What a Great Economy!

On the Economy of Words (another installment in the Buckaroo Saga)

The single greatest transgression committed by teachers (besides fucking them) is telling students that English comprises eight parts of speech. So wrong. English has two parts of speech and six little helpers (interjections are bullshit, but that's a minor point). Perhaps if people realized this, they wouldn't engage in so much pointless drivel: twisted old trees covered with brown bark, tall skyscrapers, wrinkled old people, blue skies, dark nights (OK, maybe that one on a new moon).

Here's a little secret, Buckeroos. Follow me into the chamber where we make the sausage (it's OK, it's just a little prick). Come closer, let me whisper in your cute little mouselike ears (please remember—no hyphen in "mouselike"):

Every word counts. Every word matters. And every time you add a word, you dilute all the others. 

See that? My extra "the" (for example) just diluted the other words in that sentence.

Think of it this way. Let's say I am writing a book whose main thrust (so to speak) is the word, concept, and act "fuck." Now I surround that word with 100,000 other words that have nothing to do with "fuck." What have I done? I've made "fuck" inconsequential. So the lazy, ego-driven writers will say, "I can fix that shit. I'll just add 10,000 more instances of the word 'fuck.' " How 'bout you just write better?

Extend the reasoning to an entire book. Think about the core, the two parts of speech, subject and verb. What are you really trying to say? Are you describing trees, or are you telling the world about an assassin who was once a ballerina but now kills children for sport and riches? Trees likely have no place there. And your silly preoccupation with trees means two things: (1) every other word in your work has been diluted and (2) you need to get laid (ignore that part, young'uns).

That is all. Carry on with your bad selves, Buckaroos.