Dead Right

It's really funny how some of us like to be dead right about everything in life, but wish to steer clear of anything that's even remotely linked to death.

Try to hide it under the garb of anxiety disorders and irrational fears, call it Necrophobia, Thanatophobia or some other phobia, the fact of the matter is we discreetly hate the dead and departed, despite the 'anniversary' love we shower on them without fail, for ceaselessly and circuitously reminding us of our own impermanence and mortality. Hence that special timbre in announcing that so and so is no more, or the crafty use of words in the loose motion of emotions pervading the all pervading Facebook memorials, as if to say: heaps of salutations we'll continue to pay, but pray, for heaven's sake, stay away!

And of course, we have the pet intellectual notion called the fallacy of infinite regress to claim that the tangible soles of our shoes down below matter more than some absurd reference to few imaginary souls watching us from up above. We are in any case very selective about our choices: when to peddle our muddled notions of cultivated pragmatism, and when to pledge allegiance to good old family values and traditions.

We demand a frame of reference for everything we wish to avoid, both in thought and conversation, but we know very well we don't have the right frame of mind to demand any frame, whether of reference or preference. And there is one frame, we feel, is too lowly for reference: the frame of deference.

We are dead right. More dead than right - dead right!