Anyway, I don’t think I’m going to tour again for a long, long time. Not unless I can beam myself to the various destinations. When some sort of transporter device has been invented, tested, and sold to the public, I’ll go on tour again. I’m thinking maybe early spring 2086.
a scientific treatise regarding a matter of great entomological concern to all of us
What is it with bees?
its just an expression
The other day I had an epiphany while eating a bag of potato chips. The bag was so full of air, I had to burst it like a balloon to get it open, and inside were only five or six measly freeze-dried spud slivers. It got me thinking how people fill conversations with trite expressions and phrases, creating the illusion they’ve said something significant, just like a deceptively puffed-up bag of chips.
Well, not really. What actually occurred to me was that snack food is a huge rip-off, but that’s beside the point.
My point is … and I do have one (which, by the way, was the name of my last book—if you haven’t read it, you really should, but please finish this one first) is that we no longer say what we mean or mean what we say. Do we honestly think that interjecting “Every dog has its day” or replying with “Is that so?” contributes to the conversation? No, all it does is prolong the meeting, party, or intervention, cutting into time that could be better spent at home zoning out in front of the television.
Take this overused phrase: “Honesty is the best policy.” Is it? Honesty is good, yes, but not always. Up to a certain point you should be honest, but just imagine if we were all honest all the time. The world would be terrible. It would be a cold, cruel place.
“Gosh, Sarah. Have you gained a lot of weight, or what? You’re so puffy.”
“Boy oh boy, that breath of yours is something else. I’m about to pass out. Seriously, that has to be the worst breath ever.
“Has your ass always been that flat or am I just noticing it now for the first time?”
I’ll tell you what’s really bad—going up to your friend whom you haven’t seen in a while and saying, “Oh my God, you’re pregnant!” and they’re not. I’ve done that, and I’ll tell you—the look on his face! He looked at me blankly and said, “As far as I know, men can’t have babies.”
I tried to cover, but it was no use. “Oh, I thought I read somewhere they can.”
How many people can honestly say they’re completely honest? Not too many. That’s why people have to put their hand on a Bible and take an oath to testify in court. Everyone just assumes that people lie. We have to say “I swear to God” or “I swear on my mother’s life, may God strike me dead!” if we really want to be believed.
I really never lie. I don’t—I swear to God. (Like you have to—like God doesn’t know the truth!) I must admit, though, I do lie to my Lifecycle. I lie right to its control panel. It says, “Enter program/fitness.” I push ENTER . Then it says “age” and I punch in “35,” and I push ENTER . I don’t want the machine to give me a workout for a forty-five-year-old.
We want to believe people are being honest when they announce, “I have something important to say.” I know I do, because I use it as a cue to turn on my hidden tape recorder. It’s quite a clever ruse, actually, because if instead they told the truth and declared, “I have something to say that’s so dull, so tedious, it’ll make you wish you didn’t have ears,” who’d listen?
When it comes to clear communication, these useless phrases, expressions, and cliches aren’t really up to snuff. Whatever that means. Let’s just say that people say a lot of things that are ridiculous.
For some reason, when people try to cheer you up or point out that things could be worse, they say all sorts of stupid stuff. This is one somebody told me: “I felt sorry for myself because I had no shoes, until I met a man with no feet.” Um, okay, what
a scientific treatise regarding a matter of great entomological concern to all of us
What is it with bees?
its just an expression
The other day I had an epiphany while eating a bag of potato chips. The bag was so full of air, I had to burst it like a balloon to get it open, and inside were only five or six measly freeze-dried spud slivers. It got me thinking how people fill conversations with trite expressions and phrases, creating the illusion they’ve said something significant, just like a deceptively puffed-up bag of chips.
Well, not really. What actually occurred to me was that snack food is a huge rip-off, but that’s beside the point.
My point is … and I do have one (which, by the way, was the name of my last book—if you haven’t read it, you really should, but please finish this one first) is that we no longer say what we mean or mean what we say. Do we honestly think that interjecting “Every dog has its day” or replying with “Is that so?” contributes to the conversation? No, all it does is prolong the meeting, party, or intervention, cutting into time that could be better spent at home zoning out in front of the television.
Take this overused phrase: “Honesty is the best policy.” Is it? Honesty is good, yes, but not always. Up to a certain point you should be honest, but just imagine if we were all honest all the time. The world would be terrible. It would be a cold, cruel place.
“Gosh, Sarah. Have you gained a lot of weight, or what? You’re so puffy.”
“Boy oh boy, that breath of yours is something else. I’m about to pass out. Seriously, that has to be the worst breath ever.
“Has your ass always been that flat or am I just noticing it now for the first time?”
I’ll tell you what’s really bad—going up to your friend whom you haven’t seen in a while and saying, “Oh my God, you’re pregnant!” and they’re not. I’ve done that, and I’ll tell you—the look on his face! He looked at me blankly and said, “As far as I know, men can’t have babies.”
I tried to cover, but it was no use. “Oh, I thought I read somewhere they can.”
How many people can honestly say they’re completely honest? Not too many. That’s why people have to put their hand on a Bible and take an oath to testify in court. Everyone just assumes that people lie. We have to say “I swear to God” or “I swear on my mother’s life, may God strike me dead!” if we really want to be believed.
I really never lie. I don’t—I swear to God. (Like you have to—like God doesn’t know the truth!) I must admit, though, I do lie to my Lifecycle. I lie right to its control panel. It says, “Enter program/fitness.” I push ENTER . Then it says “age” and I punch in “35,” and I push ENTER . I don’t want the machine to give me a workout for a forty-five-year-old.
We want to believe people are being honest when they announce, “I have something important to say.” I know I do, because I use it as a cue to turn on my hidden tape recorder. It’s quite a clever ruse, actually, because if instead they told the truth and declared, “I have something to say that’s so dull, so tedious, it’ll make you wish you didn’t have ears,” who’d listen?
When it comes to clear communication, these useless phrases, expressions, and cliches aren’t really up to snuff. Whatever that means. Let’s just say that people say a lot of things that are ridiculous.
For some reason, when people try to cheer you up or point out that things could be worse, they say all sorts of stupid stuff. This is one somebody told me: “I felt sorry for myself because I had no shoes, until I met a man with no feet.” Um, okay, what
Similar Books
