Sometimes we meet people whose emotional and intellectual processes are so simple that we are tempted to compare them to one-celled organisms. It is not their fault. Many things shape thinking and feeling—family, friends, schools, colleagues, books, music, etc—and all of these contribute to a person’s taste, inclinations and actions. The one-celled organism, on the other hand, acts and reacts according to primeval programming. A person who is akin to a one-celled organism is therefore more instinctive than analytical. Thoughts and actions are geared towards two basic goals: survival and self-satisfaction.
It’s a wonder then when we find ourselves interested in these simple life forms. Perhaps we see the one-celled organism as a break from ourselves and everything that our life represents. Or more prosaically, we’re bored and want something different. It’s a novel way to pass the time.
But by doing so, do we compromise ourselves, even if momentarily? How far can we go before we get lost? To what degree will we regret it?
Postscript: Had a brush with an old one-celled organism. I was disgusted and I was cruel. Damn these one-celled harlots to hell!
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