Hope, Addiction and Oprah

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If time is a river that flows inexorably onwards then let's allow ourselves to sink for a moment, to settle to the bottom, sifting down through the deposited sands of past years until we find ourselves somewhere in the early 90's. Let's settle into the fake wood panelled opulence of a trailer court mobile home, where towering, phallic speakers push blunt walls of sound out into the smoky air and the furniture smells vaguely of marijuana. Well, maybe not that vaguely.

A cacophony of bright, eager voices erupts from the speakers in carefully choreographed disarray; smiling young voices of incredible keenness and optimism. Across from me, Marcus is listening too intently to the words of the educational sales tape.

You see, hope, wary nomads, is an anaesthetic.

"Super Blue-Green Algae changed my life!" An enthusiastic voice on the tape cries out, to rousing hallelujahs from an invisible roundtable of apostles. The apostles throw in their bets and up the ante - helps you sleep at night, increases your sex drive, improves memory, raises your IQ, makes your skin clear and healthy, makes you funny and sociable. The list rolls on. I'm rolling on the floor.

"I think I'm going to try some," Marcus announces.

"What? Marcus, no! It's a scam."

"You think it's a scam?"

"Of course it's a scam, it's a classic cure-all potion; a panacea. Think about it, seaweed that cures all known physical, emotional and social ailments that you could possibly have! It's a scam."

"I'm going to make up my own mind. I'm not afraid of trying new things."

"Marcus! Dear God man, one of the people talking on that tape about how algae changed their life is the guy who's trying to sell it to you! And he's not looking all that good!"

"Well, I'm going to try it. If it doesn't work I just won't buy more."

Enough of that - my apologies for dragging you through that unfortunate display, but it was necessary. Let's come back now and rejoin the flow, shall we, before the sands pack tight around us and we are forever trapped in the past; doomed to shuffle about in our old high-school jackets.

You see, hope, wary nomads, is an anaesthetic.

Hope is what sells Super Blue-Green Algae. Hope is what sells Penis Enlargement pills, electrical muscle flexing gizmos (build muscle without exercise!) and how-to-pick-up-women videotapes. Hope causes people to buy these things even though no one in their right mind could believe that they actually work.

This is precisely what makes hope so damn dangerous.

Of course, hope is also a necessity. Double edged sword, huh? That's always the way.