Author: The Fat Lady Sings

Just what is the equivalence of a pat on the head complete with lollipop?  Is it the...

I came across this wonderful little document some time back, and have been saving it for the...

This marvelous little soufflé was sent to me by my friend Elaine.  Elaine has always been a veritable fountain of the odd and obscure.  Whatever she sends, however, is always gold-stamp guaranteed to produce a smile.  As I live in a confederate state, she thought I might find it amusing.  I did.  So will you.

I consider language to be the richest gift we as humans enjoy.  It goes way beyond simple communication.  Words themselves possess a certain power – they can transform the emotional landscape – create, destroy, caress – or pound someone senseless with the accumulated muscle of a thousand fists.  We treat words carelessly in American society.  Words and their applications are often considered trite and disposable, less human necessity and more French fry. The richness – the pure sensual pleasure that can derive from language craft has been demoted – kicked to the curb along with music as an unnecessary art – not essential to the continuation and promulgation of narrowly defined and increasingly jingoistic American standards and ideals.

Is it that we no longer read for pleasure anymore?