Don’t Do What I Say, Please

Jolly ho, readers! You like pirates? No? Well, you should be used to them by now. Seems that they landed here a couple hundred years ago and eventually traded in their leggings for suit pants. The other Pirates need all the love they can get after taking so many beatings.
But I’m off topic, and Why? Never had one. See title. Just typing away because I have time between shifts. Funny how they call it a shift for everybody, even if they person doesn’t shift at all for the entire eight hours.
Perhaps “sentence” is a more accurate term, or “stay,” or “period of servitude.” These terms suit my job much better. I don’t do the shuffle at work. I’m not a dance instructor. I find people what they want and do what other people tell me to do with a big, toothy grin. I’ll call it “the next act.”
Shakespeare called the world a stage. He could have been just flapping his gums. It does sound deep enough to be true, but I don’t agree….out of spite. All respect due to Old Bill, but some people took him too seriously, like the Englishman who took starlings from England to North America because he wanted the Western Hemisphere to have every bird mentioned by Shakespeare. Starlings rob the nests of other species like the Huns did to poor Belgium.
Maybe that’s why I’m doing this piece of shit post. To remind people that writers can inspire acts of great beauty and cruel stupidity, like the above-mentioned Junior Birdman. A good writer – no matter how humble – is aware of his or her power and often will push it to the limit just because they can. You may be thinking “Those smart-ass bastards, manipulating people into doing harm,” but remember, everyone is responsible for their own actions. If an author weren’t testing my limits I would sense their lack of effort and stop reading. If I did act on feelings gained from a fictional text and got arrested, well, I’m just stupid.
That goes for any kind of writing. I believe writing won the campaign for the current president. That and tight image control. Remember, readers, that busy people like the president have little time to craft speeches. They have more important shit to worry about than pretty words. That’s a writer’s job, part of which is to convince you to act upon your emotions. With political writing, however, the relationship becomes unclear. “He says he’s telling the truth.” Of course, and so do every one of my narrators.
Right now, the presidential speech writers are gazing at themselves in the mirror saying “Yes, you are a sexy bitch!” As much as anyone, they are a sword in the president’s sheaf, ready to behead naysayers with reason and eloquence. And if will work, every time like magic until people realize that the image of the president is a digital rendering fed through miles of wire, that his speech is crafted by writers no different than me (who wrote a story about a bacon craving canine – C’mon!), and his words are just electrical messages that brains recognize as “sounds.” Facts, on the other hand, really exist.
So, on behalf of all writers everywhere, I say: Don’t do what I tell you to do, please!

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