It seems there are two kinds of people who populate my town: those who are certain they are better than everyone else, and those who actually believe those people. Unfortunately, most of the population fits firmly in the former category; fortunately, each one of them is a humor novel waiting to be written.
I have yet to meet a pretentious person who isn’t funny – unintentionally, but still. They always seem to be asserting their superiority in the most frivolous ways, like by buying expensive SUVs just for the abundance of oversized mirrors in which to stare at themselves while they drive. That’s fine, but the only reason to buy a monster-sized vehicle is to take it to Costco. Yet pretentious people refuse to browse stores that don’t provide shopping bags. When they purchase their Brie and Chateau Margaux, they would not like it handed to them in an emptied Jack Link’s turkey jerky carton, thank you. If only they realized how much more rewarding it is to take up two parking spaces at Costco than at Tiffany’s, perhaps they’d stoop to shopping there on occasion.
Is affectedness a permanent affliction? According to a medical journal I read, assholes are not reversible – yet. There’s a plastic surgeon in Santa Barbara working on that. But what if it weren’t an enduring disorder? What if people who pooh-poohed commonplace staples like ketchup, or compassion, could change their perspective on life? How could that happen? And why would they consent to such a nonsensical transformation?
I truly believe there is a measure of good imprisoned within most pretentious people. It’s always hidden, unlike their highly visible six-carat diamonds or eight thousand square foot winter homes. It may not ever show it’s pretty face, but it’s there.
How then might goodness ever depose obnoxiousness? It’s not likely to happen without outside help; without someone bold enough to take on the challenge and strong enough to deflect the condescension – someone like Lily Hanover.
Lily isn’t pretentious, nor does she approve of those who are. She’s not afraid to apprise Evelyn and Sidney Banks of their social impairment. She sees the good in them. She wants to educate them and encourage them. And she wants them to open their eyes for some reason other than a lid tuck. She might have bitten off more than she can chew. We’ll have to see.
Who is this Lily? She’s a character in my new Second Wind Publishing release, The Weight of the Moon. She’s not a superhero. She’s just a beautiful adult-film star who wishes people were more real – and who isn’t repulsed by a bag of turkey jerky.
Photo Credits: Brie courtesy of freefoodphotos.com, Lily courtesy of Cavs Lady, Eye courtesy of Micky Zlimen.