Tupperware People

My wife observes that “most people are made of Tupperware.”

A brilliant image, that works in a variety of ways. Plastic, mass produced, without a soul, materialistic, out for the main chance, superficially attractive, morally plastic, adaptable to whatever the environment requires, concealing, cheap, ready to prostitute friendships for material gain.

Obviously, many others feel the same way; that perception is surely behind the current craze for zombies. Soulless living dead interested only in eating their neighbour.

Is this too cruel? If so many see others as zombies, can it really be true? Is it only true when we view others from a distance? If we knew them well, if we loved them, if they were members of our own family, would we still see them as Tupperware people?

On reflection, I think we would. My wife responds that there are indeed Tupperware people in her own family. My good friend says the same about his. We’ll leave mine out of this, for now.

And the Bible says the same thing. Most people are not on the path; most people are made of Tupperware. “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it.”

Not that anyone is soulless; but in some the soul is no more than a low flicker, a pilot light, while in others it is a blinding fire almost visible behind the eyes. We all have an inner zombie. We all have Tupperware shells of different thicknesses.

A good measure of how zombified we are is how we respond to art; another is how we respond to humour. Another is whether we are depressive. Since the least zombified are the ones who are most inclined to appreciate art—not high art, but real art--there is still a large audience for art that portrays a zombie-apocalyptic view of the world.