Pathology
On this, the 75th anniversary of our great nation, I feel it is my duty to set pen to paper in tribute to His Glory, the Omnipotent Pathologist Howard Smythe. On this date in the year 2134, He bravely instigated the First Great Leap Forward by abolishing public speaking on grounds that it constituted noise pollution.
Only the oldest among us had the misfortune to live in the days before the Spontaneous Rhetorical Revolution (initiated by the aforementioned proclamation), when words were passed thoughtlessly between men and veiled the air like filthy snowflakes. In those days, simply walking the streets was an act of supreme courage, whereby one risked exposure to incidental verbal oppression at the hands of passing pedestrians. It was not uncommon, for example, to overhear venomous expressions like youthful indiscretion, new age music, and
Leonardo DiCaprio.
In the latter part of the 20th Century, American society was the canvass for the first of many failed attempts to fashion another Eden, the mythical garden depicted in the first book of the Old Holy Bible (this classic novel is worth the search). Known as the Age of Political Correctness, it was a chaotic chapter in the history of that failed community, an era that saw the manipulation of language in the name of appearances.
Nearly 150 years would pass before His Fantasticness rose to prominence as a member of the fledging Pathologist Party under a slogan enthusiastically provided by the estate of former American President Abraham Lincoln: "Better to be thought of as a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt."
During his campaign for the position of Supreme Being, he introduced a controversial platform that included a plan to end theft by requiring all citizens to surrender their desirable property. He convinced all within earshot that the Utopian dream could be realized only through the leadership of a benevolent despot. We are grateful for his efforts and flattered by his interest. Amen.
Since His emergence, we have all reveled in the sheer perfectness of it all and basked in the warmth of our own amazingness, always, it should be noted, in precious, uninterrupted silence.
I close on this day of worship with the words of 19th Century British writer George Eliot (aka Mary Ann Evans): "Blessed is the man who, having nothing to say, abstains from giving us wordy evidence of the fact."
Columbia University Updater: Volume 4, Issue 2, Spring 1999
Only the oldest among us had the misfortune to live in the days before the Spontaneous Rhetorical Revolution (initiated by the aforementioned proclamation), when words were passed thoughtlessly between men and veiled the air like filthy snowflakes. In those days, simply walking the streets was an act of supreme courage, whereby one risked exposure to incidental verbal oppression at the hands of passing pedestrians. It was not uncommon, for example, to overhear venomous expressions like youthful indiscretion, new age music, and
Leonardo DiCaprio.
In the latter part of the 20th Century, American society was the canvass for the first of many failed attempts to fashion another Eden, the mythical garden depicted in the first book of the Old Holy Bible (this classic novel is worth the search). Known as the Age of Political Correctness, it was a chaotic chapter in the history of that failed community, an era that saw the manipulation of language in the name of appearances.
Nearly 150 years would pass before His Fantasticness rose to prominence as a member of the fledging Pathologist Party under a slogan enthusiastically provided by the estate of former American President Abraham Lincoln: "Better to be thought of as a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt."
During his campaign for the position of Supreme Being, he introduced a controversial platform that included a plan to end theft by requiring all citizens to surrender their desirable property. He convinced all within earshot that the Utopian dream could be realized only through the leadership of a benevolent despot. We are grateful for his efforts and flattered by his interest. Amen.
Since His emergence, we have all reveled in the sheer perfectness of it all and basked in the warmth of our own amazingness, always, it should be noted, in precious, uninterrupted silence.
I close on this day of worship with the words of 19th Century British writer George Eliot (aka Mary Ann Evans): "Blessed is the man who, having nothing to say, abstains from giving us wordy evidence of the fact."
Columbia University Updater: Volume 4, Issue 2, Spring 1999
posted by Michael Novick at 11:03 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home