I’ve spent a lot of time pumping the rough draft of this post with the writing equivalent of pineapple juice so that it would taste sweet when the expectorant discharge of sarcasm and wit hit the multitudinous tastebuds of your mental sensory apparatus. Every since I read about it in Glamour I have done this to all my postings.
I’m not always sarcastic, sometimes I am quite taciturn, and silent. Other times I play the harmonica only to enlarge my already pleonastic collection of mouth organ jokes (A harmonica is also known as the mouth organ as are also ex gf ((that joke killed last Christmas party)). Making people laugh is infinitely more rewarding than prayer or watching reruns of the Wire. But behind all of this boorish badinage, there is a hidden sweetness from which all the words flow.
Why The Sarcasm
We were at a family dinner with my significant other and my mom and dad my sister and her mute BF at the time. My mother ask if I still go downtown to run some errands. I said yes going downtown to run errands is the key to a happy marriage and partnership. Suffice it to say no further questions were asked.
This was an act of mercy. Rather than let the conversation go on and end up in a shout fest or recounting harsh stories of lack of parental attention from my youth, and how the methods of discipline and punishment employed on me were in many ways the antiquated vestiges of colonialism, in one fell swoop I made everyone uncomfortable enough to keep up an faked happy appearance and to more importantly focus on what we were cramming into our gullets. The Buddha talks a lot about how we should be conscious of what we are doing – it took serious conscious concentration to get as big as the statues they sell in china town of him.
and I love you (well sorta …I guess in a cold, distant, callous way reminiscent of marital relationships from the 50’s )
The SAT Content of this Post: AMAZINGLY HIGH