The Most Brilliant Woman in the World
[Author Note: Be sure to read the embedded footnotes. You will thank me for saving you a ton of scrolling.]
It is my intention to write this entire essay without the use of a comma. Neither shall I use a semicolon since part of it is made from the comma. Don’t get me wrong. I love commas. We are besties. A well-placed comma can turn a convoluted sentence into a thing of beauty.
Why am I writing this essay without a comma? It is simple. I love a challenge. Writers often get their kicks in the most esoteric of fashions that totally confuse the rest of the world. But the other reason I’m avoiding commas is this:
Commas are so misused and misunderstood as to be ridiculous. To start a fight in a bar all one need do is say “Anyone not using the Oxford Comma is a pussy!” I’ve done this. The fight lasted two hours and involved many men drinking lots of beer and wine and pounding on the bar while hollering “You don’t believe in the Oxford Comma? YOU SUMBITCH! Ain’t that right? Angela? He’s a sumbitch. Ain’t that right?” After which I hollered back. “That’s right, Baby! Sock ‘em a good one for me. Baby, you hear me? Sock ‘em. Sock ‘em good!”
The place hadn’t seen such madness before or since. Which totally surprised me because we were in Decatur, neighbor to and northeast of Atlanta by a skosh. Atlanta/Decatur is home to certain institutions of higher learning who say they value punctuation. Agnes Scott. Emory. Georgia Tech. Georgia State. And one seminary who clings to a certain comma because without it they would have to change their doctrine and that’s all I’m gonna say about that. Wouldn’t you think that with these four university-slash-colleges in such proximity that surely to heaven a fight over commas in a bar would have already broken out?
Then again…we are talking Decatur where the men vote Blue and are genteel and learned and practice the art of disagreement by writing a paper and getting it published and the women are lesbians even if they married a self-identified male and have children by those men.
The author sort of exaggerates here though she has it on good authority inseminations are done in a sterile lab.
Not for them the fisticuffs of drunken comma fights. No way. No how.
[2] Does the reader see how smooth the author was in the avoidance of the use of a comma in the last two sentences? Damn. She is good.
When interviewed about the entire paragraph she was quoted thusly: “The breaking up of the clichéd comment into two short but whole sentences caused a major upping of the power of the thought thus rendering the cliché as a new art form that writers would do well to study. Please be advised that Linda Sands and I are available to teach a three-day seminar on this topic as well as the bonus topic of Medicinal Margaritas and Their Proper Place in a Writer’s Life at any foreign port of call.
“Our fee is $5,000,000. Half due upfront as a deposit. Travel and hotel expenses extra. We take credit cards and PayPal transfer payments at PayPal.me/AngelaKDurden. Receipt will be sent via email.”
Let me say this another way my readers in Red states might understand better: Decatur is not a place you would ever find Dave Barry hanging out.
At this very same bar is where I had my first encounter with a lesbian couple who liked threesomes. I kept turning around trying to see who they were looking at behind me. Then I realized it was me they had spied with their little roving eyes. Oh! Hayle no. I wrinkled my brow and shook my head and made the gesture of slitting my throat in the biggest negatory ever. That’s when they turned around to see who I was turning down. They were so disappointed.
But back to the fight in the bar. Maybe it took the introduction of a real woman
into the mix to get the men’s dander up.
By that the author means heterosexual. She hopes she does not hear any whining from the LGBTQ-Z1-?-Curios because this is a book of humor and she hopes the reader has learned how to laugh already.
The owners still flinch when I walk in with a book. I was once headed off at the door and told this was not a good evening for me to be there.
The misuse of commas these days is out of control. Many years ago I edited a manuscript that had sentence after sentence with six or more commas in each. I went insane looking for the story in what he thought were brilliant incomplete clause-laden sentences broken apart by commas thrown in like ammo coming from a machine gun wielded by a meth head jonesin’ for his next hit. Holy Frickin’ Moley.
This comma thing got me to thinking. Those who have no respect for commas must be P-HWPCLDRSFCs.
Let me explain. These folks believe several things.
In case you’ve forgotten: Pussy-Hat Wearing Politically Correct Liberal Democrat RINO Socialist Fascist Commies.
One: Rules do not apply to them.
Two: Rules can be broken willy-nilly.
Three: Rules can be ignored when one doesn’t like them.
Four: New rules can be made up on the spot.
Five: Those new rules only apply to you and not to them.
Sounds a lot like a Socialist Ruling-Class Wannabe to me. We are having a lot of those pop out of the woodwork these days. One example is the 2018 Midterm Elections in the United States wherein the Georgia Secretary of State was running for governor. His name is Brian Kemp. His opponent was one Stacey Abrams.
Abrams crisscrossed the U.S. looking for funding and went up and down the state registering what she called “disenfranchised voters”.
The author writes this in October 2018: She predicts Stacey Abrams will lose. We will check in after the election to determine if she is correct. AFTER ELECTION RESULTS: SHE IS CORRECT.
She and her non-profit’s employees did it all wrong — almost twenty-five thousand times.
Many of those they registered were flagged because they were either non-existent or names and other legally identifying information on the voter registration forms did not match state driver’s licenses and/or Social Security numbers assigned by the Feds.
That’s right! People spelled their own names incorrectly and Abrams’ helpers did not think to confirm the spellings. These people also forgot their Socials. How does one do that?
One registered as Jesus Christ of Heavenly Lane. No Social Security number or driver’s permit or photo ID. And no ZIP.
But Stacey Abrams’ people found him and signed him up and then whined when his application was completely rejected. So what did Abrams do? The next step was logical. She went on the offensive. She and her minions
deployed a huge campaign accusing Kemp of voter registration tampering to keep her from being governor.
Actually, it happens all the time. Just ask anybody who has to read a resume or job application.
He lived in Blue Ridge. This is deep in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. So…that ‘splains a lot.
That’s right! Abrams pretty much said all those stupid people and illegals deserved to vote no matter whether they could prove who they were or where they lived. But who was the stupid one in this instance? You’re right!
Abrams manufactured this so-called crisis by claiming Kemp himself was manipulating the system. The truth of the matter was different. Flagging was done by county registrars doing their duty to confirm voter information was correct.
There is also an interesting thing happening as I write this. There is a growing walking caravan of migrants coming up from Honduras and Ecuador and Guatemala
with the stated intent of invad-…errrrr…I mean…crossing the border into the United States without having the legal right to do so. Mexican police unsuccessfully tried to stop them but were beaten up for their troubles and decided to “escort” the caravan instead. Fifteen hundred dropped out and applied to stay in Mexico — and Mexico took them.
This group initially consisted of entire families. Yes. Children were included. They were leaving conditions so horrible that walking the 1800+ miles through Mexico to “freedom” was a better alternative and they were there to demand asylum — or so the mainstream media reported. By the time the caravan reached Mexico’s border hardly any “families” remained. U.S. flags were being covered in swastikas and burnt. Flags from their countries were being waved. They even got their chant wrong. Instead of saying “Yes we can!” they said “Yes we could!”
I am not surprised at Mexico. It is my understanding Mexican police work for the drug cartels and so are only used to shooting unarmed Mexican citizens. They aren’t used to having to deal with well-funded multi-national gangs… errrr…I mean poor people seeking a better life. Nor are they used to having the bright light of international media shining on them in a highly politicized situation. No wonder their police got their asses whupped. But there was another reason bloody police pictures were all over the Internet. To warn President Trump that he should be mighty skeert
of the righteous caravan.
This is a Southern American phrase which means scared to the point of being a yella-belly and maybe pissing one’s pants as one views the trouble coming one’s way.
That’s right! Trump better open that border or else he was going to have a can of whup-...Hang on just a second. I must take this posted update on the situation from that most favored of real-news curators and fake-news-stopping social media giant Bacefook. Seems relevant and important and so I must not ignore it.
“Honduran…”
[Huh. Peruse and Scroll.]
“Migrants push north…”
[Venezuela is south. So. No, duh. Peruse and Scroll.]
“Five myths debunked…”
[Sure they are. Peruse and Scroll.]
“Trump holding back aid…”
[It’s Hammer Time! Peruse and Scroll.]
“Anybody who votes for…”
[Huh? Peruse and Scroll.]
“Bitch! You’re not a woman. You are a 300-pound Russian male hacker, you c—
.”
[Whoa! Does your mama let you kiss her with that mouth?]
The author was actually called this on Bacefook by someone purporting to be a man but who seemed to be confused about what a woman is. Real men are never confused about that. The C-word is not a nice word. Are you still scratching your heads because you cannot figure out the word? In alphabetical sequence the letters in the word are: C. N. T. U. The author leaves the sorting to you.
My reply: “Hey, dude, now you’re just flirting.”
I thank you for your patience.
Now we can get back to the reason for this essay.
The mainstream media is not mentioning anything about how this group is managing to carry nothing with them but is somehow totally getting fed and keeping clean and hydrated or that their “big walk” is timed to coincide with the “most important midterm elections in our lifetimes” in the United States. Nor have they mentioned how they hope like hell that the military will act under Trump’s orders and kill all those poor migrant folks at the U.S.-Mexican border so they can get their Democrat Socialist candidates elected and be able to say na-na-na-boo-boo to those big bad Republicans who hate children and pussy hats and gender-queer-curious vegan tree-hugging union members.
I seem to have gotten off track here. Look. It is difficult to write on a good day. But you try not using commas and see how the pressure mounts.
Look: I’m under a lot of pressure here…No…I will not stop using apostrophes or ellipses…What?!?...Now you’re just tying my hands…Dude?…Oh. So now you hate me because…
I know you are. But what am I?...Sticks and stones, dude. Sticks and stones!...I will not stop using quote marks or colons…You shut up first…Oh! Well then. It’s on…
Where was I? No commas. Migrant caravan. Pussy-hat…Oh, yeah. I’m back on track.
So the pussy-hat Socialists cannot get enough votes from citizens. What do they do? They go out and illegally register non-citizens to vote thinking nobody is going to notice them breaking the law of the land. Then — and here we’ve come full circle — they whine like a
gurrrly-mahn when somebody notices they broke voter and election laws and won’t let them get away with it.
It is imperative the reader imagine an Arnold Schwarzenegger accent to get the full flavor of just how pitiful gurrrly-mahn types can whine.
I hate gurrrly-mahn whining. Do you see me whining about not getting to use any commas? You do not see me whining because I’m not a gurrrly-mahn. That may not be the best argument as to why I don’t whine, but heck, it’s the best I’ve got after writing this entire thing without com-…oops, my bad.
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