History

I’m bitter about history. It seems to me that the wrong people keep getting the credit. History would have us believe that we can’t Make a Difference. “We” being people like me who have never commanded armies or reduced national debts or basically done anything beyond significantly contributing to the wine-making industry. I have this theory. It’s not a great theory, and I haven’t actually researched it in the strictest sense of the word (unless research involves lots of wine). My theory goes thus: History has sod all to do with big socio-economic changes and has everything to do with two (maybe more, I haven’t worked out the precise calculations on this bit) people having a chat. Probably in a bar. Think about it. If Lewis and Clark’s mates had told them Westward Expansion was a stupid idea we’d never have got California. Which means we’d have never got L.A. or the Sierra Valley. Which would have deprived the world of not only the productions of the very talented Mr. Steven Spielberg, but also wine (have you spotted the recurring theme yet?). And if Bill Gates, one night in, say, a bar had got obsessed with auto repair while talking to Simon, the mechanic who fixed his neighbour’s Dodge Neon, I would be reduced to writing this lengthy, ill-thought-out, slightly insane diatribe with such primitive implements as paper and pen (or, shudder, a Mac). Instead Bill got obsessed with computers and I sit in front of my shiny laptop afraid to touch many of the buttons for fear of bringing on a worldwide disaster of some kind. So, in a way, we have Simon to thank for the wonder that is modern PCs. Because, presumably, he was not in the bar when Bill was making this crucial decision over whether he should fix cars or make billions of dollars creating computers that scare the living daylights out of the average person (the average person being me). But does Simon even get a mention in the history books? No. Not even a footnote. Which brings me back (in a shaky, around-the-houses kind of way) to my point: History makes me bitter. I firmly believe that without the influence of me, and many like me, history would be vastly different. I’m speaking, of course, of friends (“friends” is a loose term here, meaning “anyone you happen to have had a drink with”). I’m certain that without the support of his friends George W Bush would never have been president. I’ll leave the repercussions of that particular historical moment to your own imaginations. And I believe with mis-guided certainty that had Isaac Newton not gone out with his mates, got absolutely blasted, fallen asleep in a drunken stupor under an apple tree and got hit on the head, gravity would never have been invented and we’d all float around and someone would have to have invented jet-packs (which would have been pretty cool, actually). Call me crazy if you wish. But these are my beliefs and unless you want to be branded an intolerant un-PC neanderthal you will not mock me for them. Despite the fact that I am, quite clearly, crazy. And I will get back to the point and the main crux of this piece which is: History makes me bitter. Because I am part of it. I changed history. “Surely not!” I hear you cry. “Surely yes!” I cry back. And here is my tale, belated as it has been by my meandering babblings. I have a friend. Let’s call him “Dave”. Mainly because his name is “Dave”. Dave and I were drinking heavily one night when Dave turned to me and asked me whether I thought he should become an actor. In my wine-fuelled state I weighed up the pros and cons, aware on some level that Dave was entrusting me with a decision that would change his future, and I said;
“Cool.” Dave took my salient advice, along with the slightly more salient advice I offered the next morning and did indeed become an actor. And a very successful one. Years later Dave and I were drunk again (or possibly drunk still) and he asked my advice concerning a movie he was considering taking a part in. The movie would be a Milestone in Movie Making History. It would change the Way We Made Movies. It would Break Boundaries. It was, of course, an action movie. Again, I carefully mulled over the options and said;
“Cool.” Dave took the part. The film was very successful. Dave and I went to the premiere in LA and got drunk. Some months later the family of the character Dave played got very upset about the portrayal of their loved one in the movie. The family sued. Dave did NOT come to me for advice, he went to a lawyer. Who counter-sued (it being America and all). Much counter-suing and many other legal terms went on until it was this family against the entire movie industry of Hollywood. Unfortunately, and contrary to popular prediction, Hollywood lost and was hurled into a major, sorry that should be, Major economic crisis (the capital ‘m’ is important, trust me). The American film industry were now incapable of making action-packed blockbusters with names like ‘Room With A View of Hell’ and had to make movies with names like ‘Room With a Chair In It”. Now, you may say that I had less to do with this collapse of an empire than, for example, the lawyers, the jury, the judge, almost everyone in Hollywood and Dave himself. BUT if I hadn’t said ‘cool’ in all the right places Dave would never have been an actor, would never have taken that part and upset the sue-happy family and Hollywood would never have lost all of its money because of a trial that spun wildly out of control. So, as you can see, this particular part of history was all down to me... I should possibly have consulted a lawyer before writing this.