18 July 2020
1712 hrs
Well, Patient Reader, here we are once again
I was avoiding it, heeding the voice in the back of my mind, telling me to start blogging again. Blog about the world in 2020, a year half over, half finished, half in the hole and half out, half full and correspondingly, half empty. The Democrat says, 'The glass is half-empty," whereas the Replorable says, "Who the fuck took half my water?"
Before I push my mind and words further, let's first understand that this blog follows no rules but the ones I myself ratify and are subject to change on the mercurial capriciousness of my whims. Some are here, but this list is by no means exhaustive:
- I use my words as both weapons and balms to illustrate the images in my brain, faulty or not. As I suffer from Bipolar Disorder, who knows what the fuck will happen? And I say "fuck" a lot, so . . .
I suppose I must leave that opinion up to you, which, as my Patient Reader, I do with the intellectual vanity of William of Baskerville, and to the measure of my own chagrin.
- These words I fashion from plowshares to swords and back, from Greek fire to the honey bee salve of metaphorical music to soothe that savage breast, all of them originating from a brain unchanged, however small and limited, for 300,000 years, and all without the use of a thesaurus.
That's right. I don't believe in the ill-gotten vocabulary exploited by the lexicon often called the cousin to the dictionary. I'm not the high schooler assigned a book report and who uses the thesaurus to amplify and aggravate said report and my teacher. Nope, that ain't me. Of course I joke about the dictionary's cousin, yet I am serious about availing myself of the tools of the lexicon of authors, which I don't claim to be . . . I'm just a failed writer turned blogger who vents and spouts and squirts pro re nata. I will, however, reference other sources: knowledge from my history books gathering dust in a stack somewhere. I will, I am sure, frequently The Urban Dictionary, which- as if you didn't know, is exactly what its name says it is.
For those ten or eleven of you who are unaware of this plethora of 1's and 0's, this branch of binary brainery, binomial bilateralismo belonging, bound boldly, blindly, blindingly bright, bathing, basking . . .? Ready to spring forth from screens. My words, to be honest, to describe the flood of intellectual Gummy Bears therein, and I encourage you to visit The UD and to donate generously.
I am a huge fan of The Palmer Report and Strongly recommend that good people subscribe to read it, sign up to donate to it, and be glad that we have the first amendment in the sad and sometimes archaic and arcane Constitution's Bill of Rights. It's good fortune to know that, but for a simple change of words I'll get back to that.*
Additionally, my posts will piss someone off. All of you some of the time, some of you all of the time, and all of you, well, ACTUALLY i may piss all of you off all of the time. To those who are pissed, please leave a comment addressing your concerns, contrasts, comparisons . . . Or you can just get the fuck out, too. You know where the door is.
I am a political junkie, super-liberal progressive socialist swine and DAMN proud of it. I grew up in a conservative house in a conservative neighborhood in a conservative city in a conservative state, so believe me when I tell you oh my,yes, Patient Reader, I do know the Devil I know.
I am also antireligion. Not necessarily just antiXian, though definitely that, but I am a firm believer that it is religion that has fucked our species ever since we troglodytes crawled out of our caves and blamed lightning on some capricious man (it's always a man, ain't it?) in the sky who may or may not grant wishes.
I will blaspheme. I will be sacrilegious. I will even insult you Christ-lickers and not even feel bad about it. Get over it. Please? Either that, or forgive me.
- In addition to NOT availing the Brainlessness end to the cranium from a necessity I will tell you right now that MISSPELLINGS and [sic]s Drain of the bolg, the uncommon usage of the style of my very own neologisms/neojonisms. So, to sum up, all typos, the [sic]s that may run like packs of wolves on their quarry. Neologism/jonism is just the way of the world. I live in this world of invented words. I suggest you Adapt or Perish. They sometimes sneak into the marrow of the funny bone. But that WOOT of the coochie coochie coo? That's up to you and not to me. Hee hee hee.
- I've been accused of being a sufferer of Tall Poppy Syndrome. Fuck you, assholes. If you were as cool as me you wouldn't feel as if I cut you down. Don't know what to tell you. Get some confidence.
- This blog will very often include multiple redundant and repetitive modifiers, as I find them to be very worthwhile to use. Hey, if the POTUS can do it, why can't I just walk up to them and grab 'em by the dangling participles?
Anyhoo. I hope there will be things I say that you will like, or maybe even find profound. I do believe I'll say plenty of things with which you will agree, judging from the likes and retweets I get on my Twitter account, the eponymous LogicalHeathen @logicalheathen .
I also pronounce "agoraphobia" as it is said to do below: (notice the schwa ‘e’ and the stress on the 4th syllable.) It's NOT pronounced "uh GORA foe bee yuh" like so many of you say, thinking you're correcting me. You're not. You're simply perpetuating stupidity. It's pronounced thusly;
agoraphobia
[ˌaɡ(ə)rəˈfəʊbɪə]
So now that the baseline has been established I will leave you be, until the next post that will find us getting down into the grittiest of nitties.
Please check back periodically and see what's new and what's not. And whatever else. I look forward to addressing you once again, Patient Reader, and don't be a stranger, just be strange.
Au revoir, meines freundes.
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