I am, apparently, an arrogant, intellectual elitist. Why, you might ask. Because I am about to defend the English language. A language that has been evolving for hundreds of years, and has developed rules and structures that help to clarify communication. This structure is under attack by ignorance.
Fatty's recent post on the front page was an affront to grammar, spelling, and thought in general. I read the whole thing, and felt like I understood what he was trying to say, but it was choppy and so poorly written that I feel it detracts from the quality that was apparent on this site (Dave and Ben, you can do better). But that is only the tip of the iceberg.
The comments from that post are, generally, a maelstorm of positive critiques. People were trying to be polite. But another member of this site, maid tu rek, takes these critiques as personal attacks against his way of life
for people that “CAN’T” read this, its one of two problems. either your an arregant ellitest, or your suffering from a saveer lack of criticle thinking skills, which would really leave you unfit for procreation. i suspect that hear on this board, the inability to read fatty is better explained by a candie coated lifestyle expirence.
Having read this comment, I was able to ascertain a few things about myself that I had been previously unaware of: I am not only unfit for procreation (which he spelled properly, weird), but I also live a candy-coated lifestyle experience (really, that is the best insult you could come up with?, and I can't even figure out a way to make a coherent sentence out of that).
Having lived in Portland my entire life, you might assume that I don't realize what a bastion this city is culturally, intellectually, and even physically. But I have traveled extensively (part of my candy-coated lifestyle experience), and there is no where else I would rather live (at least in the USA).
This is Mecca. Portland is home to the Trail Blazers, and if that isn't enough we also have great beer (real beer, not that crap they make in the midwest, or that other crap they make in New England and that they try to call real beer), the great outdoors (I could go snowboarding and surfing in the same day. Where else can you do that? I'll tell you, Lebanon, but I'm allergic to bombs (It's ok, I can say that because I am Lebanese). And we also have rivers and lakes and waterfalls and forests and deserts and buttes and bluffs and parks (were you aware that Forest Park is the largest park in the USA within a city limits?) and then even more of all of those things), and the greatest bookstore in the whole wide world (no, I'm not talking about the Barnes and Noble in the Lloyd Center. I'm talking about Powell's Books, which is like its own little mecca within the whole mecca that is Portland. Sort of a microcosm if you will).
But my life hasn't been a candy-coated lifestyle experience (at least I don't think so, but I'm still a little unclear on what that means). I was the geeky kid that everyone made fun of. I had issues with learning (ADD and dyslexia can't hold me back). I had a really bad temper. I got jumped in my own front yard. I got bullied. I got rejected by girls. I grew up in a family where all of the money went towards education because my parents understood the importance of knowledge. My parents made me read.
How did they make me read? They locked our television in their closet. The only thing I watched as a child was Sesame Street and Blazer games (at least they got that right). At first I fought this forced reading, but eventually I succumbed to the joy of knowledge. I think Jack London was the one who got me (Damn you, Buck! Damn you, White Fang), but I was soon reading books like normal kids watch cartoons (I love cartoons, too. I used to try to spend the night at my best friend's house on Friday night so I could watch Saturday morning cartoons, or just head over there after school to catch my favorite cartoon, Darkwing Duck (hilarious, and intelligent)).
So I am an arrogant elitist because my parents wouldn't let me watch TV? Or maybe your calling my parents arrogant elitists (take it back. I SAID TAKE IT BACK! My mother is a saint) for sharing the joy of education with me. But if I'm not an arrogant elitist that means I am unfit to procreate. Wait, what? How does that make any sense?
In a follow-up comment, maid tu rek also proclaimed that the main problem with people like me is that we are offended by people who attack our privileged lifestyle. The reason this offends me is not because it attacks my privileged lifestyle, but because this is pure ignorance, ignorance based on laziness. You are justifying the comments of everyone who says "I don't read" and "I'll just watch the movie." Those are the same people who say "Would you like fries with that?"
I don't think maid tu rek is an idiot, in fact I think he is an intelligent, thoughtful poster who thinks that he is "bucking the system" and "sticking it to the Man" by refusing to conform to the normative structure of language. But the Man doesn't force language on us. Language is a gift. It allows us to communicate on another level. It allows us to express ourselves in anger and love.
More importantly, it allows us to discuss the merits of the Portland Trail Blazers, and why I feel that the missing piece for this team is Carl Landry. And that Outlaw should not be vilified but exhaulted for his unabashed style of play. And how Pryzbilla is the epitome of a work horse and the backbone of this team. How Channing Frye should retire and become the youngest Blazer's assistant coach ever just because he's fun to have around. These are the important things that need to be discussed.
Dave, Ben, if you are going to continue to post articles by Fatty, I implore you to edit them first. And if you don't have the time or fortitude to do so, I am sure we could find someone willing to take on this task (12sharks for instance), for all our sakes.
I would like to inset a haiku:
Outlaw, dribble drive
Portland, we have lift off. Oh
geez, not again. SWISH!
And finally in the vein of tominhawaii, I will insert a whimsical pole. Er, I mean poll. Shout out to all my peoples, especially Bukowski and David Foster Wallace. May they rest in peace. And to everyone working at Casa Diablo because that could only happen in Portland.