Feature: #traincouple – The Facts Of The Matter
Now we have a number of bits of information, but as anybody who has ever set about putting a flat-pack shelving ‘system’ together knows, pieces of information do not a carpenter make. We know that #traincouple arrive separately, we know they depart separately, we know he works in town, we know she needs a bus and we know that he is married.
As any good scientist knows, you can only work with the facts you have. More facts lead to a better understanding of a situation; however, in the world of trainstalking, exacting experimental controls is proving difficult. I could resort to traincouple quackery and extrapolate wildly inaccurate claims from the data, like the daily shite I get on my Facebook feed, the kind usually preempted by lines like ‘Stuff your doctor doesn’t want you to know’ or ‘Share this and upset the evil pharmaceutical companies’.
Look. There is a large amount of stuff doctors don’t want you to know, like how many hours it takes to remove a light bulb from somebody’s rectum, or what it’s like to work on a dying patient. They do not, however, want to keep vital facts from you.
The Facebile I’m subjected to most commonly these days involves some household item an onion, or bread soda, or snail juice, and its miraculous cancer ‘killing’ properties. Truly, medicine must be staffed by the most incompetent women and men on earth if the mere application of raw coconut to the affected area could have you growing back severed limbs and preventing your arse from hitting the back of your knees. This is, of course, a method of enquiry exploited for financial gain by Shams, Crooks, Quacks and Charlatans of all persuasions, the unfortunate side effect being a lack of appreciation for the fact that science is trying to find the cure, but science relies on facts. I can tell you straight up that there’s a lot of things that kill cancer cells; the problem is that cancer cells and regular cells are pretty similar, so targeting specific cells in a living organism, as opposed to ex vivo (in dish in a lab), is very difficult.
Oh I can hear them now, chomping at their wheatgrass shakes and shaking anemic-toned fists in the air. ‘Science doesn’t know everything!’ No, it does not. But it gives you the best information based on the facts available; it doesn’t just make a leap like ‘They arrive on the train separately, ergo they are having an illicit affair’. Facts are what I have; my brain, desiring narrative and completeness, wants desperately to fill in the rest of the story but alas I cannot. I’m not a writer. I can barely keep myself entertained with this story. I am just bored, on a train, a brain floating in a jar, wandering the rails of Ireland at a shockingly bad hour.
So, with our science hats on, let’s go back to the initial facts. Do we know he is married? For sure? Forever? Perhaps he’s a widower, reluctant to lose the band that tied him to the love of his life. Perhaps SHE is the love of his life and dislikes rings. Perhaps she lost it. Where? I don’t know… do you? Why do they arrive separately? Perhaps they take two cars? Perhaps they finish at different times? Have we ever seen them drive; have I mentioned cars? What other facts did you fill in?
BUT you scream, #traincouple are NICE TO EACH OTHER… and perhaps here is where we must all hang our heads in shame. IF they are married, to EACH OTHER, why did we think it far more probable that their hand-holding affection was closer to a sign of infidelity than long-term commitment.
Go wash your brain out with soap, you filthy minded folk.