tribute to one woman who raised me

“never mind that…”
“don’t tempt me…”
“stop your catterwalling”
“you’re not doing yourself any good, and you’re not doin me any good, either.”
“bit of hard work never hurt anyone.”
“don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched.”
“you mind your manners…” and probably my favorite:
“what in God’s name did I do to deserve this?”

“penny saved is a penny earned.”
“does me as much good as it does them.”
“finish your plate.”
“don’t you EVER let me catch you doing that again!”
“now how do you figure that?”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses…”
“you do what I say, this minute!”
“how about that?”
“for heaven sakes, I told you a million times!”
“no time like the present.”
“don’t be going out in the cold without a jacket.”
“and when did you decide YOU rule the roost?”
“and when did you decide that makes sense?”
“and when did you decide to leave it like that?”
“never too late to say you’re sorry.”
“you hush up and sit up straight.”
“I don’t want to hear another word out of you.”

“sometimes it’s better to leave things alone.”
“nobody asked you your opinion.”
“we’ll think about that one later.”
“do I ever get a break around here?”
“never mind that! you look at me when I’m talking to you.”
“don’t try my patience…”
“don’t you be lolly-gaggin around here!”
“if you knew it was wrong, why did you do it?”
“there’s no sense worrying about that now.”
“why on EARTH would you do something like that?
“you got two feet, you use them!”
“don’t have the sense God gave a goose.”
“if you can manage to play, then you can get your homework done.”
“don’t you worry about what they think about you, you worry about what I think about you.”
“be a good girl and find where I put my (insert lost item here).”
“no sense crying, it’s not the end of the world.”
“if you can’t do it right the first time, why bother?”
one of my favorites, “you want something to cry about, I’ll give you something to cry about!”
“those old biddies always stickin their nose into things.”
“no one gave you the right to be obnoxious.”
“you’d forget your head if it wasn’t tied on!”
“doesn’t make things better by fussing and pitchin a fit.”
“don’t give me that, you know better!”
“how many times have I told you?”
“you have a brain, use it!”

removing net neutrality has no benefit but greased palms

the important statement in this article, is that there is no conceivable benefit to declassifying the internet as a utility and removing net neutrality.  

the benefit is to the politician, that gets a new big boy in their corner.  but they should understand exactly how many are not in their corner, if they go this path.  and how the Republican, that might say, “good! stick it to those liberal scum!” will be the business owner that has to pay cable an extra fee for having a website attached to his store.  the small business owner is the one that will have his online store bumped, in order to deliver bigger stores easier and faster to the internet user.

and the only reasoning, for politicians to WANT the elimination of net neutrality, is it puts them in the game.  the cable company (ISP) gets to decide which business lives or dies.  and that sets up a whole chain of tit for tat, that your politician wants to be a part of.  

that’s it.  there is no reason for them to change current rules, except that they want to start a whole new game.

and it will be a ferocious game.  say you own a nice, stable stock in that big online store? it will bottom out overnight.  the merry chorus of puppets would all have a new string, one called, “who is making the ISP happy?”  very real game they want to play, and your politician is applying for quarterback.  
“The relentless fighting over net neutrality rules needs to end, but how can it? “- LA Times

essay on the importance of varied reading levels within the product of the rhetorical critic

the hardest thing about writing is gauging your audience. I could just leave it at that, and be nice and succinct. you wish….haha

now I don’t know how other writers work things, but I myself change the reading comprehension levels according to perceived audience, and without a computer. the levels will change, even within one blog, according to that which I hope to go to more skilled minds, versus that which is geared for common consumption. and of course, this is the nature of rhetorical criticism…no explosive matter should go to those who are not adequately gifted in intelligence, to pass it along.

so there is that, and how responsibility affects any type of political or societal criticism.

many pick the safest subjects, or theory that is already on the table. and then go with the lowest common denominator. the problem seen, then, is what is being served on that critic’s table. and a good, current working model of that problem, is 45.

the nature of no responsibility, when leveling all correspondence to the lowest common denominator, then creates a factor of unpredictability for its spread. so the choice of this method itself, is generally by shysters and cons, with nothing to lose and everything to gain. they are not basing believe-ability upon integrity, but are basing influence upon degree of spread.

back to honest rhetorical communication….

so the writer with several degrees of reading levels under their belts, are the better rhetorical critics. not only that, but often the use of deeper meaning can bring the reader into a “club” that actually “gets it.”

now I will tell you, that having these writing capabilities, does not lead to good communication in real life! things will escape your mouth, that are double-edged. and you won’t realize it until you note the dismay on someone’s face. they pulled a different or hurtful meaning from your words. also, some may close down and be hostile, because they are ALWAYS looking for hidden meanings. and they sure will find it in the conversation with the rhetorical critic! we specialize in allowing others to dig their own grave.

not that I’m much good, but some of my technique has taken off. why I am so distressed with politics, of late, to see those techniques used to now deceive the American public? it’s not exactly like being the inventor of the atomic bomb, but I imagine the feelings have a similarity. the scramble for damage control. the antidote that must be found for your own machination.

and I’m not the only one, the entire American writing world is doing a collective freakout. so the hardest thing about writing, is gauging your audience. part of judging a fellow writer, might be to scroll down and look at the members of the ‘like’ group. why? because the audience you draw, is a hint as to the level or class the writing works to hit.

and my biggest fault, is I don’t give others enough credit, and dumb down to the point that I, myself, am floundering for the right words. for the correct words. for the best words. indecision in writing, will always disrupt the flow. and the one thing about going lower for the purpose of hitting a more average audience, is that if you lose the flow, you just lost the language.

so determining the audience, is a very large part of what you will write about, and how you will write it.

many will say, “well I write only for myself!” if others are reading your work, you are not writing for yourself. the definition for writing for yourself, is actually only writing for yourself. if others are reading, and if you display writing in a public venue, you are writing for others. and the perception of those others, will color your capability. some might use their own reading level index, for writing. and that is seeing the lowest common denominator as yourself.

so those above your level, will be critical of your stature as a person. those below, will be worshipful. and so those who wish to deal in neither scorn, nor worship, will use many reading comprehension levels within their writing.

and I admit, it is a little fun, to surprise people with your capability, when they based an opinion of you while you were lowering your level to reach the comprehension levels of those you were addressing at the time.

many see us, as too crafty. as having a foundation in trickery, and so to be admired or scorned, but never to be befriended.

and that’s the crux of the matter. if I spoke genuinely to inform you about my generous nature, would that be believable? not out of the mouth of a surfing rhetorical critic. we are built to be believed, and to not be believed. to joke, and to question, and to play the roles to discover where they lead.

we are the writer of many voices. often those levels of comprehension are misjudged. non pros like me are generally on their own blogs, clunking along on a fiddle, where the pros are doing symphonies of beautiful work. absolute divine orchestrations of persuasion.

though the one good thing, of singular work, is that we can set the comprehension level height for the greatest available to use, not the highest available to the average reader. and of course, one of my complaints, is that newspapers have lowered their expectations in readership so drastically in recent decades, that they are darn near primers for second grade at this point.

not to be critical, but it becomes habit. and switching gears of language according to the person you are addressing, does not gain you much in the world of societal compilations. it works as a tell, for what you think of others. of course, I’m devious enough to play with that. figure why not? not liked much, to begin with.

why I try to let those I care about know, I always bluff low. because bluffing low is not an exaggeration, but a misrepresentation inside of humility. I see it as less of a mark on my character, I suppose.

therefore, I rarely stretch to the limits of my communication capabilities within the connection devolving with others. it’s not that I do not trust the comprehension levels, it’s that the temptation to put on airs with a higher level of diction, is a temptation I don’t want to relive.

have you ever used a word incorrectly as a child, and then learned later that it meant the opposite of your use? but the people you were talking to, agreed, because they knew what you meant, not based on what you said??? yea, that haunts me, as a reminder of my own failure. in more ways than one.

I suppose i am saying that writers must be a type of chameleon, and change according to the background, that is the audience. the readers, the interpreters of life highlighted through word….

some chameleons change fast, some change slow. the fast are hated more for the very thing that allows them their adaptability….the degrees of perception.

from an otherwise sane perspective…what I see, dished in small enough amounts so that they don’t overwhelm you as much as they overwhelm me. the greatest authors often don’t incorporate much buffer. but without buffer, their notions can hit hard.

talk about inventing the atomic bomb. even a two bit like Stephen King, he changed the way society viewed horror. kicked it up a notch. then Koontz surpassed him, WITH a hero element. and King saw the way to incorporate a happy ending, and not lose the powerful effect of laying bare naked, mans inhumanity to man. and while the view of some may not be changed, because they never read those works…they interact with those who did read, and so their views are changed secondarily. and therefore, much of writing and its worthwhile capabilities, depend upon those second and third and fourth waves. if the second wave counters the first, then you get the phenom in society, where people are telling each other, you HAVE to read this book! you just HAVE to watch this movie!

so all that is interesting, but the point is that writing is an element that works like a thread through the tapestry of human life. consistent goals, means that those threads will hold through the second and third waves. you will be able to recognize your work on other levels.

but a fourth wave means it is going to break. the chaos of an unraveling, a melt to the conceptual bind.

and then you have clean up on aisle five. if it reaches six, all hell has broken loose, and the society you worked to enlighten, just got laid bare to be manipulated by what I will laughingly call wave seven. wave seven is made up of the opportunists that circle like buzzards, looking for a niche that brings their dreams of multiplied wealth to fruition. and so we have the socialist fear of writers. the communist hatred of comedians. the disruption of order, for those political bodies, is too great a risk. the pros and cons are seen as too much con. not to mention, that they work the weakness of other societies that DO have a free press. they insert propaganda to push things from wave five, to wave six.

they open up the vulnerabilities produced by accustoming any body of people to a certain brand of rhetoric. and so, the complications become magnified, for why there is an importance, when persuading others, of continuing a type of responsibility for not just your material, but the fallout of your material. and this is the juncture where most writers go mad. you can’t take on the mantle of this responsibility, without throwing in the temptation of, “look ma, how powerful I am!” and so it goes…

better to surf with humility. to bluff low, and to raise high. to glorify in this type of capitalism, because a circus without the clowns, is just a sideshow. and a world without (freedom) writers, would be very bleak, indeed.

bits and dose on the planes of mainly spain

she says hi, with a smile
that reminds me of my past kindnesses.

at the Wal-Mart checkout:
the location of bated deliverance,
the line where every bit of Busy
combats every dose of camaraderie.

the walk is not unpleasant. i dash across
the street,
legs pumping with the knowledge
that drivers pay less attention to
walkers at intersections.

the grayness of the street, the blueness
of the sky.
the freedom of thought, to see the grayness,
and the blueness.

above the walker, certainly toes are forgotten.

the steps a matter of seeing their difference,
for the wheel that moves faster, and buzzes by;
like giant insects creating a disturbing wind…

so i cancel them.

unseen, it is just me, and the sky;
the blocks to the store.

where the smile of the clerk, reminds
me of my past kindnesses.

soothes the empty hollow,
that kindness has been avoiding for days.

all hungers to scream inside a difference.
the longing–the wish to dive
into similarity is so strong,
so unbelievably churning.

i question whether my differences are necessary.

i hold them to the light,
see through them like they aren’t there, yet
vision seeks the map as well…like the vein of a leaf.

then i walk home,
with a bigger smile than i had
before i walked to the store.

you plant the seed and it rewards
at a later time, in another way.

life is not fruitless, the bits and
dose remain sanely on the plane.

flowers will blink from outside stalls,
but they also tenderly wave as the cars pass.
maybe breeze is breeze;

or maybe in some very fundamental way,
movement is collective or singular…

and the earth is big, while
my journey — so very, very small.