A man walked into a bar. He told the bartender that he didn't have any money, but he would show the bartender something amazing in exchange for a drink. It was a slow day, so the bartender agreed.
The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a frog, a hamster and a tiny piano. The frog started playing a fantastic jazz solo. Then the hamster started singing along in an amazing duet. Impressed, the bartender gave the man a drink.
Just then another bar patron rushed up to the man and offered him $1,000 for the singing hamster. The man instantly agreed to the deal.
The patron paid the man and quickly left with the hamster. After the patron left, the bartender couldn't keep quiet anymore and exclaimed, "I can't believe you sold a singing hamster for only $1,000!"
The man shrugged and said, " the frog is a ventriloquist."
The Pleasures of Reading...
I love to read. When I have nothing to do I pick up a book and read. Sometimes I read for fun. Other times I read to learn something. I really enjoy reading.
Sometimes I become unhappy while reading. I will be enjoying a fine story when all of a sudden a big word will stare back at me. Now I know a few big words but, after all, isn't it true that in simplicity there is beauty?
Take the other day. While reading a particularly engrossing story I ran across the word "scree." I later found out that the word "scree" meant "pebbles and rocks." Why didn't the author just say "pebbles and rocks?"
Another thing. People just can't say anything the simple way any more. Yesterday I read about a guy "adroitly manipulating the shifting mechanism!" So he threw the car into second gear.
Now if I were a writer, I would try to avoid confusing my readers. We all feel that confused and pompous prose has no place in contemporary society. It does no good to engulf you readers in a sea of indistinguishable trivia.
I feel quite strongly about this. I feel that perpetual adherence to enigmatic expression stultifies intellectual response. Furthermore, excess circumlocution inevitably leads to incomprehensible mayhem.
When authors engage their literary crampons into my lethargic intellect, I feel like poking my pate into a catatonic mound of fronds and lianas. I would rather ascend icy scarps or embroil my ego into a capacious sea of undulating hummocks than perambulate through a plethora of insatiable verbiage.
Take the other day. While reading a particularly engrossing story I ran across the word "scree." I later found out that the word "scree" meant "pebbles and rocks." Why didn't the author just say "pebbles and rocks?"
Another thing. People just can't say anything the simple way any more. Yesterday I read about a guy "adroitly manipulating the shifting mechanism!" So he threw the car into second gear.
Now if I were a writer, I would try to avoid confusing my readers. We all feel that confused and pompous prose has no place in contemporary society. It does no good to engulf you readers in a sea of indistinguishable trivia.
I feel quite strongly about this. I feel that perpetual adherence to enigmatic expression stultifies intellectual response. Furthermore, excess circumlocution inevitably leads to incomprehensible mayhem.
When authors engage their literary crampons into my lethargic intellect, I feel like poking my pate into a catatonic mound of fronds and lianas. I would rather ascend icy scarps or embroil my ego into a capacious sea of undulating hummocks than perambulate through a plethora of insatiable verbiage.
It all leaves me flaccid as a sprag.
A guy spots a sign outside a house that reads "Talking Dog for Sale." Intrigued, he walks in.
"So what have you done with your life?" he asks the dog. "I've led a very full life," says the dog. "I lived in the Alps rescuing avalanche victims. Then I served my country in Iraq. And now I spend my days reading to the residents of a retirement home."
The guy is flabbergasted. He asks the dog's owner, "Why on earth would you want to get rid of an incredible dog like that?"
The owner says, "Because he's a liar! He never did any of that!"
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