Literary Cruelty

It always amazes me when I read a newspaper column or magazine article or editorial piece in a newspaper or magazine.

Not only that, but most times I’m in total non-shock when said newspaper column or magazine article or editorial piece in a newspaper or magazine seems to say nothing at all.

You know what I mean – the writer goes on and on and on and on about some absurd or obscure piece of something or other, and by the time the list of words have ended, you really have no sense of what in the world the writer who started talking about some absurd or obscure piece of something or other was even trying to say anymore.

What I am trying to say is, too often, I find myself confused and angry because the writer seems to have lost all sense of ever even having had a train of thought and has taken me, the reader, down some winding, twisting road into some level of hell I am sure hasn’t even been discovered by the Jesuit priest whose lot in life it is to discover undiscovered layers of hell at the end of winding and twisting roads. I feel bad for this priest, and he would be well advised to avoid reading these things, because if I had to guess, I’m sure it goes against everything the Jesuits teach in the Discovering Undiscovered Layers of Hell course at the Jesuit University of Undiscovered Layers of Hell.

I feel totally abused and mistreated after spending valuable minutes suffering the indignity of not knowing what I was trying to read about. This leads to a seemingly infinite redundancy cycle where I find myself rereading these pointless articles to find some logical thought process, or at least some sign that one even ever existed. To top it off, by the time I’ve finished reading something with no obvious point, I have to reread it to try and figure out where I lost my sense of direction. This, in turn, creates an infinite cycle of redundancy that, if left unchecked, becomes rather redundant.

I find myself rereading these pointless articles to find some logical thought process, or at least some sign that one even ever existed… I never seem to find one, and like a bad movie, I can’t resist sitting through the horror and the pain just to see how it all ends.

It’s a downward spiral of literary cruelty.

You would think writers of newspaper columns or magazine articles or editorial pieces in newspapers or magazines that seem to say nothing at all would have had some sort of professional training in writing coherently. However, given the pointless slop “professionals” churn out on a daily basis, one has to wonder.

I’m left questioning of the mental stability of someone who writes something with no point. It must make sense to them (the writer). And if it makes sense to them but nobody else, something must be wrong with them. In fact, after spending time reading and rereading such pointless drivel, I think they have caused something to go wrong with me.

I churn out slop on a regular basis, but that is what I do. I never really have anything interesting to say, and I really don’t care if anyone understands the uninteresting things I end up saying. I do this because I haven’t devised a way to properly address the situation.

When I write something, it’s usually not only redundant, but rarely has a point, never did have a point, and never will have a point. That is the point. I guess it’s pointless to even try to explain it. Never mind…

These “professionals” also churn out slop for no apparent reason at all, but they’re pretty pretentious about it – what with their paychecks and cute blue twitter checkmarks and all. I really don’t care for them stepping on my slop churning though, and it angers me to see more qualified individuals doing the work reserved for those of us who remain unprofessional in our chosen non-profession.

But the pretentious mental state of writers of nothing is beside the point. Writing something about nothing is not an easy thing to do, and I applaud these blue checkmark owners for this accomplishment. Think about it. In order for that gibberish to see print, the letters have to form words, the words have to form sentences, the sentences have to form paragraphs (apparently not coherent paragraphs), and the paragraphs need to have a beginning and an end. To go through all this and still say nothing, in my mind, is true talent. Paragraph after paragraph about nothing is a feat not to be overlooked. Anybody can write reams and reams about something, but to do so with no point, logic, or coherence, is simply an amazing display of raw, unadulterated, talent.

It truly is a most astounding accomplishment. However beautiful the prose. However fluent the style. Nothing has been said.

As an aside, politicians are also pretty good at this. They can’t wait to start wasting your time during long and monotonous speeches that say nothing at all. Politicians have a knack for talking and talking about nothing in particular, spouting on and on with no real point, and convincing you that what they have said should worry the holy bejesus out of you.

For instance, years ago Donald Rumsfeld warned me of “Known Knowns, Known Unknowns, Unknown Knowns, and Unknown Unknowns”. Now I don’t know what the heck that means, but it scares the crap right out of me. I am almost positive he really didn’t say anything, but what if he did say something? He sure had me convinced that what I know I don’t know can get me! Or am I convinced that what I don’t know I know will get me? Who knows?

You know what I mean?

 

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