Wednesday, July 29, 2009

The Hypo-reaction

I have been brainstorming how to start this entry, and i had a couple of idearz. One was:

You know those moments when you remember something you said or did and just cringe?

Then i thought, wow. That would be a impressively douchy "lede">>>as is said in the editorial world PAHA.

Which got me on the train of thinking about hypothetical questions in general, especially that sucker that i may have employed had i left my snark filter in the shower (i just showered, fyi) and OMJWG(oh my jehovas witness' God) hypo questions suuuckkkk.

A hypothetical question (h.q. from this point onward, to lessen the annoyance of repetition) is, by my grade school definition, a question that is not meant to be answered. Then i was like, okay, well what is a question? And to be honest, i was too lazy to drum out an answer, so i'ed it. And for our intents and purposes of talking shitte on the h.q., i learned that:


a sentence in an interrogative form, addressed to someone in order to get information in reply.

Then i thought, well im on the website, why not go crazy. ALSO learning:

hy·po·thet·i·cal question/"hI-p&-'the-ti-k&l/ : a question directed to an expert witness (as a physician) that is based on the existence of facts offered in evidence and the answer to which is an opinion to be considered in light of the evidence NOTE: Modern rules of evidence have lessened the need for a hypothetical question setting forth all of the facts to be assumed in answering the question. An expert witness may state an opinion based on data or facts considered reliable in his or her field even if not already disclosed or not admissible as evidence.


Okay, well, the hq i am thinking of is the one slipped into the middle of a T.S. Eliot essay, "If life is meaningless, then what is death?" or "Have you ever wondered if there was more to life, other than being really, really, ridiculously good looking? " or "So I'm rappelling down Mount Vesuvius when suddenly I slip, and I start to fall. Just falling, ahh ahh, I'll never forget the terror. When suddenly I realize "Holy shit, Hansel, haven't you been smoking Peyote for six straight days, and couldn't some of this maybe be in your head?"

H.q.s are such a vapid, narcissistic excuse for a sentence that could be used to deftly drive the point that all the other previous painstakingly constructed sentences were waiting for. It's like each hopeful, sweating little guy is there, holding his place firmly in the paragraph, waiting for that concluding bit that will make all his multiple, semi-coloned dependent clauses worth it. Whispering feverishly to the brain power that holds his fate in their trembling, overcaffinated fingers...

Oh! Don't muck it up (supporting evidence is English?)

And then, much to the dismay of the poor bastard the "writer" takes a deep inhale of something with tobacco , exhaling an ohhhh, I've got it now, and, believe it or not, at the same time, extolling, with his sudden surge of genius, something akin to the meaningless nature of:

"Did you ever see that "Twilight Zone" where the guy signed a contract and they cut out his tongue and put it in a jar and it wouldn't die, it just grew and pulsated and gave birth to baby tongues?"

NO! i didn't see that one Garth! Because what you're saying or rather NOT SAYING has nothing to do with all the hard work you did the seven sentences before that. Also, its cocky! I'm not going to telll you what i mean, I am just going to let you simmer on that sexy thought-provoking thing i just said...while i go look in the mirror, perhaps ask my reflection the same thing....brb...self...what is Love? Also its lazy! Instead of taking the head hurting time to correctly identify just what should be articulated as the final point, I'm going to throw you a curve ball. Just try and figure out what i mean now, bitch.

NO! we are not your bitches, we are the readers. We are the people YOU are trying to WIN OVER, not piss off. This is not literary I spy, no one is going to play a game because you are too a)stupid b)lazy c)cocky to force your pudgy yet weirdly thin self to write coherently.

So "writers," paper do-ers, readers, philosophical conversationalists, (the only genre of people i shall exclude are those who are 'medicating') bloggers, speakers, PEOPLE OF THE WORLD think twice to thrice times before whipping out an hq. They suck, and your argument or entire being really, will suck so much less if you steer as clear of these affronts to intelligence as fervently as you can.

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