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I don’t care if Dolly Parton removes the “Dixie” from her Branson show. It’s the horses**t that bothers me. #notwhileeating
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All posts by X Teri
Apostrophonies
Apostrophonies: a word to describe those dedicated to the linguistic contortions of logic and denial to justify the continued existence of the apostrophe.
After years of watching the apostrophe debate ebb and flow, I’m voting that we eliminate it. Most of our communication occurs verbally and we’ve survived centuries without needing to wave our arms when an apostrophe is needed.
The grammar brigade can gnash their teeth in protest as they make the tired argument that tradition trumps utility or that our collective language will lose some of its elegance. It’s snobbery to decry nonstandard usage and it bemoans the history of every single change to our language.
Elimination of the apostrophe isn’t a capitulation to the myth of uneducated misuse or modern texting; it’s an overdue necessity. Our language has continuously evolved, and usage determines its structure. We have no arbiter of official usage; “Standard English” is a myth perpetuated by those whose livelihood depends on it, comprising a cabal of dusty minds looking backward.
To make matters worse, many people don’t realize we have a verb to describe the insertion of an apostrophe: apostrophize. Or ‘apostrophise,’ if you’re in the country in which our language was birthed.
One can make subtle arguments regarding those instances when an apostrophe MIGHT reduce vagueness, but if this is your argument, you can’t turn a blind eye toward the other 3 dozen ways in which English contains aberrant structures which inhibit clear understanding.
Contractions, plurals, plural possessives, apostrophes-of-omission, and all other usages have exceptions which don’t further the objective of language or increase its beauty.
Like it or not, we can literally change the language in any manner we see fit. We’ll either rid ourselves of the apostrophe or worsen its usage as people struggle against its ongoing and needless usage in our language.
The apostrophe should get its coat and make a graceful exit before we kick it in the seat of the pants.
Purists might miss it but I’m certain they’ll find another rallying cry of illogic to focus on. Those insisting on tradition always do.
Please remember that I love language but despise the focus on mechanics. Language should not be an obstacle to expression.
P.S. Remember that I’m not advocating for a free-for-all in regards to all rules, so please cook up a better point about what I am NOT saying.
Mimicrying
for he, for him, for she, for her
forsake, forsook, partake, partook
Disvidisia
After reading a friend’s post about the perplexity of inattention for an artist, especially in this golden age of social media, I began to wonder whether a precise word exists for the sensation she was attempting to describe. I volunteered to create a word to encompass the described melancholy or resigned sensation, regardless of which method of expression the artist chooses.
Before going off on a wordy tangent, here’s my paraphrasing of what she was describing:
“…the untethered feeling a creative person gets when they see that an acquaintance shows deep interest in the happenings in some far-flung place or in the life of a distant stranger, acreage they’ll never traverse or people he or she will never meet and whose trajectory may as well be that of an alien star, often regarding some mundane subject, while turning a blind eye toward their expression, one which germinates in their own backyard…”
I think writers and artists might be the most prone to experience this detachment.
It’s ridiculously easy to share what others have created, to choose words and media designed to urge us toward an emotional reaction. Creating anything is an invitation to criticism; honest artists often share themselves.
Prophets are seldom appreciated in their own communities. Authors, painters, and musicians tend to be ignored until they become substantial; proximity stymies allure. “Familiarity breeds contempt” is a cliché with truth. We tend to need an outsider to tell us what we already know or we will reject the truth from those around us.
So many creative minds experience disconnectedness prior to recognition and when it comes, those same people comprising his or her initial disinterested audience clamor for reciprocity. It’s easy to overlook the fact that all those we find valuable once started with small voices, drawing, singing, writing and acting in small places. (And most of the time were labeled as eccentric or untalented.)
The biggest surprises come from the strangest places.
Doors to familiar houses seldom open to new rooms.
Disvidisia
This is a modified version of a post I wrote in September of last year. It struck a chord in many places – and not all were harmonious.
Choose Wisely
The internet is a huge, vast space, much like the world around us.
No matter your pace, you’ll never reach the end of it, explore all of its mysteries or be able to pause sufficiently to breathe it all in.
Your time is precious, as is your attention, energy, and focus.
If you value the seconds stealing past you, you’ll wonder why it is that so many of us fixate on that which does not embellish our lives with wonder, interest, or happiness.
I assume if you take a slice of your finite life and spend it writing something angry or derogatory, it’s unlikely that anything I say will minimize the pain or frustration you’re feeling with either the world or the ideas on display.
There’s insufficient data to help me discover whether you’re having a bad day, chose ill-advised words or truly meant the words or tone used.
Rather than acknowledge it or waste your time or mine, I’ll hide, ignore or delete your interaction and focus my time and self more acutely. I treat any page I manage as my living room – and people interacting in my living room know what the expectations probably are, in part because they know who I am.
Each of us has a fluctuating ability to tolerate craziness, coarseness, discourtesy, and mayhem; what triggers us one day may pass unnoticed the next. I know full well that no one in their right mind wants me in their living room all the time, especially if I forget that the internet is a trillion living rooms, each inhabited by different people and inclinations.
Because the internet is so complex, wondrous and vast, we should treat it like a tv with a trillion channels. Change channels if you’re offended or find yourself focusing on how much you dislike the channel you’re on.
There’s no conspiracy, just a reminder to spend your time on worthwhile interactions – on pages and posts which give you pleasure.
Sometimes I make errors in judgment, as the written word often fails to capture nuance and subtlety. I apologize if I err and misunderstand your intentions.
Life is shorter than you can imagine.
It’s always my hope that if I misspeak, misstep or err that you’ll pause in your condemnation long enough for me to realize my error or make amends. Sometimes though, even good people reach an impasse in which neither appreciates the conundrum of their disagreement.
Let’s both enjoy time in the vast wilderness of the internet.
We don’t all need to play on the monkey bars together but it’s advisable to find fun and peace somewhere on the vast playground of the internet.
There’s sun for us all here, if we choose it.
(Just joking with the last picture…)
A List Of Stuff To Consider
“Nothing was done but much was accomplished.”
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I was so proud of my version of the derp horse, I had to share it here. If you’re not familiar with this, your life is devoid of all depth and meaning.
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Usually accompanied by pointed finger and shouting.
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Like all truly great loves, it started with a bowl of pico de gallo…
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Beans, like one’s wife, always get the last word.
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It wasn’t a drive-in until I got the gas pedal and brake mixed up. Sorry about that. On the other hand, the popcorn at the theater smelled great.
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“The ‘B’ is silent,” she told me, pointing to her name badge, emblazoned with her name: Bee.
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Is there a “Going Out of Business Sign Company” which makes all the “Going Out of Business” signs for all the other closing businesses? If so, how would we know if it were going out of business?
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When my boss called me in to give me a pink slip, I asked him if he could also provide matching slippers and a princess wand.
P.S. I’m not sure that “double fired” is a real thing.
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I thought I had really accomplished something until I read the certificate more closely: Employee For a Month.
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The klutz found his calling when he was chosen for the Spilling Bee.
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The work softball team was really pissed at me. After becoming equipment manager I accidentally ordered W-Shirts instead of Ts.
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Just in time for Valentine’s Day, the next round of layoffs, or for those days when you need a place to eat which walks the fine line between cuisine and packaging supplies.
****…With Candles.
Class – Without The Cost.
After months of researching possible food franchises, I think I’m going to open an ****. I wanted to close one, but they wouldn’t give me that option.
Not just any type of **** though; I want one which exudes class and style, like a pre-owned car salesman who lost his bifocal reading glasses on “Listening-to-the-Customer Training Day,” but who also owns a fedora and thinks ESPN is a news channel.
Need to take your significant other out for an elegant meal in order to lower his or her expectations? Do you know how valuable your customer is to your company but would rather not let him or her know? Wish to tell an employee he or she is “Employee of the Month,” but is still not getting a raise? Harbor unrealized pyromaniacal tendencies but so far have been stymied in expressing them?
****…With Candles. The candles spell c-l-a-s-s.
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Legal Disclaimer: This is satire, although I will begin accepting reservations on Feb. 1st.
P.S. The “****” denotes the censored name of the ‘restaurant.’ My last viral experience with getting the attention of a dubious restaurant chain reminded me that as the likelihood of food-borne illness increases, the sense of humor of the company inversely declines.
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A Little Humor
I was in an unfamiliar office building near Pinnacle in Rogers. One thing about Pinnacle is that it caters to almost every taste and whim, given the amount of money concentrated around its epicenter. It has a reputation for being a great place to shop, eat, and work.
Since I had deviated from my normal early-morning ritual, the scent of fresh coffee from somewhere within the structure sent me on a quest to find the coffee shop or kiosk selling it.
I went down to level one and across the connecting bridge inside. About ten feet away, I noticed a row of coffee bean containers inverted across a horizontal bar. The smell of java was incredibly strong. As I neared it, I thought I heard a small shout but couldn’t discern its origin. I stepped across a stainless steel strip across the floor and almost immediately a woman wearing a leather vest walked up and slapped me across the face. As I recoiled, I heard a snap and then a sharp pain traveled across my rear. I turned to see a riding crop being drawn back for another strike across my backside.
“Hey!” I shouted. “What the hell do you guys think you’re doing?”
Almost immediately, I felt another sharp pain across my rear. “Ouch!”
I ran backward, nearly tripping across the row of modern chairs aligned across the wall. Weirdly enough, each chair seat was adorned with multiple studs on top.
As I did, I noticed the sign across the top of the entrance of the coffee shop:
S C A R B U C K S Coffee and S&M Shop: We’ll Definitely Wake You Up!
This niche marketing is definitely getting out of hand.
A Little Neighborhood Justice
As the man lifted the lid of the trash can, he absentmindedly tossed in a bag of trash. It seemed to fall for several seconds, ending with a cacophonous thud in the bottom of the plastic receptacle.
He looked down the street, noticing which houses were alit with the signs of life, which houses had cars parked in the concrete driveways, and which seemed absent any movement. He knew from experience that often the quietest places contained the most activity, concealed behind doors and curtains. The deepening twilight resonated with an eerie sheen across vaguely reflective surfaces. Nothing stirred and it seemed as if the nothingness and quiet might have lengthened into an eternity of twilight.
He noted the absence of filtered whimpers and screams. The quiet was disconcerting and unnatural. It occurred to him that so many things seemed to be more fully defined by noticing those things which seemed to be missing. It would take some time for him to remember what a normal neighborhood was supposed to sound like.
So many nights he had passively noted the shouts, the cries, and the fractured silences from next door. Sealing his doors and windows only diminished their volume, yet somehow amplified their significance. It was an effort to distract himself from the evidence of violence – until this morning when an unseen valve mitigating his own violent thoughts opened completely.
Quiet now seemed like a musical cadence missing a beat of syncopation. It made him uneasy, like when he entered a dark and unfamiliar room, his hand vainly seeking the contour of a wall switch. He was unsure as to the velocity with which slumber might greet him in these circumstances.
After a few moments, he heard a door creak open. As he turned to the right, he saw a narrow beam of light cast its gaze upon the suburban sidewalk leading to the neighbor’s front door. A second later, a subdued housewife ambled out, shutting the door behind her. The man could hear the woman grunt with her efforts, undoubtedly a residual effect from so many nights of abuse from her husband. The man now knew that in time the housewife would regain much of her agility and zeal for life. An ember signifying a lit cigarette danced lazily in the air as she moved. She walked across the expanse of her driveway, lifting the lid of her trash receptacle. As she lifted the black bag to drop it inside, a pale arm fell across the outer rim, fingers pointed toward the ground in mock accusation.
She casually lifted the arm, dropping it without much consideration back into the trash, placing her new bag on top of whatever the lifeless arm might be attached to.
The man smiled in the dark, knowing the housewife did the same, a shared intimate secret born inside a few bloody seconds two hours ago.
After so many nights of questioning and endless tears and abrasions, they both had reached the same mortal conclusion, one punctuated by a single shot reverberating inside a cramped living room. Good neighbors help one another and do what must be done.
As the abuser fell to the floor, eyes wide in dead surprise, both participants locked eyes and deeply sighed, both relieved to be past the moment of action. They silently and mutually agreed that the abuser’s fate was predestined and unworthy of comment.
While the body lay cooling on the living room floor, they attentively listened with heads tilted for a minute, and then without conversation lifted the dead husband and carried him outside, unceremoniously tossing him inside the trash container. Just as no one had come to help during the preceding weeks, months, or years of fists and screams, no one had come to investigate the exclamatory ring of a solitary gunshot.
Now, two hours later, the ticks and clicks of a typical night were all that greeted them as they both went back inside their respective houses.
Sleep would come easily to them both.
The neighborhood settled back into its nocturnal routine of normalcy, ignoring the momentary lapse of its civilized veneer.
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YesOrNo.com
Note: this is an older post. Seeing Netflix and a few other sites adopt an idea I’ve had forever makes me smile – as I recommended exactly this course of action several years ago in this blog post.
I’m going to start a website called “YesOrNo.” It will cover websites, restaurants, vehicles, tourists spots, movies, music and anything under the sun. It will be a testament to minimalism and focus in a world of too many options. If you are neutral to the website, movie, or restaurant, you don’t vote. No fence-sitting is allowed.
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Instead of being weighed down by too many details, there are only going to be 2 options: “yes” or “no.” No comments. No categories to obfuscate the response. No Yelp-like lawsuits alleging vote-fixing or reviews. Studies have shown that too many options reduces our happiness and satisfaction.
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Users will need to learn to be discerning with their votes. There will be neutral option. Either you vote or you don’t – but you’re going to need to decide between “yes” or “no.”
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There will be technical issues to address governing how to identify participants and/or lessen abuse of voting. That’s true of any website or business idea. Clever, motivated people combined with technology should eliminate all the major hurdles.
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With a social element, users can choose to add “trusted voters” to their logins so that they can refine their trusted opinions over time. This will allow you to ask the website to recommend a new place or experience to you, based on input from you and others who are similarly minded. In my scenario, however, the data will be limited to tallying without superfluous detail.
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Unlike Angie’s List, users won’t be expected to pay – as such services exclude much of the population. It does tend to cause an uptick in the “crazies” noticing your website, but again, technology can overcome most of the stupidity that will ensue.
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It’s so strange to see Tinder doing well. I’ve joked about yesorno.com for a long time, especially after an old-school website called “checkthegrid” died. On my old blog I had this idea designed, with screenshots and graphs. Like most people, though, my enthusiasm usually sputters at the implementation of an idea.
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At it’s heart, the website would be simple categories, with “green” indicating “yes,” and “red” equating to “no.”
Laugh Tracks Are the Toenails In My Coleslaw
Laugh tracks on television comedies are the worst -unless you include toenail-infused coleslaw to the list of contenders for worst.
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 