J.D. Salinger
'Tis the season. Truly it is upon us. And that means they are upon us...
I'm looking for an opening here; something that will gently ease my readers into the material for today's offering but I'm finding it difficult to 'ease' into this. Why? Well, to illustrate the problem I'm having, try going to a grocery store, a department store, box store, any store, anywhere for that matter. Or just try going out, getting in your car and driving. If, god help you, you are like me and have already reached your own particular saturation point (again), stay home. Try turning on your TV set, answering your phone, or getting online. You will then realize (if you haven't already) why I'm in a quandry as to how to gracefully, or tactfully, approach this.
But then again, why should I? Hey, I'm pretty sure I'm preaching to the choir here anyway, so why do I need to sugarcoat what's on my mind? There's no way, no need, to tastefully, or 'eloquently' throw down the gauntlet for this. Why should I? The people I aim this at are too mindless to understand that it's about them I'm writing, if indeed they can read but oh, of course they can otherwise NASCAR magazine wouldn't be so popular but I'm thinking it's all scratch-and-sniff pictures (for that realistic you are there experience).
3 words. Repeat after me, class. And salute the rebel flag (or the stars and stripes, doesn't matter) while you speak. Ready? Putrid Stinking Masses (enunciate please). Also affectionately referred to by some of my more radical friends as The RH, or, Repugnant Horde. Not to be mistaken for the Mongol Hordes; they were the epitome of etiquette, the dilettantes of discretion, compared to this mob. The PSM, or RH, are everywhere. There is no escape. They have, and continue, to insinuate, infiltrate, and integrate. Without pause. Without concern for color, race, religion, celebrity, or sanity. They have no other mission other than to live their mucked-up little lives, and spawn future hordes, right in our faces! But you know what the real beauty of all this is? They have absolutely, without a doubt, no clue that there are people out here who are not like them!! Whoops. I guess I should retract that. I forgot about the nazi-zealots who have decided that anyone not sharing their mindsets be imprisoned, gassed, and/or barred from shopping at Wal-Mart (where they can leave their carts out in the middle of any aisle indefinitely) for life.
I'm rolling now. Turn on your TV. Watch the local news. Know why it's filled with stories about the PSMs and their pathetic little existences? Because they run the damn station now, that's why. Hell, they run the whole network! And none of 'em can spell!! Look at the headers! Jeezus! Tired of that? Take a break. Go hop in your car and drive down the street, any street, where you see those fancy little electronic billboards out in front of businesses to highlight their wares. I don't know about you, but it would be embarrassing to advertise the fact that I couldn't spell. But, in the grand order of 'how it is really', when I think about it, it doesn't matter because no one reading those billboards can spell either. Even if they could, they're already well into the stage of PSMism whereby they could give a rat's butt, or, as I like to call it, ass.
But here's the deal. And this is hilarious (I mean serious, it's just that the visual concept of it all makes me delirious). The RSMs are wired at birth to go out, find a mate (or whoever they can bump into) and re-populate the earth. At your expense! This is their directive. They have no other purpose here. They are not here to actively make our lives miserable; that's simply a by-product of their daily routine as they are way too involved in trying to find ways to keep their youngster's mouths full of garbage so they can grow up and continue the process.
Warning. Be careful out there. You may at some point seek refuge, driven half-crazy from all this madness. Know this; the RHs can look okay. They can dress and walk, and drive nice cars (just like the one that's been tailgating you for the past hour). Sometimes they even speak in complete sentences.
So... there is nowhere to go. No space. No sanctuary. THEY have either laid claim to, or are in the process of usurping, almost every last liberty we currently have. Almost... but there is one thing they can never take, never have. They can only dream, except that's silly because when they do dream it's about snowmobiles and ATVs and pick-up trucks and corn dogs and guns and wrestling and...
2 comments:
...and using the word "dialogue" as a verb
...or unapologetically using their or there while all the time meaning they're
...or speaking about "an absorbent amount of time" when they meant an "exhorbitant" amount of time
...using the phrase "for everyone's edification" when they really meant "clarification"
And yes, I also realize that the English language has been being bastardized since the dawn of it's creation, which has created our current language, as differentiated from Olde English, and will allow it to grow into the future...while leaving me feeling like the Puritanical librarian enforcing antiquated grammatical and punctuational rules that seem no longer relevant to the latest generation of Millenials...
...this is why I blog. I no longer have to apologize for good grammar, ten-point words, and speaking my mind. Thank you for speaking yours, and using established grammar. Amen, I'll continue to attend linguistic church here.
While you bring to the table several excellent examples, it needs to be pointed out that you, and your writings, are way the hell beyond any reproach. I could say that in more than one case, you have proven (not that you needed to) you have a very well-developed command of usage and spelling. So, if you thought your toes were stepped on, I apologize.... but just to you.
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