...people who, after being informed of something they previously knew nothing about, magnanimously volunteer a trite observation as if it is the most signifcant statement ever made and they're doing you a favour by sharing:
"...and that's why we needed to replace the fuel filter in the car," said Gerald, wiping the grease off his hands with a rag and slamming the hood. Angela had been observing his activities with rapidly increasing interest. She stared at the car silently for a moment.
"You know what?" she said suddenly, her voice rising in excitement. "I bet that'll stop that weird slushing noise!" Angela paused, and looked expectantly at Gerald who should be nodding in agreement, perhaps with a little bit of awe in his eyes. Clearly, she had found the perfect solution to all automotive troubles everywhere, forevermore.
They would never need to take the bus again.
Seriously. What is the matter with people? Are they so self-absorbed that they assume there can be no kind of knowledge without their acknowledgement?
There's this great bit in Tom Stoppard's Arcadia where Thomasina asks: "Septimus, has anyone ever thought of this before?" demonstrating not only her own insufferable pretention but also the author's. It's classic Stoppard - only he would be so egocentric as to have a character declare how fucking orignal his writing is safely within the veil of dramatic fiction. Every time I read that play I want to throttle them both. Ugh.
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