Hi friends.
It’s been a long time. I know, I know. I’m a scumbag. The world needed—no, needed isn’t a strong enough word—demanded
[1] that I share my opinions and insights on a variety of topics, and I let the world down. You came here day after day, to this bloggeration, hoping beyond hope for some new diatribe filled with made-up words and wild proclamations
[2]. You do this because you realize that my hold on sanity is tenuous at best, and this makes you feel better about yourselves by default. Now when you come to this bloggeration
[3] all you see is a void that has been untended since early July. I realize that this void I’ve created extends from your computer monitors, all the way into your hearts
[4].
You trusted me to provide you with minutes of comedy
[5] three to four times a week and I betrayed that trust. I’m immensely sorry for letting you down, and hope that someday—somehow—I can regain your trust.
I want to continue thrizzling
[6] your faces off, but due to constraints on my time, mental abilities, and financial restraints
[7]. Moving forward, I’m going to try to post a new blogerration once a week, on the weekends. These bloggerations may or may not be longer than their predecessors were, but I can tell you that they will have:
· More gratuitous footnotes per line-of-text than any other bloggeration on the internet
[8].
· Illogical boasts, braggadocios use of my unrivaled verbal prowess and crazed rants about the various and sundry everyday occurrences that roust my anger from its sleep—like some horrendous Lovecraftian terror-beast, slouching towards the interweb to be born
[9].
· The occasional unwarranted use of simile and metaphor.
· Anger. So much anger.
· An excessive, nearly pornographic, overuse of both the comma and the exclamation mark
[10].
· Bulleted lists, to improve clarity and understanding within the messaging.
· Insincere intellectualism.
Now that apologies have been made and expectations have been laid clear, I can proceed with the doing out what I came here to do today: a frank and earnest discussion about Ayn Rand and literature
[11]!!!
Earlier this week, I went against my strict ‘no purchasing of books’ policy
[12] and purchased a copy of Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged. Due to forces beyond my control I, along with everyone else on my team, have had to adjust our work schedules to cover day-to-day operations. This means working nights and weekends, with occasional downtime. At the time, I found myself between books so I walked to a local bookstore on my break to find something to occupy my time when communicating to the masses.
Atlas Shrugged, for those of you who’ve never had the pleasure, is essentially a 1070 page novel about a dystopian United States in which a group of innovative pioneers and captains of industry refuse to let society exploit them
[13]. It’s the sort of novel that almost requires one to keep a flow chart with the names/roles of the characters beside them throughout the reading. So far, I’ve encountered roughly 16 characters of varying importance. These characters often appear to drop bombshells with no reintroduction after being absent from the plot for 100 pages or more
[14].
I’m only 170 pages into the novel, but I must say that so far I’m enjoying it.
Now that all contextual preambles have been established, we can finally get down to business. Earlier this week I was at work—being a communications machine—when a person from another department who works on my floor happened by and noticed that I was reading the book, as I had sat it on my desk before starting work. I should say that I don’t typically like to leave the books that I’m reading lying about where strangers and acquaintances can notice them. To me, books/hobbies/musical preferences/recreational drug habits/etc. belong solely to the person partaking in said activity. I believe that they do whatever it is that they do because they enjoy it, and it’s not my place to sit in judgment of the things they derive pleasure from
[15]. That being said, the ensuing conversation did wander off into an interesting place.
This person, who shall go un-named, asked me why I was reading this book. I told them that I was reading the book because it was the cheapest book in the bookstore that sounded interesting. His response was “I’ve… I’ve never heard anyone give that as a response for reading a book before,” coupled with a look of puzzlement and astonishment on his face.
I suppose that his look of confusion was due in large part to my honesty
[16]. We went on to have a brief, but nonetheless meaningful conversation about how people rarely say things of that nature. I can only assume that he wanted me to give some scholarly answer, as people rarely read books that long for pleasure. I find this slightly appalling, because there are countless other things in life that we do out of want, and not necessity.
Think about it:
How many times have you eaten something, not because you wanted to, but because it was all that was available to you at the time?
How many times have you watched a television program that you didn’t truly care about, but still watched it because there was simply nothing better on?
How many times have you gone on an outing with your friends that you didn’t want to, but still went because your friends wanted to do so?
How many hours have you logged on facebook/twitter/foursquare/etc. because you couldn’t find any other alternative to your current activities?
Doing something “just because” isn’t really an uncommon practice. However, when this logic was applied to my reading choices, I was looked upon as some sort of Columbus, sailing blindly into the western seas of logic—doomed to someday sail over the edge of sanity into the barren wastelands of eccentricity. After our conversation was finished, the person left, back to their own lives of order, where every book that is read is read with a purpose. I’m 99 percent certain that the person in the conversation who wasn’t me went about the rest of their day, never giving another thought to the conversation. I believe that most folks never pause to consider their conversations, or what said conversations may mean
[17], but I am not most men.
In the past few days, this conversation has given me much time to consider; why does man read anything
[18]? After much consideration, I realized that there were only a few key reasons why anyone would read any book or other publication:
· To learn some greater truth about themselves or the world around them
[19].
· To learn something that will better equip them to provide for themselves or those around them
[20].
· To entertain themselves during a brief portion of their trip from birth to the grave
[21].
Other than that, there aren’t really a lot of reasons why you would read anything. You read self help books “just because” you want to be a better person. You read comic books and Danielle Steele novels “just because” you want to be entertained
[22]. You read books in college “just because” they’ll help you make fat stacks of cash
[23].
Anything you do beyond that is just pointless posturing. You should never do anything with the sole intent of making yourself look better. It comes off as phony, and everyone will see through you like a thin t-shirt. When it comes down to it, do you. If people don’t like the things that you like, do you want to associate with them anyway
[24]?
Ya’ll stay classy… wherever ya’ll is…
Blakely A-dam Sumner
[1] Perhaps ‘demanded’ is too strong of a word as well. In fact, the reality of it is that I got bored one night and made a blog that six people read, but do not enjoy. These people clearly are clearly sadists who have nothing better to do than subject themselves to the abject horror of this unfortunate confluence of words. I pity you, but at the same time love you.
[2] Past examples of this include, but are in no way limited to, the following: My belief that all vampires should be referred to, not as vampires, but as draculas; the fact that I seem to believe that Amelia Earhart and Helen Keller were the same person; my love of Skymall magazine; my love affair with Dave Eggers; and the fact that I love/hate Kanye West.
[3] See! Made-up words people!
[4] Your coal-black heart.
[5] Once again, I feel that comedy may not be the best choice of words but, like progress, we will continue to march forward until I have the opportunity to invent a word that is an adequate descriptor of what exactly it is that I do here.
[6] SEE!!! MORE NEW WORDS!!! SOMEBBODY GET WEBSTER’S DICTIONARY ON THE PHONE ASAP!!! WE’RE GONNA BE RICH BABY!!!
[7] That last part is, in all likelihood, a damnable lie from Hell’s fiery furnaces. Writing this bloggeration costs me nothing. Well, nothing but my dignity and ten fingers that have been worn down to nothing after untold hours slaving away at a keyboard
[8] Because, really, a bloggeration on the internet is the perfect place to make frequent use of the footnote.
[9] For example: People who take entirely too long to put sugar and cream in their coffee, while simultaneously taking up the entire island devoted to said cream and sugar. I mean really, the entire interaction should take thirty seconds max.
[10] I’m comma crazy people!!!!
[11] By the way, that sound you just heard was the sound of the eyes of my entire readership—all six of you—glazing over. I realize this may sound like a boring topic. In the hands of a less deft wordsmith, it most likely would be. Luckily, you’re riding with the king baby. I encourage you to stick with me. You may learn something.
[12] Simply put, I rarely re-read any book I buy. Furthermore, I truly enjoy an even smaller percentage of the books I read. Therefore, spending fifteen to twenty-five dollars on something that will gather dust on a bookshelf in the library of my mansion seems absurd to me.
[13] Thanks Wikipedia, made that explaining the moral crux of the novel much, much simpler for me.
[14] Yes, I realize this sounds horrible. However, form what I surmise; the novel isn’t about the characters so much as it’s about the character’s ideals. This is extremely ironic, given Ayn Rand’s status as the creator of objectivism.
[15] Granted, I’m painting with an excessively broad brush here. Sometimes people do incredibly stupid things that harm themselves and others. In those instances, you should probably step in to stop them from harming themselves irreparably. However, if a man likes to sit in his underpants and watch Family Guy while devouring a three pound bag of Skittles, I don’t think he should be judged too harshly.
[16] In case you’ve forgotten in my absence, I’m a truth warrior of unrivaled skill.
[17] This thought fills my heart with a slight sadness, and my belly with hunger.
[18] Understandably, an argument could—and has—been made by many armchair philosophers and stoners the world over. I applaud these shiftless gadabouts for their capacity to think about these weighty matters of import. I am not these men though, and that is not where our focus lies. I am here to talk about a specific issue, and if you don’t like what I have to say you can go play volleyball.
[19] This would apply to religious and philosophical works.
[20] To put it colloquially, book learnin’ of the sort that takes place in schools and colleges to help you in your chosen career.
[21] Maudlin, but truthful.
[22] Albeit, in an completely un-classy way.
[23] This point is subject for debate. I know several people who went to college who have to roll pennies to buy their groceries. Meanwhile, I know people who are borderline retarded who go home to their mansions each night and dive into pools or money—without caring about how truly unsanitary that really is—Scrooge McDuck style.
[24] Unless you’re spending time with that person because you happen to find that other person attractive. That just makes you shallow.
