"Look wise, say nothing, and grunt. Speech was given to conceal thought."

William Osler, M.D.

At any given visit to the menagerie, the particular subspecies of Homo booboisie may vary but a representative sampling will undoubtedly be present. My particular favorite is what I have named as the "impressionist". Before we continue, let me assure you that, unlike the traditional use of this word, my usage does not refer to the school of artists that includes Monet, Renoir and others. While my favorite humanoid is an "artist" (in a fashion), they have nothing to do with putting brush to canvas and their best work is not on display in any museum. Regardless of the confusion involved in using this word for my subspecies, it is just too descriptive to pass up.

My "impressionists" are concerned entirely with making a favorable "impression" on everyone they interact with and, therefore, the reason I usurp the art world’s phraseology. You know who they are and, while probably not thinking of them in this particular way, have conversed with the subspecies throughout your life. To better introduce you to these wonderful creatures, imagine a conversation at a party. Suppose, you are talking to a married couple you have know for years and haven’t seen since you and your wife moved into your new house. As the conversation progresses, our impressionist - we will call him "Robert" (he hates to be called "Bob") - enters. Follow along, if you please:

You: "Yeah, Margie and I just had to move out of the city into something a little larger. We have the two girls now and were just too crowded in the old house."

Friend: "I can understand that. Where did you guys move?"

You: "We went all the way out to Moody; we liked their schools and the market was pretty good for new houses out there."

[Enter Robert, the impressionist, stage left]

Friend’s wife: "What kind of house did you get?"

You: "We managed to get a 4 bedroom just a few miles from the high school. We really like it and the girls seem to be finding some kids to hang around with even before school has started."

Friend: "Hi, Robert. Jim was just telling us about his new house in Moody."

Robert: "I have heard that Moody is not as nice as it used to be. We moved about two years ago and bought in Hoover which, everyone agrees, is about as nice a section of town as you can get. Moody was nice enough in the 90s but the best builders are sticking to Hoover and the south side of town now."

Friend’s wife: "I don’t know, Robert. Moody is awfully nice and the homes are more reasonable out there. Hoover just seems a little steep for most families."

[You and your friend nod in agreement with his wife]

Robert: "Sure, if you are worried about money or having trouble making ends meet, I guess Moody would do. Fortunately, since my stock picks have been kicking butt and I got promoted to Assistant VP, we have been able to buy nothing but the best. I haven’t had to ‘settle’ for anything in years. By the way, did you see my new ride? I paid cash a couple months ago for a BMW convertible. I felt like I deserved it. What do you drive?"

[He looks at you as he asks the question]

You: [A little taken back by Robert’s lack of tact] "Er...ah...I drive a Taurus. My wife has a newer van for the girls."

Robert: "A Taurus? One of my assistants bought one of those a few weeks back and everyone tells him how silly it looks. I admit, he’s kind of a nerd, but they have been brutal on him. I paid $50 thousand for my Beamer and no one makes fun of me. What did you pay for your house out in the sticks?

You: "Me? My house in Moody?"

[You look uncomfortably at your friend and his wife. They appear as flabbergasted as you.]

Robert: "Yeah, what’d you get 4 bedrooms? How much did you pay?"

You: "I think it was somewhere around $200 thousand but it was a corner lot."

[Trying your best to retain your dignity]

Robert: "Yeah, I was right. I thought property was seriously losing its value out there. People are moving out in droves. I paid nearly $350 thousand for our house 2 years ago and it already appraises at almost half-a-million. Of course, it is 5 bedrooms and has a pool."

Friend: "Robert, why did you have your house appraised? You have only been in it a couple years."

Robert: "Er...ah...." [Clearly, your friend has caught Robert in one of his frequent lies] "I was just getting my net worth figures updated. I was considering putting some more of my liquidity into the market."

This little snippet should be familiar for anyone who has run across the impressionist. They are not interested in hearing about your life (except as it provide material for their ultimate purpose) or carrying on anything that might resemble a conversation. The only purpose for the impressionist to attend any social gathering or speak to anyone is to impress upon them how important and powerful he (or she) is. This he attempts to accomplish by talking up, typically, what he assumes to be important to everyone else, that is, his money, possessions, job, etc.

The problem, of course, with the impressionist’s logic is simply that what he thinks will impress everyone will, in truth, only impress those who are as shallow as he or she is. To the utter chagrin of the impressionists, there are still a few rare Americanos who care more about the character of their fellow humanoids - their beliefs, value system, culture, manners and deportment - and, generally, care not a whit about how much money or what possessions anyone has. A few of us, relics of a much earlier age, have little interest (much less envy) of those who actually are or, often more likely, appear to be more prosperous than we. In point of fact, we of the ancient times are never more easily bored than in the presence of the impressionists.

When you get to my age, what other people have, materially speaking, is absolutely of no interest to me. I freely admit that I (and the few like me) are the distinct minority. I also agree that the growing number of impressionists can always find an audience for their form of conversation. There is always a majority (principally composed of equally-shallow adults and the impressionable young) who revel in the presence of the impressionists. As a side note, if you want to really have fun, sit in on a congregation of 4 or 5 impressionists and watch the competition among them to impress each other; it can sometimes rival Olympic intensity. In the world of early man, this was called "mine if bigger than yours"; it is still practiced even today.

But, for me, I will continue to play the neutral observer of the subspecies whenever I can. I find their attempts to impress others that their lives are interesting and noteworthy and, in the process, receive the affirmation they so desperately seek, a thoroughly fascinating experience. The machinations they will undertake to convince their listeners - and themselves - that they are a "cut above" the great mass of mankind only convinces me that they are, at their core, seriously (often pathologically) insecure and incomplete people.

It would be no small tragedy if I actually thought the impressionists were conscious of what we fossils know about them. But, oblivious to their driving engines, they are immune to such concerns and they remain as transparent as glass. It makes observing them and being secretly bemused by them evoke less guilt in me. I do wish that they might, someday, discover that unrelated to their external possessions, they are people of worth and interesting in their own right, but it’s unlikely.

The greatest truth to understand is simply this: all that is really important can be cultivated and summoned from within and not purchased from without.