From Formication to Fulmination

“At the beginning of the day, I am a killer, savaging the formic breed. At the end, I fear being killed, torn apart by the 20,000 to 50,000 amperes of current released in many cloud-to-ground strikes.” Sanford Rose 

Dolors & Sense

by Sanford Rose

KISSIMMEE Florida—(Weekly Hubris)—9/17/2012—That’s an “m” not an “n.” I’m not that sort of writer.

The journey describes my working day.

At 5 a.m., I begin by watching central Florida’s ants swarm in my bathroom.

At 5 p.m., I end by watching central Florida’s lightning creep closer to my house.

At the beginning of the day, I am a killer, savaging the formic breed. At the end, I fear being killed, torn apart by the 20,000 to 50,000 amperes of current released in many cloud-to-ground strikes.

Between the time of pouncing and cowering, I mostly work with words, trying not to maim or push them around.

I leave that, I hope, to others.

Recently, for example, I received a survey that requested my opinion and then thanked me in advance for “sharing my feedback.”

But, I thought, if I feed back something, then I can no longer partake of the surrendered sustenance. Like a wild dog regurgitating a kill, I am nourishing others, not myself. How, pray tell, can I share that which I no longer possess?

Why, I ask, do we indulge in such outrageous fustian? Would the writer of such drivel get fired or forgo a pay raise if she/he simply thanked me for giving my opinion, not . . . sharing my feedback?

Perhaps not. But she would probably feel less important. And she may also feel that I would count myself less important for being asked simply to give an opinion, not share feedback.

Most corporate and government communications exhibit a flaccidity of expression that betokens not so much a flaccidity of thought as its dearth.

Such communications are like a metaphorical arm around the shoulder.

“Look,” say the faux communicators, “we have nothing really to tell you but we will inflate our language sufficiently to make us both feel good.”

But are we so easily gratified? I think not.

Most people are disgusted with this cloying and empty politesse.

I love to embroider my sentences. But I flatter myself that it is for some purpose, if just to delight the ear.

The circumlocution of which I speak neither pleases the ear nor nourishes the mind.

It just grates. And no one should be paid for adding to the sum of societal irritation.

But perhaps I’m just being self-indulgent, trying with the piping and weak fulminations of a has-been wordsmith somehow to rival the tonitruous ones that regularly terrify me at day’s end.