Even Lightning Rod has his faults and deficiencies. I disappoint myself frequently. Besides my failure at bi-sexuality which surely cost me a good half of the romantic opportunities I would otherwise have had in my life, one of my greatest shortcomings is not being multi-lingual. Oh, I took two years of Latin but unless I want to go to the Vatican and have a chat with the Pope or translate the odd Medieval manuscript, it’s not that useful in polite conversation. I speak the several Spanglish expressions that are required for survival in Texas and a few charming French phrases suitable for impressing young girls or those who are even less worldly than I, but English is the language in which I think.
It’s my good fortune that English is an elastic and growing language. I have an elastic and growing imagination. The great common mind of Man is elastic and growing. We call this common mind our culture and language is it’s carrier signal. Contemplating my uni-glot provincialism is not so depressing when I think of how rich English is in dialects. It is many languages really. There is proper English and Yankee and Aussie and Canuck English. There is Bronx English and Limey English. There is Patois and Pig Latin. We have organization talk and insider talk and tech talk in every profession and institution. We have Newspeak, Retrospeak, Geekspeak and Hatespeech which is the opposite of poetry. There is a dialect of abbreviations made for flirting on the internet and a language that only teenagers can understand composed of tattoos, dance steps and hand gestures and special tones of voice which can give 37 specific meanings to the English word Whatever.
Sarah Palin is inventing words now. She recently invented the word ‘refutiate.’ It sounds like a good enough word when said in a mock-populist drawl. I suppose it is an odd contraction of ‘refute’ and ‘repudiate’ and it sounds at least as kosher as ‘misunderestimate’ or ‘normalcy’ which is an official word now through usage but was once properly spoken as ‘normality’ before Warren Harding or somebody misuttered it. See, I just invented a word myself. I do it all the time. It’s the province of poets and politicians. Sarah sez if Shakespeare can do it, so can she. You go girl. Invent your own language.
The people who invent the language define the conversation. This is why Sarah Palin is such a package of pure political power, she is inventing the language and thus the agenda. Her simplistic, hair-brained and stupid little homilies are powerful memes. They go straight for the emotional jugular, they don’t require thought to work. If you think about what she is saying, you have to ask yourself, ‘what is this ditz talking about?’ It has no factual or instructional relevance whatever. She’s pretty and spunky and feisty in her Mary Kay sort of way but nothing in her carefully compiled cycle of cliches offers sense or solution. It’s just one gag-line after another. She is like one of those dolls with the ring on her neck and a little record inside that says things like, Mean ol’ Mainstream Press and We’re Takin’ Back Our Country, you betcha, when you pull her string. The Poet’s Eye sees Sarah Palin as the perfect leader really, if you are talking about leading a Brownie troop. She is even less equipped to make policy and decisions than G.W. Bush who couldn’t even run a losing baseball team. But she is the very picture of the perfect modern Republican president, just the kind that the oligarchs love, one who will leave policy and power decisions to those who really know what they are doing, Them.
The Poet’s Eye doesn’t know a word in any language nor could I invent one to describe the horror I would feel if Sarah Palin were elected President of the United States. She is MILF sexy and would probably be great fun at a party after about six jelly shots but the thought of Sarah of Alaska running our country with Her brain would make me multi-lingual at last because I would be speaking in tongues.
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, action nor utterance, nor the power of speech, to stir men’s blood. I only speak right on. I tell you that which you yourselves do know. — W. Shakespeare