I have long been interested in epistemology, even before I knew the word for it.
At first I wondered how people with access to the same information that I had and with similar educational and cultural backgrounds could come to opinions and beliefs that were wildly different from mine.
In my self-centered youth I assumed it was just to piss me off. But when I carefully explained to folks how stupid their opinions were, with well researched data and irrefutable arguments, I got less than optimal results.
In one case someone at work grabbed me from behind and threw me on the ground from the worktable I was sitting on, eating lunch. As the sole hippy working in an early-70s welding shop full of rednecks my audience wasn’t ready for my well-thought-out and irrefutable arguments in favor of legalizing weed.
Sometimes life lessons hurt. Like how to read a room.
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