Dear Reader:
You have been so patient. So forgiving. Of course you feel like it’s been a long year. Jeez, every day is one maddening thing after another, and we’re all exhausted.
Contrary to our dearest hopes, promises and expectations back on Opening Day in August, The WORD has been practically no help to anyone in making sense of the world in this Drumpfocene Era. Sorry about that.
188 WORDs later — from Carl Hiaasen to Chris Hedges, John Cheever to Kurt Vonnegut, from Jack Shafer to Susan Sontag and Toni Morrison to Sophia McClennen — we have to acknowledge that nothing really helped.
Just yesterday, The WORD quoted Nick Kristof, who made the case for thinking, hearing, reading about something — anything — other than what he charmingly called “T***p Porn” (I really can’t even say his name anymore).
That made a lot of sense, so The WORD has decided to take Kristof’s advice and go think about something else for a while. Last night, in the darkling hours as Friday began, while fishing optimists prepared to celebrate the opening of salmon season, the nice men in the white coats pulled the padded truck into the driveway. As usual, he was tired, and didn’t resist.
By now, wearing only a tassled Argyle strait jacket and weary smile of relief, The WORD is aboard the ferry, crossing the choppy waters to St. Mumbles Home for the Terminally Verbose, where his quiet place, Scrabble team and hammock await.
He said to tell you he’s sorry, but he did his best. It’s been a brutal year. “You’re too marvelous,” he said, “I don’t have any words.”
He hopes to find some new ones while the world takes a breather. If only that asshat would take the summer off as well.
Barring some global cataclysm, The WORD will be back in late August for Season 24, fresh and aglow with optimism. In the meantime, he leaves us with this inspirational number. Click on it.
Have a good summer, all.
You have been so patient. So forgiving. Of course you feel like it’s been a long year. Jeez, every day is one maddening thing after another, and we’re all exhausted.
188 WORDs later — from Carl Hiaasen to Chris Hedges, John Cheever to Kurt Vonnegut, from Jack Shafer to Susan Sontag and Toni Morrison to Sophia McClennen — we have to acknowledge that nothing really helped.
Just yesterday, The WORD quoted Nick Kristof, who made the case for thinking, hearing, reading about something — anything — other than what he charmingly called “T***p Porn” (I really can’t even say his name anymore).
By now, wearing only a tassled Argyle strait jacket and weary smile of relief, The WORD is aboard the ferry, crossing the choppy waters to St. Mumbles Home for the Terminally Verbose, where his quiet place, Scrabble team and hammock await.
He said to tell you he’s sorry, but he did his best. It’s been a brutal year. “You’re too marvelous,” he said, “I don’t have any words.”
He hopes to find some new ones while the world takes a breather. If only that asshat would take the summer off as well.
Barring some global cataclysm, The WORD will be back in late August for Season 24, fresh and aglow with optimism. In the meantime, he leaves us with this inspirational number. Click on it.
Have a good summer, all.
Ted,
The WORDmeister
The WORDmeister
Ted Pease, Professor of Interesting Stuff, Trinidad, California. (Be)Friend The WORD
“I
don’t think writers are sacred, but words are. They deserve respect. If
you get the right ones, in the right order, you can nudge the world a
little.” —Tom Stoppard
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