No letter to the editor penned by moi appeared in today's Post, so I suppose it will be Thursday. Since the house is scheduled to vote on a new version of the plan that day, anything after that point would make it completely un-appropos and pointless. Anyway, there's a little voice in my head saying that they're not going to publish it and just called me regarding it as a cruel lark. But as I am neither high nor a paranoid schizophrenic this voice is easily dismissed, and not an actual voice, just an idea that pops up every now and then. Anyhow, assuming it appears tomorrow I am looking forward to declaring to my friends and peers, "Today I had my second ever letter to the editor published in the Post-Dispatch--my first ever not to concern the naming of newborn elephants." Which is true. I wrote one after the St. Louis Zoo had a baby elephant fall out of one of their other elephants (I think that is how these things happen) and instead of soliciting name-suggestions from the public, as I thought would be appropriate, the elephant handlers made up their own list for the public to vote on. So I wrote a snide little letter of some fine snide prose about how elephant handlers may know what elephants eat and such things, but know nothing on the subject of naming, and wrote snidely of how all the names they had chosen were of middling aesthetic quality. All that snideness was supposed to be humorous, but probably three-fourths of anyone who ever read it didn't realize and just thought I was a finnicky, smart-ass bastard. I have that problem not infrequently, as I enjoy expressing sincere thoughts and opinions in an ironic fashion and expressing ironic thoughts and opinions in a sincere fashion. But that is at the same time a contradiction, and the very definition of irony. Maybe I did get high an hour or two ago and just forgot?
I won't keep typing self-indulgently. I will spare you a proper explication of this, but earlier in the day I was hitting a tennis ball against a basement wall and thinking about...you guessed it...the nature of postmodernism and its relationship to modernism. A cliche, I know. I will only reproduce this sample.
Modernism: irony and pity. Postmodernism: irony and sympathy.
Orange you glad I didn't keep typing?
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