Because I can …
Words. Language. Semantics. Just three words but three words with such negative connotation. Remove the first, however, and one is left with ‘I can’, the complete opposite. For ‘I can’ is to be applauded. Positive, strong, defiant, determined … willing. ‘Because I can …’? Egotistical. Devoid of consideration for others. Could be a mantra for life today.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it, actually, on a wider scale but, also, on a personal level in recent years – and days, even. ‘Because I can … ‘. Think about it. In effect, it’s a reneging of responsibility. It doesn’t matter how it affects anyone else, I can get away with it; works for me! Of course, that’s the attitude of the adulterer. Illuminating. A cry for attention? Rather a selfish act of cowardice.
‘Because I can …’ I know it’s wrong. I know someone will be hurt as a result but I am being pulled both ways. Ignoring my conscience, it benefits me so I’ll just go along with it, because I can. He/she’ll get over it, always does. Maybe. Maybe not but is it worth hurting someone because I can or merely the former, once again: a selfish act of cowardice?
‘No man is an island …’ The profound words of John Donne (as opposed to Jon Bon Jovi!). My mantra. Everything one does affects somebody else. Every decision, every action impinges on another. Truth be told, that little voice in one’s head is ever-present but all too often is ignored. Practice makes perfect, I suppose, and the more one ignores one’s conscience, the easier it becomes; the more one stops caring. In a world full of good guys and bad guys, I brought my children up acutely aware of the implication of John Donne’s words but, now, I’m not sure I have done them any favour. This is a ruthless, dog-eat-dog world in which nice people – Betsy, our English teacher, abhorred that word! – kind, thoughtful, sensitive people, then, are all too often taken advantage of or walked all over. All too often, there is no thanks for going that extra mile while the selfish and egotistical seem to reap all the rewards. How does that work? Why? Because they can?
As one who has long aspired to be a published author – and who has put her heart and soul into her first memoir/future bestseller/film/mini-series, very nearly completed – I am all too aware of the plethora of books flooding the market, supposedly ‘penned’ by every Z-list ‘celebrity’ in the land! No longer restricted to Christmas, they are everywhere, many attributed to those who have minimum grasp of the English vernacular let alone the written word. No need. They don’t write a word! Nothing more than a name, each is merely a marketing tool; a money-making puppet to be milked for his/her fame. Money, money, money. In partnership with three words: ‘Because I can …‘ Three words which belittle one: ‘integrity’.
I happened to be reading an article about the BBC the other day in which was listed the salaries of their top-paid employees. Ah, yes, it was in regard to the ‘wholesome’ Huw Edwards, the once highly-respected anchor man who, last year, cowardly managed to avoid all backlash arising from the revelations of his sordid, seedy double life by citing mental health issues. He could and he did. Turns out he became the third highest-paid presenter last year with a £40,000 pay rise despite being suspended for nine months. Edwards – now a confirmed sexual predator – earned £480,000 between March 2023 and April 2024. Because he could!
Gary Lineker tops the earning chart with a meagre salary of £1,354,999 for the year – saving the world! – but I found the second highest-paid name more interesting: Zoe Ball. Seriously? She earned £954,999 for getting up at 3.30am for a few months of the year and chatting into a microphone … I continue to awaken to Radio 2 of a morning – largely because I am technically inept – and I used to like Zoe Ball. However, she is prone to a holiday or twenty and that has begun to irk. Commanding a salary of that level while regularly in absentia does not cut it but, then, she’s Zoe Ball, a name and she can.
As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago when writing about Wimbledon, I found it utterly ridiculous to watch Alcaraz’s performance at the end of his matches: taking his sponsored expensive watch from his bag and adorning for all five minutes of the post-match interview. He changed his shoes, too, putting on his sponsored trainers. How embarrassing! They’re all at it, though, if, perhaps, less obviously. The sponsored caps worn even when the roof was closed and the rain teeming down outside, not an iota of sunlight to warrant such attire. Money. Millions to be made. No end to the avenues to be milked. Granted, at the top of their sport, they have earned the right to exploit every opportunity afforded them but … the word tacky comes to mind, as do vulgar and tasteless. Are there any limits? When does too much become enough? Seemingly never. The word ‘celebrity’ is now synonymous with a blank cheque. How sad. Ironically, I shall always remember Gary Lineker when, in 1991, his first son, George, was diagnosed with a rare form of leukaemia at six weeks old. He and his wife kept a bedside vigil at his side in Great Ormond Street. Already a multi-millionaire, he said he would trade it all for his baby’s health. Similarly – and more recently – Michael Bublé, when his little boy was diagnosed with cancer … Hollow words, ‘because I can’. Hollow words. A currency not recognised by the powers above.
‘What profits a man who gains the whole world only to lose his soul?’
Adapted from Mark 8: 36.
This is Trish, signing off
