Pantomime Thoughts

The mask of intelligence always replies "perhaps" to any assertion made by its interlocutors; always responds to a question with another question and never makes public its own point of view. The mask of intelligence hasn't changed much since Plato's day: smugly inscrutable and somewhat creepy, like one of those cheap, plastic face masks that bank robbers wear to hide their real identity. The mask of intelligence is fastened around the head with an elasticated citation or hooked over the ears with a pair of significant pauses.

I have two: one for when inform people that I'm listening to All Things Considered on NPR, and another, with a slightly more furrowed brow, for when I'm discussing the devotional works of Saint Colostophonicus. The latter is also a bit tight around my nose, so I'm indeed fortunate that I'm not required to wear it very often. The rest of the time I just play dumb.

A special mask of intelligence for this blog would be overkill, obviously, since I already sport the fez. No other statement is needed. A fez is the perfect symbol of brains in mufti, I like to think; the cerebellum sprawling on fragrant cushions like an Ottoman pasha, cloaked assassins with scimitars and exotic belly-dancers at its beck and call. How else can a human mind deal with the day-to-day, turgid realities of conference calls with corporate clients and reading Op-Ed columns in the New York Times at lunchtime?

Comments

[Laurent]

I had to look up 'turgid'.

[american fez]

It's a good word to know, since it applies to a lot off things nowadays.

[Mia Wolff]

I have always wondered about your brain's whereabouts. Good to know it lounges beneath fez on exotic cushions. We all know how hard it works beneath that jaunty hat.