Wallace's thoughts about the nature of Freedom and Choice are presented in the form of a midnight conversation in the middle of the desert between a man dressed as a woman and a legless member of terroist cell. The powerful and bizzare imagery of this scene aside, I think that Wallace is raising a very tricky question here: Namely, is there such a thing as real choice?
The American vision of freedom is one where each individual is free, and encouraged, to choose his/her path from an endless array of limitless alternatives, all open to anyone smart enough or motivated enough to "just do it" or who believes "impossible is nothing". But in reality, aren't our actual choices defined and limited by, as many have been pointing out, the languages available to us?
This is the essential problem of The Entertainment (and Substance use). If my culture is constatnly telling me, in a thousand different ways, that absolute freedom is the desired ideal, and that I should excersize my right to do whatever will give me pleasure, how free am I, in fact, to choose [i]not[/i] to do it?
Probably less free than I would like to think.
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