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Dear Schmeat -Let me make this brief, for fear that if I become overly wordy I'll make some irreparable spelling errors that Blogspot's spellcheck won't catch, thus saddling me with a sense of shame that I try to reserve for those rare times when I misspeak in public, and leaving my otherwise pithy, brilliant blogs riddled with more errors than were otherwise intended.It seems to me that the spellcheck on here is not completely accurate, and I am beginning to have a sneaking suspicion that there are only three plausible reasons why a word misspelled in my blog would go unencumbered with an undulating red line.- The spellchecker is making a conscious effort make me look like a fool in front of the potential millions of readers (or the actual two) by leaving my errors unattended or..
- The spellchecker, itself, has such a poor grasp of prose that it cannot even manage even the most elementary guess at the spelling of some words I find at Thesaurus.com
...And don't get me started on grammar....this thing doesn't seem to have any problem with my complete and utter disregard for the rules governing comma use, nor does it seem to mind my habit of turning proper nouns to verbs any part of speech into an adjective. The reason matters not. What is important is that I am onto your scheme spellcheck, and let me forewarn you. Only one man has the power to completely humiliate me in an all-too-public arena like the World Wide Web, and that man is me. (The definition of man being used here is a loose interpretation, roughly akin to "adolescent over the age of 18")
Dear Schmeat - As you know, I consider most human relationships to be an unfortunate side effect of being alive, and, sadly, since I don't intend to stop living, I am unable to unsaddle myself of the accompanying relationships. This being the case, I think it is important that I get something off my chest about relationships, in hopes that, if reparations can be made, it might ease the burden that human interaction has on me, and other, self-styled misanthropes like me.
You see, Schmeat, it makes me feel bad that other people hate themselves so much that they choose to hide the person they are from everyone they meet. Why is it that people feel the need to disguise who they are from newly acquired pieces to their FriendChart collection?
I don't like to feel bad Schmeat, nor do I like to lie about my true nature, the attractive qualities of which are, admittedly difficult to pinpoint. It pains me deeply, for, like the Steinbeck character Doc, from the lighthearted novel Cannery Row, I prize Honesty above all else (when I am in the process of discussing honesty, mostly when it pertains to others, or my better qualities)
I think it is reproachful that, as human beings, unique, and beautiful (to one degree or another) we should feel it necessary to put on airs, to cloak our true selves in the tattered shroud of pretense, for fear that we might offend the delicate sensibilities of some unfamiliar onlooker with the sheer audacity of our person.
It should be as the noted American thinker,Ralph Waldo Emerson put it. You should "...speak your latent conviction, and it shall be the universal sense..." for who could find fault in one's bold proclamation of self. Only admiration could follow an admition to being a proud individual, unafraid to show the world their truth, in all its naked arrogance.
That is, unless, like me, you are considered by most to be a complete, and total asshole. Then people tend to be less admiring, than they are completely put off. But, what can I say Schmeat? That's who I am. I don't want to have to candy coat myself.
I have worked tirelessly to contrive such an obviously pretentious, euphuistic, overambitious concealment for the markedly crippling insecurities I've amassed from years of critical commentary, both external and in. Its like asking Michelangelo to put the Mona Lisa in the closet when he has company over.
All I'm saying, Schmeat, is that if someone wants to be openly caustic, and overly familiar with people he's only just met, he should be revered, not reviled. It takes a lot of courage in this pussified, overly affable society of ours to like yourself enough to impose your personality on a crowd of total strangers.
Its a personal choice that each one of us has to make; do we compromise ourselves, and all that we are by spinelessly abandoning our unique singularity in favor of a more urbane, and palatable banality, or do we embrace our uncouth, incompatibility with those around us?
Some things I know that might not have been apparent whilst reading this blog:
- Ralph Waldo Emerson did, admittedly, take an advisory role on Native American extermination, which is unfortunate, for his legacy, my reverence toward his (non-genocidal)philosophies...and, of course, Native Americans, so quoting him is pretty dubious
- Of Course, Michelangelo would probably gladly put the Mona Lisa in the closet, since he didn't actually paint it. Although, he'd have some trouble fitting it in there with himself and all his "artist" buddies...know what I mean?
- I mean he was a homosexual, but couldn't be open about it because of the amount of work he was getting from the Catholic church...catch my drift?
- My drift is that the Church wasn't always as tolerant toward homosexuals as it is today...and yes I mean tolerant in as literal a sense as possible.
I really DO wish he had kept his unique singularity to himself when it came time to talk about ethnic cleansing
