Evening. I'm in the kitchen. Chinese soup gets cold in a bowl, tv talks about inflation, and disco polo comes from a neighboring flat again. So I do what each of us does at moments like this – I scroll. Twitter. I'll just take a look, just for a minute, I promise myself like an alcoholic before entering the Frog.
And abruptly it is. Thomas Lis. All the way. Another entry, another volley. Again, something about “cataliban”, “dark”, “szabesgoy”, individual who does not deserve to be in his Euro-centric universe. And emoji. specified vicious, cynical, which does not mean ‘peace’, but ‘*******’. In all possible variety...
I'm looking at it and I don't believe it. But not due to the fact that it shocks me. Not anymore. This is not the minute “O God, what is he doing?” It is alternatively tired “again you, Tom... again”.
Because Tomasz Lis – the Thomas who utilized to sit behind a desk on TVP, before it was fashionable, this Lis from “What about this Poland?”, the 1 from the cover of “Newsweek”, who tried to form a public debate, to be the Polish equivalent of CNN, may even dream of being our Jon Stewart – he is sitting present in pyjamas, most likely with a laptop on his knees and releasing a stream of contempt on 280 characters. Again and again. It's like it's triggering serotonin.
And I'm sitting here, reading this shit, and I feel like I'm looking at a guy who's not so much lost a debate as he's forgotten that he's always led it. He's not talking anymore. He doesn't explain anymore. He's just barking. On his terms, on his terms. Against those he thought were garbage a long time ago.
I'm not a conservative. That would be besides easy. "Oh, yeah, the right picks on Lisa due to the fact that he doesn't like his worldview." Bullshit. The problem is, I utilized to perceive to Lisa. Sometimes I agreed with him. Not much. But he was a voice. Even if a man disagreed with him, he considered him. due to the fact that he had style, a workshop, any effort to realize reality. present all he has is simply a keyboard and time.
And it's not like he's getting old, losing contact with the young. No, it's not. He's losing contact with reality. Anything but your own algorithm. due to the fact that these are his posts, they're not thoughts. These are tribal messages. Like he's a shaman in any fucking liberal bush. And he waves that rattle of prejudice, signals and phrases. To collect the sages. To feel important. So they won't forget it.
And I look at it, and I see an older guy who erstwhile had everything — position, prestige, voice — and he blew it up with his own hands. due to the fact that he couldn't shut up. due to the fact that he must have been right. due to the fact that without Twitter there is no "me".
And then I think: it's not just Lisa. It's all that liberal salon elite that was expected to be an alternate to PiS paranoia. They were expected to be smarter. Easy, easy. And present they look like a bunch of frustrated boomers in short-sleeved shirts, who, by vodka, share screenshots from Twitter and run the same sweats about "catothalibach" as if it were a revelation. They send them to household groups on WhatsApp, to friends, even to people who have long since silenced them. But they don't stop. due to the fact that if they don't, it's like they're gone.
There's something sad about that. Something so patheticly human. It's like individual who's taught people their full lives to talk, abruptly lost their ability to talk.
And a man sits there with that Chinese soup, with that unloaded phone, and he thinks, is there truly no 1 close to him? No 1 who would give him tea took that damn telephone and said: “Tomek, take it. Hang up for a second. Rest. Be quiet.”
