Vernon T. Bludgeon

The blog is bogged down. Maybe more writers could be invited to blog?
Nobody knows what happens to us when we die. Nobody has died and come back to tell us about it. The Jesus story is myth and/or completely unprovable. For me the only reason I can see for religion is the fear of death. My question is: If we knew for sure what death is like and what happens, would religion still exist?
Blog on and yes,I can think of other reasons for religion but that is not what I am asking. Anyone out there have a “near death” experience?

I wonder if the general lack of knowledge, culture and familiarity with the fine points of English could be partially attributable to the fact that, after all, we are still one of the nations with the largest middle class, speaking in socio-economic terms. In other countries that still retain clear divisions between the upper and lower classes marked by huge disparities in resources of all types, no one expects the lowly masses to know anything. Despite recent ecomomic hard times, the USA still offers the best shot at improving one’s financial circumstances. Education and culture don’t necessarily track that improvement, though. Of course, this doesn’t explain moronic college students, but as they say, “Garbage in, garbage out.”

Let’s continue discussing some of the questions raised by my right honourable friend dark-eye in his last post.
I take it we agree, then, that there’s no point in being nasty to the checkout slave for using the harmless phaticism “have a good one.” I think it’s likewise anal-prescriptivist, and a waste of energy, to fulminate over people saying “where’s it at.” English varies by region and social class; different variations obey different systems of rules; so what?
It isn’t so much annoying that people use clichés and buzzwords as it is distressing that they can’t do any better. Too many Americans can’t express themselves worth a shit or tell you in what century the Civil War took place. Why?
I think that’s a complex question with no definitive answer, just competing theories. Part of the cause must be that fools sit around staring at the veg box for too many hours of their lives — that’ll make you stupid, for sure. Part of it is undoubtedly due to failures in the public education system, which in turn are attributable in large measure to severe underfunding and our policymakers’ fucked up spending priorities. The way stuff like U.S. history is typically taught in school gives students little reason to remember it — a series of disconnected factoids, trivia. Who cares? Chomsky called it right when he said (don’t ask me exactly where) that school is a system of enforced ignorance. That’s no mere eccentricity — it’s literally true in too many cases.
For people like dark-eye and me it is nonetheless appalling how ignorant people are. We’re Old School. The fact that your history teacher sucked is no excuse. The fact that whenever you please, you could go onto the Web and find out when the Civil War was is no excuse. There are some things that people should know Just Because.

The comedians over at the New York Times must bust a gut when they are composing those headlines. Today’s edition has this belly-buster:

Bush to Establish Panel to Examine U.S. Intelligence

As Homer Simpson said of one of the films screened at the Springfield Film Festival: It works on so many levels!

Language rant: I agree professor, in the end we are all just a bag of rotting flesh. However, if someone calls me an elitist or intellectual snob, I thank them. In case you haven’t noticed America is rapidly declining in culture, morality and intellect. Remember: you read it here first! The US ranks 49th in literacy of the 158 members of the UN. A rough estimate is that 60% of American adults have never (yes never) read a book of any kind and only 6% reads as much as one book a year – book can be anything – romance novel, self help, etc. Jay Leno asked questions, a series of eight actually, to students after a college graduation ceremony (college gratefully un-named). One of the questions was “How many moons does the earth have?” One woman said that she had taken an astronomy course a couple of years back but couldn’t remember the answer. “What was the Gettysburg Address”? one student: an address to Getty; another: I don’t know the exact address. I find this all unbelievable. 6% of adults went to the theater at least once so far; 3% to the opera (no surprise there). It goes on and on. There is a terrific book by Morris Berman titled “The Twilight of American Culture” some of this information was mined (stolen! plagiarised) from that work. I highly recommend the book.
So, our language reflects some of our descent into idiocy. “Have a good one”. Overused by everyone. I think that people could be a little more creative if they tried – “hope your wife has the clap and you have a pleasant evening”. I grew up in the south and “Y’all come back now, heah?” was heard alot and after the 50th time became tiring, too. In certain parts of the country you will “where’s it at?”. Charming but it ain’t not good speechefying.
It just isn’t his “for-tay”. The word is forte – italian – loud to musicians. It just isn’t his loud? Excuse me? It should be “fort” : thanks goes to George Carlin for that observation. Language reflects our thought processes; grows from our intellectual search; is the one thing that seperates us from the rest of the creatures on earth. Now lets not trot out the old whale song argument. If language becomes simplified to accomodate the uneducated, the marginally illiterate then we are in deep trouble.
Oh my happy bloggers, just wait until I get to religion. Now there is where the dumbed down really live. The press has come forth with numerous opinion columns about the christians, jews and islam all having the same god. “We are all the sons of Abraham” Oh really? Just him? Sarah wasn’t involved? And lets not forget Hagar while we are at it.

I can go almost indefinitely without cocaine. I can go for little more than 24 hours without coffee.
I can get up in the morning and consider leaving the house for work without first doing a blast of cocaine. I can’t bear the thought without a blast of espresso.
I can concentrate on my work without my brain interrupting me to demand a line. I can hit a wall, fall on my ass and stay there for want of coffee.
If I wake up in a motel or someplace where there is no coffee I will go out and get some without even brushing my teeth, and persist in my quest for coffee until I score. Even on a bad day you won’t see me out there copping a bag.
Therefore, coffee is more addictive than cocaine. QED.

Small language rant:
“How will this impact our company”? Sorry, that is wrong and doesn’t make much sense. There is a tendency to dumb down language as if it is cute to do so. In the process, words or syllables get lopped off. In the example: what happened to the word “affect”? If they want to use “impact” then they need a few more words as in: “what sort of impact will this have on the company”.
Next: “invites”: “did you send out the invites Skeezik”? The abbreviation works fine if you say it with a southern accent and spit afterwords. “Invitations” just isn’t that much of a tongue twister to be abandoned. Gotcher invite to the cross burnin floyd.
The queen mother of current language idiocy is the term “from the get go” (or fum de git go). What pitiful soul came up with that one? Sophisticated businessmen (I know – that’s an oxymoron) use it all the time. Again it leads me to think that a bit of tobacco juice may be coming my way when I hear that expression. Ah hell, Billy I node yur wife was yur sister fum de git go. Yee-haw!
There are many, many more. “Have a good one”! said cheerily by just about every check-out person. A good what?? I usually say “Thanks, but I have other plans” and leave them staring blankly into space, the trickle of tobacco juice starting to bubble at the corner of the mouth.
“You know what I’m sayin?” – “I hear you” – “well, if you ask me…” (fuck you, I didn’t nor was I even thinking of asking you) – “that’s what I always say”. The list grows and grows, doesn’t it.
Add your favorites and we’ll see how they impact this blog. This blog has been a good one from the git go and I invitation you to participate. Know what I’m sayin?

I work in downtown Chicago, just a few short blocks from the famous retail establishment, Marshall Fields, affectionately known by insiders as simply, “Fields.” In order to access the stairwell leading to the Red Line “El” train, passerbys must -oddly enough- pass by an individual who stands in front of Fields every single week day with a crackly amplifier and a poor quality microphone preaching loudly and passionately about the sinful ways of mortals. His sermon never changes and he always admonishes those whom he spots smoking that, “THERE ARE NO CIGARRETTES IN HEAVEN!” This assertion is followed by a related concept: “THERE ARE NO WHISKEY BOTTLES IN HEAVEN!”
Well, my question is simply this: What the hell is the point of a heaven like that?

I was a first grade student in a middle class white Maryland suburb in about 1966. Think Johnson administration, automobiles with fins.
I befriended a kid named Dennis Godbald. Note the unusual surname, which I’ve never encountered again. Godbald was not from the same socio-economic stratum as most of the kids. He was white welfare trash. And he was “bad” — a bit of a discipline problem. Maybe his home life was more dysfunctional than most — maybe. In any case, I don’t think he was stupid. He had a rebellious spirit and a well-developed sense of humor.
One day Godbald and I were walking through the schoolyard discussing the possibility of doing something — I forget what — and I remarked that our teacher, Mrs. Leroy, would probably disapprove. And Godbald said these exact words: “Aw, shit on Mrs. Leroy.” I laughed at the disrespectful attitude and the blunt way it was expressed.
Shit on Mrs. Leroy has informed my thinking about authority ever since. Not that all authority is to be disrespected; rather, the burden of proof is on authority to prove its legitimacy. A test which the perhaps well-meaning Mrs. Leroy failed, from young Dennis Godbald’s point of view.