And All Of Us But Players

     It isn’t often that I read anything anywhere that makes me re-examine fundamental convictions. I’m sure that’s partly because I’m old. Nevertheless, it’s disturbing to think that even in old age, a professional thinker could be so “set in his ways” that he never inspects his intellectual foundation for cracks. And after all, a professional thinker is what I am.

     Yes, I’ve just read something that shook me, and I recommend it to you:

I knew a woman in Montana whose eyes never changed when she laughed.

We didn't notice it at first.

She and her husband took us in when we first moved there. We were living in an old Air Force base that had been converted into a boys home, they worked there as counselors. We had… pic.twitter.com/sH1skSbL5Y

— The Biblical Man | 4 AM Field Notes (@SlayStupidity) October 8, 2025

     I hope you did read it all, Gentle Reader. Give it a few moments to percolate before continuing on.

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     First, to set the mood, a fine old tune from sixty years ago:

     Many of our relationships are colored by grants of authority. If you work for a living, you probably have a manager or supervisor of some sort. Inasmuch as we haven’t yet rid ourselves of that pestilential, infinitely aggravating parasite, The State, there are authority relationships there, too – and sometimes they involve the use or threat of force. Then there are family relations: husband / wife, and parent / child. Those too have aspects of authority embedded in them.

     It’s in the nature of authority that the subordinate has incentives to please his superior. The superior is in a position to award rewards and penalties. The subordinate knows it. His conduct must take that into account. That doesn’t mean that the subordinate will always be “acting,” but questions such as “What does he want me to say / do?” are frequently in his thoughts.

     Even relationships that have no authoritarian aspects involve those questions. One’s membership in a social or commercial circle may depend upon saying / doing “the right things.” That’s the basis of the power of “political correctness.” (Don’t preen yourselves, conservatives; your social and commercial circles behave much the same way.) Losing such a membership can be as traumatic as a major setback in business; indeed, the former often entails the latter.

     I think the man who is never moved to “perform,” in the sense of that embedded tweet, is likely to be very rare. While the woman of whom the narrator speaks is an especially dramatic case, we’re all in the “What should I say / do to please him / them?” mindset under certain circumstances.

     Is that terrible? Does it illustrate some tragedy indelibly written into our natures? I can’t say. I only know that I’ve both witnessed it and lived it.

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     I’m not here to rail against “performing,” in the sense of that embedded tweet. Neither am I here to exhort anyone to be “authentic,” much less “real.” I’m just noting a pattern that arises from human relationships and our desire to manipulate others’ opinions of us.

     Most of us have a desire to be liked, at least when we’re in certain company. And most of us are in positions where someone else’s opinion of us can have a material bearing on our lot in life. So we learn what would please and displease those others. We “perform for them.” And those of us who are employees go through an annual “performance review” in which we’re told how well we “performed,” sometimes even sincerely.

     It’s the same in our noncommercial relationships, except for those damned performance reviews. We learn the preferences of those whose good opinion we seek, and if it’s possible and not too expensive, we “perform to them.” This is just as applicable to romantic and domestic relationships as to any other sort.

     This is what constitutes role-playing:

• Select the role you want to perform;
• Learn your lines;
• Deliver them, with matching expressions and intonations, at the proper moments.

     The woman in the tweet didn’t get the expressions right. That was her giveaway. Still, she learned her lines and delivered them. One might even say she “lived her role,” whichever one was “on the boards” at the moment. Was she happy? I could never say. It’s possible that she couldn’t, either. It’s just as possible that the question never occurred to her.

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     A vignette to close.

     Some months ago, I met a woman through the Net: a retired actress who’d been prominent in a “sitcom” of an earlier decade. Our conversation prospered for a while, until she did something I didn’t expect: she asked me for financial help. This, after telling me in some detail about her several businesses and how involving they were.

     No, I didn’t send her money. And yes: that was pretty much the end of the conversation. It was disappointing, as I’d come to like her quite a lot, but such is the World Wide Web in this age of ours.

     Just yesterday, I noticed her on X, and “said hello.” She responded, but within two sentences it became clear that she didn’t know me. The woman I’d conversed with months ago was an impostor. That impostor had apparently employed artificial-intelligence programs to play the role she’d chosen. She’d been utterly convincing, too.

     Is the second encounter any more to be trusted than the first one? Or is my more recent acquaintance just another impostor? One more unidentifiable role-player who’s assumed the same persona and is reading from the same script, or perhaps a slightly different one?

     And now, Gentle Reader, I must bid you adieu, for it’s time for me to change roles. I must doff this Curmudgeon Emeritus persona and don that of a storyteller whose tales enthrall... well, a few people, anyway. There’s an unfinished novel awaiting his / my / our attention.

     Do have a nice day. And remember: While Sybil was fiction, there are other, similar tales that aren’t. Perhaps you’re living one yourself. So be kind to your fellow players. A noted talespinner of yore, Henry James, has said that it’s all that matters. He might have been performing when he said it, but it’s good advice anyway.