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Oh there it is!
IF IT WEREN’T FOR STUPID…WE’D ALL BE MORONIC.
Only those who/whom have never done anything stupid need reply with hostility. All others fail to realize what I’m talking about.
To those of you who get irritated at my use of who/whom, which you see as a frail attempt at humor…please be advised, I really do not know which word to use…so I cover all bases.
It is as close as I can get to sports these days, so please bear with me. I haven’t been to second base in a long time.
What that has to do with the subject, I’ll never know?
I say…I seem to have forgotten what I was writing?
Oh, there it is…No, that’s something else.
I suppose I could write it today instead of tomorrow, but then today’s news would tomorrow be yesterdays. Such are the unknown unsung trials and tribulations of a writer.
Is it not a rather quaint how I refer to myself as a writer, when in fact I should be called a typer, or in laymen’s terms, a typist, which is merely a person who/whom transposes the words of a writer.
The difference being…I know how to write.
I believe the subject was stupidity. A term I know quite well.
I tend to use it often, (The act not the word.)
Take these days for instance. I spent many hours trying to import my favorite Bottle Cap sound into my new phone’s notifications folder.
A shout of Eureka indicated success…when in fact I have no email or Facebook apps in the phone, so I will get no notifications.
If there were notifications of stupidity, Bottle Caps would be a popping!
Penwose Out,
By George
NoPo8
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I prided myself in my cursive writing. But it isn't very useful for writing books. Nobody even knows how to read cursive writing anymore. I took a typing class in tenth grade, eking out about 35 words per minute, corrected, learning format for letters, memos, essays, etc., rather than learning how to write. And banged out 60 letters, one of which got me an assistantship and the second that got me a fellowship as I left undergraduate coursework looking for a paid for master's degree. By George, I got one!
Finding that computers made things much easier, I decided to use a "canned" application letter for my first job after a doctorate done on a terminal and using a high-speed printer or connected typewriter/terminal to turn out individualized versions. My advisor received hate letters about me for my inability to be personal in my letter writing, relying on the infernal computer.
Since about 1992, I have been writing with my voice, millions of comments like this, all my books, and even entered data into Excel spreadsheets and database programs.
So, I have left writing for talking. This results in hogging the microphone and lengthy dissertations like this one, and often sticking my foot in my mouth (what an ugly sight!) to my dismay when I find out.
Bye, George,
Ron