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04/04/2025
Have you found the needle yet? Did you make a stitch in time? Have you found rhyme or reason? Have you ever been on Cloud 9?
Our language used to be richly idiomatic, with subtle innuendo, sexy syntax and powerful construction. Now it’s riddled with idiotic wrongs, with rights that should be rites, I that should be me, and which that should be that. Myriad mistakes on a myriad of levels. We thumb-type in code, staccato SOS signals, sharing drama-snivels in CAPS. The wrong kind of save-our-sentences message for human understanding.
Hands on, hearts off, words unwired and uninspired. From the shallow depths of digi-darkness, a daily dump of grammatical garbage and re-recycled non-words. Comma-less, comatose wordage, cluelessly clauseless. Yet everyone’s a writer, righting wrongs while wrongfully writing.
Taint the way it was…
Satire is a subtle skill, not an understudy for cynical put-downs. It’s a social service to the unthinking—words that transport, without fossil fuels or burdened mules required to take us there.
But what kind of wake-up wordage will pierce the deafening daily deluge—the digi-din of manic marketing that hijacks your heart and steals your soul, so you spend your daze on Facehook, trying to get them both back?
Everything’s political now, and everyone’s industry-friendly …even if wireless wonders fry your brain and make you digi-mental, shrinking your gonads until they’re the size of a lentil. Not just fatty figments of your imagination; you really are losing it.
Meanwhile, a manic muddle of misteria is climbing the balls of my gardenia. Rainbows of rhubarb are rooting for renegade rosaries. Lilting lipsticks on love-seeking selfies and a wordy web of me-mails. Who will win, in the tortured tangle of tipsy texting and soulless sexting, in a spin cycle that wrings you digi-rigidly dry?
When buttercups lose their yellowdom, will flutter-byes return to the cocoon? Will senile babies go back to the womb? Is man evolving, in shuffle-shoe socks barking at his ankles?
Could we all just die a peaceful digi-death now—before WiFi irradiates the Moon, spilling the un-tide-y seas into the sky and ending our grrrr-attitude to 5G?
Lovers of language used to also be lovers of truth, aware of the power of both. Language loved with beauty, lyricism and cogent truth tells a very different story.
Bring back the love.
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Thank you so much for being such a great teacher in language, wise words and friendship Olga. We are the evidence of how much damage EMF can do. I just love the words you use, your language is so much richer than my mother tongue. So many words to express subtle feelings are missing in my language. Love is the key! Love, :mirjam. of the schouten family, sovereign human BEing.