Truth and the Teapot

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Stephen Whiteside
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Truth and the Teapot

Post by Stephen Whiteside » Fri Nov 25, 2011 5:43 pm

Truth and the Teapot

© Stephen Whiteside 25.11.2011


TRUTH STARES AT THE TEAPOT.
 
NOT TO BE INTIMIDATED, THE TEAPOT STARES RIGHT BACK.
 
Director:
Stop right there! What is Truth supposed to look like? You can’t see Truth! What are you going to use? A big yellow sheet? Some sort of misty veil?
 
Screenwriter:

Oh, for Heaven’s sake! Stop worrying! We’ll work something out. We’ve hardly started, and you’re already complaining!
 
Director:

Well it’s all very well…
 
Screenwriter:

Stow it.
 
It’s a stale-mate. Neither is prepared to back down. The teapot knows it is a teapot, and has nothing to fear from Truth.  Yes, it did try to masquerade as a racing car once, but that was a long time ago, and the teapot had never tried to keep that a secret, anyway. Sure, it was ridiculous. It didn’t have any wheels, for a start. Or a motor. Or a driver. But so what? Lots of people do ridiculous things.  It was just part of its mid life crisis. And it didn’t hurt anybody, so what was the big deal? No, if Truth thought it could intimidate the teapot with that memory, it was sorely mistaken. The teapot was made of much sterner stuff than that.
 
And why was Truth being so aggressive, anyway? What did it have to hide? Perhaps this wasn’t Truth after all. Perhaps this was something else pretending to be Truth as part of its own mid life crisis. Like greed, perhaps. Avarice. Or Envy. Envy could be very deceptive. But masquerading as Truth? That was a bridge too far, surely. To masquerade as Truth was a dangerous game. A very dangerous game. It could shake the Universe to its very foundations.
 
After all, if we can’t tell Truth from its opposite, what do we have? A web of lies that we mistake for Truth? Or sad, maligned Truth that we mistake for a sea of misinformation?
 
What did Albert say about that? Albert Einstein, I mean. Nothing that I can recall. Nothing at all. Sure, he discovered that the speed of light was a constant, and that seemed like a lie at the time. A very big lie. Because it meant, at the time, and still does, of course, that Time was NOT a constant. You had to pick, Albert said. Light or Time. You couldn’t have both. And Albert chose Light. Which seems really weird. But he could only do it because Truth was Truth, and nobody was playing around. It was hard enough as it was. Imagine if Truth had not been Truth. Where would he have been then, I ask you?



So be thankful for the teapot, holding his ground against Truth. Or Imagined Truth. It may well be that, right at that particular point in time, the teapot was the only thing between us and oblivion.
 
Perhaps it has been the teapot all along. Holding Truth to account. Protecting us from impostors. Allowing Einstein and Newton and Galileo and Copernicus and all the others to get on with their very important work uninterrupted, and allow Humanity to progress.
 
But why should the teapot care about Humanity? Because it was invented by Man, I guess. It is the servant of Man. That makes sense. But why must Man then rely on the teapot? Why can’t Man hold Truth accountable himself?



Because he’s too flighty, that’s why. He gets hungry. And thirsty. And tired. And sometimes he just wants to have sex and forget everything. He drops his guard. But the teapot does none of these things. The teapot has no needs. It cares not if the water it holds is hot or cold. It cares not if it is empty of full. It cares not if people drink its tea, or if it stays full for days, until the water is green and foul and full of mosquito larvae. It just doesn’t care. It cannot be deterred from its post, its sense of duty.
 
But if the teapot has no feelings, why does it devote itself so severely to keeping Truth accountable?



Ah, I guess that’s just one of the great mysteries of the Universe. Like the Big Bang. We can’t explain everything.
 
Director:

Does anything actually happen in this film, or is there just one still shot of a teapot sitting beside a bed sheet while the screenwriter has a conversation with himself?
 
Screenwriter:

Fair point. Fair point. I was getting a bit carried away there, wasn’t I.
 
Director:

A bit! I’m going to get a cup of tea. Call me when you’re ready.
 
THE DIRECTOR STEPS IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA AND POURS HIMSELF A CUP OF TEA FROM THE TEAPOT.
 
Screenwriter:

Hey! What do you think you’re doing? This is a film set, you know! You can’t just stroll into the middle of it during a shoot! If you want a cup of tea, go to the green room!
 
Director:
Well at least you now have some action to shoot!
 
Screenwriter:

True. True. Carry on then. But how do you know you will get tea from that teapot? You might get a cup of engine oil instead. Remember it once used to be a racing car. Perhaps it is still a racing car in disguise.
 
Director:

It was never a racing car. It was just pretending to be a racing car, remember? Besides, if it was the other way around, as you suggest, it would wither under Truth’s irresistible gaze.
 
Screenwriter:

But Truth might not be Truth, remember? The teapot is holding Truth accountable, it’s not the other way around.
 
Director:

Perhaps they are both impostors.
 
Screenwriter:

Interesting suggestion. There’s only one way to find out!
 
Director:

And what’s that?



Screenwriter:

Drink your tea!
 
Director:

I’m not sure I want to now. It might be engine oil.
 
Screenwriter:

Well drink your engine oil then. How do you like it? Milk? Sugar?



Director:

You drink it.
 
Screenwriter:

Oh, very well, you big sissy.
 
Director:

Well come on then, tough guy. Drink it.
 
Screenwriter:

I don’t want to.
 
Director:

Well smell it then. That will give you a clue.
 
Screenwriter:

Look at the teapot! It’s got a smug look on its face! I think it’s been tricking us all along!
 
And so indeed was the case. The teapot had been a racing car all along – a racing car pretending to be a teapot as part of its mid life crisis. Truth will always out. Nobody can imitate Truth. Not for long, anyway. And not convincingly. Not Avarice. Not Envy. Nobody.
 
And Truth doesn’t need a big yellow sheet or a misty veil. Truth is Truth. You might not be able to see it. Or smell it. Or hear it. But you can sense it. Truth has a way of letting itself be known. A subtle way.
 
Director:

I suppose you’re right. But it’s a risk, you know. Just the teapot on stage by itself.
 
Screenwriter:

The teapot is not entirely alone. You make a cameo appearance yourself, don’t forget.
 
Director:

That is true. And I am very handsome.
 
Screenwriter:

You are indeed very handsome. Your talents are wasted behind the camera.
 
Director:

Do you really think so?



Screenwriter:

I know so.
 
But it was no use. Truth had not yet retired to its caravan. It turned to face the screenwriter, who promptly turned a bright shade of red!

 
Stephen Whiteside, Australian Poet and Writer
http://www.stephenwhiteside.com.au

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