“What’s the point?”

That may be the most dangerous question in the English language. Entire meetings have collapsed because someone asked it. Politicians fear it. Teenagers specialize in it. Husbands hear it right before a three-hour discussion they absolutely did not prepare for.

The point is everywhere.

Teachers say, “Please get to the point.”

Doctors say, “Can you point to where it hurts?”

Parents say, “I have a point to make.”

And somewhere, at every family gathering, there’s someone pointing at the television during a political debate yelling, “THAT’S my point exactly!” even though nobody knows what point they’re talking about.

The word itself is confusing. A point can mean a sharp end, a location, a purpose, a score, or the exact moment where your wife says, “You know what your problem is?” That’s usually the point where your survival instincts should kick in.

Pens have points. Pencils have points. Needles have points, nails have points. 

Then there are pointless things.

Pointless meetings.
Pointless driving directions.
Pointless warning labels.

My favorite warning label was on a kid’s tricycle. “Not intended for highway use.”

Another label said: “Do not wash in hot water.” Which means somewhere, at some point, somebody actually tried it.  Now they have a shirt two sizes too small. You can’t fix stupid.

Humans spend half their lives trying to make a point and the other half missing it completely.

For example, when a man says to his wife, “I’m listening,” what he really means is:
“I heard the same words from you for the last 20 years and I’m hoping for clues later.”

Women, however, never miss the point. They can remember the exact point you made in 1997.

“You said I looked fine in this suit.”

She said, “That was 28 years ago!”  

Time for a suit that fits.

“Exactly.”

That was the point.

Even sports have points. Basketball, football, hockey. Entire million-dollar careers depend on points.  Betting on them is also about points.

“So let me understand this… 20,000 screaming people gather indoors so a giant man can throw a ball through a metal hoop?”

“Yes.”

“And this is important?”

“Very. Two points.”  Depending on where he shoots it from, could be three points.

Then there are pointless arguments, which are the backbone of civilization.

At home, you argue about thermostat settings. 

One person says, “It’s freezing in here.”

The other says, “It’s perfectly comfortable.”

At this point, no thermostat on Earth can fix this situation.

And let us not forget “Point A to Point B.” 

“I’m trying to get from Point A to Point B.”

Nobody ever says where Point A actually is. For me , Point A is the recliner, and Point B is the refrigerator.

Technology now gives us PowerPoint presentations, which are famous for removing the point from everything. Nothing says “this meeting will never end” like 147 slides labeled: “We’re Still Here? At that point, people begin fantasizing about dinner.

So what’s the point of all this?

Maybe there isn’t one.

Maybe life itself is one giant pointless exercise held together by sharp objects, confused conversations, and people yelling, “That’s not the point!”

But if there is a point, perhaps it’s this:

Never trust anything described as “brief remarks,” “a short PowerPoint,” or “Dinner will be ready in 15 minutes.”
They never are.

And always keep your pencil sharp.

Just in case somebody asks you to make a point.