We have entered the Binarycene, an epoch with only two ways to consider any topic. Things are either good or bad, left or right, proficient or incompetent, fraudulent or forthright. I am thankful we have a chainsaw-wielding oracle to divine whether we embrace zero or one.
I have ordered a red, white, and blue sequin accessory kit for my chainsaw. I wish to repent for an article I wrote in this space last year when I insisted, with academic backing, that there are four kinds of people. I know now that to investigate nuance is bad juju.
To rectify my wrongness, I offer a more politically correct take on the types of people who surround us. I now assert that there are just two kinds of people. I have extensive field experience and have discussed my findings with a 20-year-old I met in line at the vape shop. He loved my conversion story and agreed that the less diversity in my thinking, the better.
The most obvious binary is takers and givers. Several years ago, I attended a talk by William Sieghart, author of “The Poetry Pharmacy,” at Daunt Books in London. After the event, I lined up at a cash register offering books that Siegart had signed. A woman who did not get in line watched the dwindling pile of autographed books nervously, then jumped in front of me when just one was left. The cashier looked the woman in the eyes and said, “Madame, this man was next,” nodding at me. There, on the precipice of propriety, an abyss flew open. The woman was sucked into a dark chasm of shame. I tucked my signed book into my bag and leered. It felt so good. Little did I know then that the satisfaction of shaming others would be so handy in the Binarycene.
Business Shouters . . . are people, usually White men, who walk around in public talking telephonically to Helene at the home office about how many units need to move this week. They over-enthusiastically tell Helene and every living being within 100 hundred yards that it will be hell to pay if she can’t find somebody to move those units.
I observe Sitters and Launchers. The phenomenon is most evident in ganged seating arrangements — doctors’ offices, movie theaters, the Department of Motor Vehicles, etc. You have just planted your posterior gently on the Naugahyde when an offending neighbor lands bedside you as if launched from a helicopter rescue basket into the bay of a Black Hawk. I posit that Launchers inhabit a parallel universe and are deployed by Lizard People to antagonize Gentle Sitters among us. The same astro-vortex no doubt deploys Hotel Room Door Slammers. They typically operate between the hours of 10 pm and 10 am, when Gentle Door Closers attempt sleep.
What is it with Right Passers? Most of us live our lives in the middle lane. We tool along at nine miles over the posted speed limit until our passenger doors are blown off by phantoms that never exist in our blind spots. Left Passers are so predictable and loveable. Why can’t everybody be like them?
The Binarycene is full of so many familiar pairs. Hatters and No Hatters. Puzzlers and No Puzzlers. Breakfast Coffees or Juicers. Baggy Pants or Skinny Pants. Shouters or Whisperers.
My favorite Shouters are Business Shouters. They are people, usually White men, who walk around in public talking telephonically to Helene at the home office about how many units need to move this week. They over-enthusiastically tell Helene and every living being within 100 hundred yards that it will be hell to pay if she can’t find somebody to move those units. Crickets and birds stop chirping to hear Helene weep.
A newly minted Binarycene pair are Workers and Non-Workers, a necessary evolutionary step in our era of mass efficiency. Luckily, thanks to the genius of the Governor of Virginia, there has emerged a mystical blending of this dichotomy, whereby Workers who don’t appreciate the luxury of becoming Non-Workers can take advantage of Governor Youngkin’s ingenuity. For example, operating room nurses can upskill in our new less-fraudulent society. They can use their sure-pass sterile instrument technique to hand off bags of burgers and fries at drive-thru windows.
