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Irrelevance and Definitional Geezer-dom
Jul. 5th, 2019 09:38 amMore shenanigans with yet another idiot client.
This one wanted a piece on gluten-free dining adventures.
Zzzzzzzz…
I banged out a sprightly yet informative piece and an hour later, he sends me a critique: Grammerly says this has got filler and grammar errors. I rewrote it! you need to add 300 words…
There were no grammar errors in the piece I wrote.
I don’t make grammar errors when I write for idiot clients.
I make grammar errors when I write for my own amusement! They’re intentional and designed to offset my affection for big archaic words. It’s a style tic.
The piece he sent me was riddled with inane mistakes that a smart 9th grader wouldn’t make: subject-verb disagreements, dangling modifiers.
I wanted to tell the idiot client, Fuck you! It was pretty obvious this was his particular power trip: I’m the writer! If only I had the time…
But the coffers need to be filled and right now, Scut Factory pickings are slim. So, I gave the asshole what he wanted.
Simon Winchester attributes a great deal of the dumbing down of the English language to the dictionary that’s included with Microsoft Word.
AI programs like Grammerly will finish off the job.
Literary powers are not born out of algorithms but out of thought and passion.
I had a hard time falling asleep.
###
Of course, I’ve known I’m obsolete for quite some time now.
A priestess in the service of the dead god, Language.
Nobody reads anymore.
So, the one thing I’m good at is entirely irrelevant.
###
I’m kinda glad I’ll be dead on March 2, 2034. Who wants to live in a world where the individual’s only value is as a kind of mini-mine of primary emotions to be exploited by marketers and guided by AI pilots?
I guess that makes me officially an Old Geezer, right?
The defining characteristic of an Old Geezer is that they go around saying, Things were so much better back then.
###
In other news, it was very, very hot yesterday. Local bank thermometer was flashing 98°. Probably a good thing we didn’t march in the parade since I would have collapsed with heat stroke.
I tried to get Adrienne interested in going out to watch the fireworks display.
“Don’t you want to see the rockets red blare foremost bursting in air giving proof to the night that our flag is still there?” I cooed.
She laughed. “I’m going to barricade myself in my bedroom and think subversive thoughts. Thanks though!”
It’s off to the reeducation camp for Adrienne.
BB, whom I picked up at the train station, was much too exhausted after a trans-Atlantic flight from Switzerland and various transportation relays between JFK and his car for any pyrotechnic high jinks.
So I stayed in and brooded. Watched Good Behavior. Lady Mary as an unrepentant bad girl in North Carolina. She is really good in the role. And the male lead is hot, hot, hot.
This one wanted a piece on gluten-free dining adventures.
Zzzzzzzz…
I banged out a sprightly yet informative piece and an hour later, he sends me a critique: Grammerly says this has got filler and grammar errors. I rewrote it! you need to add 300 words…
There were no grammar errors in the piece I wrote.
I don’t make grammar errors when I write for idiot clients.
I make grammar errors when I write for my own amusement! They’re intentional and designed to offset my affection for big archaic words. It’s a style tic.
The piece he sent me was riddled with inane mistakes that a smart 9th grader wouldn’t make: subject-verb disagreements, dangling modifiers.
I wanted to tell the idiot client, Fuck you! It was pretty obvious this was his particular power trip: I’m the writer! If only I had the time…
But the coffers need to be filled and right now, Scut Factory pickings are slim. So, I gave the asshole what he wanted.
Simon Winchester attributes a great deal of the dumbing down of the English language to the dictionary that’s included with Microsoft Word.
AI programs like Grammerly will finish off the job.
Literary powers are not born out of algorithms but out of thought and passion.
I had a hard time falling asleep.
###
Of course, I’ve known I’m obsolete for quite some time now.
A priestess in the service of the dead god, Language.
Nobody reads anymore.
So, the one thing I’m good at is entirely irrelevant.
###
I’m kinda glad I’ll be dead on March 2, 2034. Who wants to live in a world where the individual’s only value is as a kind of mini-mine of primary emotions to be exploited by marketers and guided by AI pilots?
I guess that makes me officially an Old Geezer, right?
The defining characteristic of an Old Geezer is that they go around saying, Things were so much better back then.
###
In other news, it was very, very hot yesterday. Local bank thermometer was flashing 98°. Probably a good thing we didn’t march in the parade since I would have collapsed with heat stroke.
I tried to get Adrienne interested in going out to watch the fireworks display.
“Don’t you want to see the rockets red blare foremost bursting in air giving proof to the night that our flag is still there?” I cooed.
She laughed. “I’m going to barricade myself in my bedroom and think subversive thoughts. Thanks though!”
It’s off to the reeducation camp for Adrienne.
BB, whom I picked up at the train station, was much too exhausted after a trans-Atlantic flight from Switzerland and various transportation relays between JFK and his car for any pyrotechnic high jinks.
So I stayed in and brooded. Watched Good Behavior. Lady Mary as an unrepentant bad girl in North Carolina. She is really good in the role. And the male lead is hot, hot, hot.
