*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 unholy trinity of the word, concept of, and act of "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, the 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 last part, young'uns):
That is all. Carry on with your bad selves, Buckaroos
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 unholy trinity of the word, concept of, and act of "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, the 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 last part, young'uns):
That is all. Carry on with your bad selves, Buckaroos
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