The Filler From Where I Sit
It's said that the language of the Eskimo contains over forty words that mean "snow," because it is important to them. Teens have only one word that means "hate" ["hate"- ed.] because to us it is more important to be understood when communicating with others. Example: "I hate you, Eskimo man." See? Nice.
Like a dog using its nose, teens use their hate as a way of interacting with an odd and confusing world that treats us like animals, and that's a pretty sweet deal. Only one thing to do ["hate" - ed.], and all day in which to do it. Sigh. You'd think we would be good at it by now.
Complaints continue to pour in about the unreadibility of this rag. Not spelling things all that well, lack of grammar, colons and commas that just sort of ... materialize in the text, then just as mysteriously disappear. And turns out some of the writing is wrong. Example: that exposé of the 1972 Thomas Eagleton Affair we ran two weeks ago. Pointing out how it was a heterosexual affair, so no wonder. And the woman: what did she look like? Was she nice? And so on. And a lot of people noticed that the piece was not carefully researched and in fact was written using facts that were born in the fires of a young person's fancies. You'd think that maybe the writer of such an article would feel a bit embarrassed, but no, I certainly do not feel embarrassed, that's an odd thing to suggest, I blame others.
Alright ... I am not sure I wrote that piece, I could not read it and I'm not sure what it was about.
And so it was that you, dear readers, sent me a swollen buttload of fucking hate mail about my shitty writing. Uhh .. words using spellings that are not their own, grammar just sort of laying there doing nothing, some pretty bad incidents with commas and their kind ... stains, what looked like drool, you should see it, the cards you sent are frankly unreadable. Wow. I mean ... I like being a role model to my fans, I just wish they didn't hate me. Hate hurts. Just ask Eskimo man.
Alright ... fact is I can't tell if it's hate mail. You can do better, people.
You know, we put a lot of care into our hateful opinion pieces. Our way of giving back to the community. And a couple of months ago we thought that if we spent less time writing them, we'd have extra time to put even more care in. Think about it: modern software can do all your design and graphic work for you if you lack the time, talent or interest. This entire paper, for example, was designed and laid out in twenty minutes Sunday evening by Carlos, who has no hands. So why not have software do the writing part of the paper, too? According to my careful research (see above -- ed.) of the Constitution, it seemed that we very much had a Constitutional right to such software.
And thus began our Microsoft letter-writing campaign. With clarity and grace -- using a small number of simple words (see above -- ed.) -- we communicated with the Redmond software giant about our demands and threatened to WTO riot them if we did not receive the software that would write our important editorials and think-pieces. And we also did not have the software that would properly spell and punctuate their important address, and all of our brave little letters were sent out with no hope of ever finding a home, destined to wander the earth forever, all because of Microsoft.
Another way in which society oppresses others. Wahoo! We did an exposé on that, including photos of the riot -- including chanting, beverages and arrests -- we threw here in our offices. I had the honor of writing that article, and I just KNOW that when Bill Gates read it he noticed how bad the writing was and I hate him for that.
Ooh! There's that word again ... nice. Mr. Gates? I hate you a little less.
Anyway, that project failed somewhat, so we looked to other explanations. And it occurred to me, as editor of this vibrant journal, that there is a practical aspect to writing badly intentionally, since we cannot help it. For example, there's our perfectly proper rejection of the things that "society" deems "correct": correct grammar, etc. After all, Hitler was correct, in his day. And look what happened.
Also, The Whimper does not allow dictionaries on the premises. Dictionaries are full of patriarchal balderdash (sp??).
But it's more than that. I am reminded of a puzzler my Dad once posed to me. Which teens are more irritating: today's teens, or his generation's gross hippy teens of the 60's? And I said: today's teens, of course. It's like athletics. You take the best of what came before, and improve upon it. And by saying something irritating like that, I only proved my point. And I should know. I am 33 years old and have been doing this over half my life.
So there you have it, friends. The answer to the maddening riddle: how can we write a weekly tabloid that expresses all the vitality, suffering and anger of today's teens, when we cannot write?
Answer: that is how.
And so, dear readers, when you get to the end of this article, I'd like you to read it again ... go ahead, you'll see why. You're forging ahead, trying to make sense of it, eyes straining, your face hurts from frowning, you find it hard to concentrate, a dull ache moving up the back of your neck ... know what that feeling is?
That is the feeling of you being hated by me.
Heh-heh. I am good at what I do.
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