskussionsaufgabe, das genauer auszuführen 😉