In article <
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"matabala" <
[email protected]> writes:
>
> "Tom Keats" <
[email protected]> wrote in message
news:[email protected]...
>
>
>>
> diss'ing
>>
>
> diss'ing? Tom, please don't encourage the language mongrels. And with such a fine literary name...
Language is so wonderfully plastic. We can do with it what we will.
And we (thank goodness) do.
The eastern end of the Mediterranean Sea is an interesting place. It's the nexxus of several
different continents, and many different cultures. Dance plays a big role there. I opine that that's
because so many different cultures converged there, and a need to communicate arose, so people mimed
their expressions, and that mimery evolved into the sophisticated dance of the Greeks, Baltics,
Africans and Slavs. I figure instead of talking at each other, they all just danced at each other.
In many ways, it makes much more sense to gesticulate and demonstrate, than to gutteralize abstract
sounds that might be meaningless to the hearer.
Language, schmanguage. Talk is cheap.
Nevertheless, Alice Cooper is a wonderful master of American English.
I wish I had a copy of "Lost In America" to blow the roof off this house, right now. But I don't.
Maybe that's a good thing.
Hey -- M'iss'ippi Fred McDowell -- "Ah do not play no rock'n roll, y'all; Ah just play de straight,
natch'l blues." He said he let the guitar do the talking for him. I used to channel his spirit, and
I got to become a fairly good guitar player in the process, but his Victorian values got disgusted
with my hedonistic ways. But we did cough-up a killer cover of Jimmy Reed's "Big Boss Man" (Ya just
tawlk, that's awll). So, because of my immoral improprieties, I'm not allowed to even pick up a
guitar any more. But for awhile, I was a flat-assed, white-guy Robert Johnson. Now /there's/ a guy
who could wield language. His "Milk Cow Blues" is still such a heart-rending, plaintive plea. And
/nobody/ has ever been able to credibly cover that song, since. Maybe Rory Gallagher could've, but
as far as I know, he never attempted it. Robert Johnson's ghost is probably possessing some other
poor kid, now.
Language, schmanguage.
Anybody can say a bunch of razmatazz about Greek vases and St Agnes, or St Swithin, or Chapman's
translation of some somniferently tedious Readers' Digest story.
Language & communication is so much more than uttering verbiage. That's why we can so
completely ignore TV commercials. That's why I (or you, or anyone else) can say "diss'ing" and
get away with it.
The most eloquent talk I've ever heard has come from cats & dogs. They know what matters.
Words are highly overrated.
cheers, Tom
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