Now, as we commemorate our co-opting the land and fortunes of innocent indigenous people, our thoughts naturally turn to Ludwig Wittgenstein (1889-1951) the Austrian-English philosopher who said,
“The limits of my language mark the limits of my world.”
Not where your head is going, you say?
Consider this. As we bask in the post-election glow, we recall that a grammatically-impaired person came withing a 72-year-old heartbeat of becoming the most powerful woman on Earth. Out of such ignorance is savagely born.
Dude.
I will spare you my usual tirade about the dumbing of America, since I assume you, the above-average blog reader are vigorously battling any attempt to dumb you down. ‘Tis you I am thankful for.
No time to be preaching to choir–only to say that the future of the Republic may be in your hands as you battle the hordes of linguistic barbarians who insist on bending, folding, spindling and mutilating the English language. Be of good cheer, for these aforementioned hordes are limiting themselves to a hunched-over dirt-contemplating view of our wonderful world. Let them rant. They have suffered enough already.
But it’s the higher road for you, my friends. (Imagine these words accompanied by awkward, jabbing arm gestures and a maniacal smile.)
Your job is to widen and enlighten the world. Write great stuff and share it with is. That task begins with broadening your own literary horizons. Read some uncomfortable, off-the-wall stuff today, maybe even a little Wittgenstein, though I admit that would be tough sledding. Try Charles Bukowski, William Burroughs, Alan Watts or Anne Carson. Discover how deliciously distended our language can be. My holiday wish for you: May you write wild and free and discover what you think about things. And may none of your pages be white.
That would be a satisfying propriety. And, dude, I’d be, like, so down with that.
Now, off the net: WRITE AT ABSOLUTE TOP SPEED.
John

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