When you die, you're dead

If the title of this column makes you shrug because you think it makes pretty good sense, you are probably a card-carrying member of the State The Obvious Club. 

If the title makes you shriek and whack the person nearest you in frustration, you are correct.

Like it or not, the world is full to overflowing with state-the-obviousers. If you’re on facebook, you meet them all the time.

A picture of something awful, maybe an abused animal, will be posted, with the comment, “This is so sad!” 

You don’t say.

I don’t mind it on facebook, because it provides irate people a chance to make snide remarks in response. In the real world, though, snarking at state-the-obviousers (STO) can be exhausting and time-consuming.

The STO, standing outside in the pouring rain, unfortunately right beside you: “Wow, it’s raining!” 

“Oh? You don’t say. Thanks for the heads up on that, because I didn’t notice the rain through the raindrops covering my glasses.”

Next day, heading out the door, the STO pauses and says, “I have to go to the store now, I think I’ll walk.” So far so good, the person is just stating intentions, not the obvious. Then they ruin everything by adding, as though divulging hot-off-the-presses information, “The store is only a block away . . .” and then, oblivious to the sensitive nature of the listener, they drive the nail further in by finishing with a flourish, “and it’s a sunny day.”

I grew up in a family of minimalists who never stated the obvious. There was an assumption that if, for example, one of us said ‘let’s go’, that everybody would instinctively know where, when, how and why.

If we had ever been out in the middle of nowhere and one of us was hurt, the scenario would have played out something like this:

“Oh no! I fell, and the knife I was carrying just went right through me. What should I do?” said a hapless member of the family, over-explaining through tears.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” said all members of the family, in disgust.

“No, seriously, I’m dying here, what should I do?”

“Well, if you can’t figure it out, there’s not much hope for you, is there.”

“Oh, okay.” said the victim, and died.

I don’t think my parents over-explained a single thing, ever. They barely explained, much less over-explained. They felt that you could either figure it out or not, and that was bloody well that. 

And now, decades later, I am surrounded by a daughter and husband who are card-carrying members of the State The Obvious Club. The scenario above would play out very differently with this group.

Victim (oh let’s face it, probably me) falls on the knife, and lies there gasping, because what is there to say, really. It’s obvious what is going on. 

Heather: “Is that a knife sticking in you?”

Jim: “That looks as though it would hurt.”

Heather: “Mum, that knife seems like a really bad thing. Are you okay with it?”

Jim: “A knife sticking in you will harm your body.”

Heather: “Mum, it might be a good idea to remove that knife.”

Jim: “Is that why you’re lying on the ground making those godawful noises?”

Heather: “Did the knife go in when you fell?”

Jim: “Are you bleeding?”

Heather: “I think she is. Bleeding happens when you have a knife sticking in you.”

Jo: “Oh god, just let me die now.” and died.

This article is written by or on behalf of an outsourced columnist and does not necessarily reflect the views of Castanet.