[Newspoetry] Dire Pedant is up and running

[DL Emerick]

I've no excuse for not starting a blog of my own, except for some miscellaneous fear, such as the one that used to pop up on posters and walls, a graffiti inquiring:

"What if they gave a war and no one came?"

Now, the form of this sentence is so utterly universal, that if anything could be patented at all, like genetic codes or source codes of all kinds, then this form should be prime material.  And, given the nature of language -- especially the one we all presume to speak, papering over the inenumerable differences between each of us in our own highly customized versions of this patent parent naively native language, none of which quite become dialectical variants, nor yet even invariants -- one could not say, of such a language form, unlike, say, math, that the form had to happen -- that it was damn well nigh inevitable in the structure of the logic of this presumptive language.

Now, the sentences of this latter paragraph do not exhibit the form of the discovered kind of resonant structure:
of the "what if they VERB1 a NOUN and nobody VERB2<?>" --

such as VERB1 := gave; NOUN := blog; VERB := read_it.

Parse, my friends, parse all things.

If you blog it, they will come?

There's something to be said for isolation, I suppose.  It fits the brand of liberal (or progressive (or anti-conservative (or anti-fascist))) that has become retired, one that has withdrawn, alienated, by retreating into a harmless closet cocoon -- where it spins its own webs, speaking to none except the dust that gathers when none are disturbed enough to be disturbing others.

A node, they say, is only as strong as the cluster of items of that connect to it.  A really powerful node has millions of connecting pieces, begins to acquire the status of institution.  No  personal blog can ever do that -- because (need I say it) all men are mortal.  Even Socrates -- had he blogged -- would have lost all his effectiveness -- because the unthinkers that he nagged would not have hit his blog.

NewsPoetry was an evolutionary step forward -- and its virtual death proves how hard it is, even for modest advance in well-being, to survive and thrive -- to become a part of the modifiable common memetic heritage of a better mankind.

Its death, perhaps, was foretold, in the structure of its authority passing, by a laying on of hands.  The capitalist markets, by contrast, say "that which is worthy to survive is anything that men will freely trade upon as objects that go between them" -- survival not being an objective aim of the market, but -- rather -- an accident, an artifact of the transactions.  Who, today, would buy a Beanie Baby, a Pet Rock, a California Raisin?

It does no good to opine about inherent values -- or to raise the standards of the highest art forms, appealing to Cezanne or Gaugin forms, to explain the differences in survival value in the forms -- to mock us with the refrain that pop art pops us and passes away.

It's not just the form, so much, my friends -- it's the rarity of the objects of the form.  You rather notice this when you go to the Art Framing places, and  see two hundred prints of Star, Starry Night.  That form begins to look about as attractive as a Pet Rock.

"what if they VERB1 a NOUN and nobody VERB2<?>"

Me?  I guess I'll stick to NewsPoetry -- bugging even more the ever fewer who read these missives -- and letting myself be bugged -- hoping to be bugged by you -- missing the more frequent buggings, for instance, of William, Newton B, Gavroche, Hubert, Futrelle, and so many others.

I'm waiting for the restoration, the resurrection to come, the redemption of the faithful -- who must believe despite the ever necessary lack of all reason to believe.