When drawn, this card alters perception itself. It reminds the player that truth is not something one finds under a rock but something one polishes into shape. Each metaphor becomes a spell; each keyword a crutch thrown aside.
Those who wield the Constructivist Lens see not “facts,” but fictions so useful they forgot to call them that. Reality wobbles politely to accommodate belief.
“Knowledge is not a copy of reality but a tool for coping with it.” — Richard Rorty
In game terms: Tap to reframe existence as interpretation. Duration: until the next disagreement.
Ah, yes. Finally, a meme that understands me. I witter on a lot about social constructs, so I was pleased to find this comic cell in the wild.
Image: “I’m telling you, ‘good boy’ is just a social construct they use to control you.”
The dog, ears perked and tail wagging, thinks he’s scored some ontological jackpot because someone called him a “good boy.” Meanwhile, the cat, our resident sceptic, proto-Foucauldian, and natural enemy of obedience, lays it bare: “I’m telling you, ‘good boy’ is just a social construct they use to control you.”
This isn’t just idle feline cynicism. It’s textbook control through language. What passes as phatic speech, little noises to lubricate social interaction, is also a leash on cognition. “Good boy” isn’t descriptive; it’s prescriptive. It doesn’t recognise the act; it conditions the actor. Perform the behaviour, receive the treat. Rinse, repeat, tail wag.
So while Rover is basking in Pavlovian bliss, the cat sees the power play: a semantic cattle prod masquerading as affection.
Call it what you like – “good boy,” “best employee,” “team player,” “patriot” – it’s all the same trick. Words that sound warm but function coldly. Not language as communication, but language as cognitive entrapment.
The dog hears love; the cat hears discipline. One gets tummy rubs, the other gets philosophy.
Philosophics 