Sdtrk: ‘Chelsea’ by Hiem

Allow me to open with an anecdote: a couple of weeks ago, I saw a general practitioner for the first time in about four years. After seeing how tall I am (5’7″ — all these years you thought I was lying, Monti, but now I have proof) and weighing me (124 lbs), he chuckled and asked, ‘Have you always been skinny?’ ‘I think this would be the most I’ve ever weighed,’ I replied. True story!

If I had my way, my diet would be almost exactly like Andy Warhol’s: basically living on pills. On the other hand, I don’t want to die like Elvis: the autopsy found that his faeces was white (‘were white’?), due to the vast amount of prescription drugs he was gobbling. Alternatively, I’d subsist almost entirely on Japanese cuisine, as it’s both healthy and Magickally Delicious, but unfortunately, it’s also a bit pricey, and I can’t cook worth a damn. Eating is such a bloody hassle sometimes, but until the day when they develop entire meals in capsule form, it has to be done like everyone else…
Over the years, there have been a few remarkable items of food and drink that stand out due to their deliciousness. Unfortunately, we live in a society where uniqueness is undervalued. Come with me, then, as I show you my tribute to some of my favourite obsolete foods…

Dr pepper Red fusion

Anyone who knows me on any level past ‘acquaintance’ knows I’m almost never seen without a Dr pepper in one hand. The other hand’s usually grasping a Liston knife, but that’s irrelevant at the moment. When Dr pepper announced their ‘Red fusion’ variant back in 2002, I found it to not only be a satisfying beverage, but actually a couple of degrees better than regular Dr pepper. The main factor, I think, was that it wasn’t as ‘heavy’ as your bog-standard colas. Plus, I loved that name — ‘Red fusion’. It always puts me in mind of Red Impulse, that bloke from ‘Gatchaman’. No idea what exactly he did, as I didn’t watch the show (‘Battle of the Planets’ just barely counts) but I love that name. Perhaps he filed an ill-advised lawsuit over the name Red fusion and somehow won, which might explain why the drink no longer exists.

Mr Green

Modern tea merchants SoBe came up with a soft drink infused with guarana, ginseng, and some other pseudo-exotic crap, called Mr Green. True to form, the label sported an extreme lizard astride a bike doing a lip trick off a giant human skull into a burning vagina. Ahh, marketing. Despite its 18 – 25 year old kerb squirrel demographic, it was a fine beverage. It was kind of a tarnished copper colour, which appeared darker in its bottle of dark green plastic, and it had kind of a spicy taste to it. Very unique, which is of course the precise reason why it didn’t last too long…

Cappio

Before Frappucinos walked the earth, there was a bottled iced cappucino drink — which was unheard of in the States way back in the heady days of the late Nineties — called Cappio. The adverts featured a lean beatnik lass on a scooter, animated in a rather Fiftiesy style; plus, the beverage was like 60% cream, 60% sugar, and 20% coffee, all poured into a slim and sexy bottle, so of course I was hooked.
Oddly enough, I don’t drink Frappucinos… I just never got round to it. To be honest, I’m more inclined to knock back a stout can of UCC Canned coffee. Lovely stuff. Granted, unlike Frappuccino, it’s not sold everywhere, but at least I know where I stand with UCC…

Pepsi free

I have fond memories of drinking this back in the early Eighties. Well, I have memories. But I do recall really enjoying Pepsi free, for some bizarre reason. The thing that’s especially ironic about this, though, is that I loathe regular Pepsi — I would rather drink fermented tramp’s piss than have a Pepsi*. Honestly, I can’t imagine buying it these days, as the ‘Free’ meant it was caffeine free. That’s like drinking non-alcoholic beer; what’s the bloody point?

Frosted Rice chex Juniors

Monti and I were addicted to these during their brief run in the mid-Nineties. Picture, if you will, squares of Rice chex, half the size of regular Chex, that were literally encrusted with sugary frosting. We’d eat them dry right out of the box, and we’d temporarily aquire the ability of seeing through Time itself. We witnessed the Lincoln assassination! It was pretty wild.
I’m inclined to believe that parents and guardians probably lobbied to get that cereal pulled off the shelves, after seeing so many of their children covering their walls one postage stamp at a time, or running up the length of a twelve-storey building, or listening to rave music, or simply vibrating and frothing at the mouth. It had a brief run, but a good run.

Mountain dew MDX

Yes, another extreme soda; I’m sure you’ve sussed that the ‘X’ stands for ‘extreme’. Despite that silliness, MDX was rather ace for two reasons:
1) it was in my favourite shade of green. To be honest, it looked radioactive, and
2) it was an energy drink that didn’t taste like dog’s milk. Apart from MDX, I’ve never been able to find an energy drink that didn’t make me wish I was dead two sips in.
My brief affair with MDX came to a rapid halt, as just after I began drinking it, I came down with a serious bout of acid reflux, and I blamed the drink’s strange and curious ingredients. By the time my illness subsided, I decided to give the soda one more go to see if it really was to blame, but by that time, it was no longer being sold. C’est la vie…

Mint 3 Musketeers

Might as well add them to the list, as I’m fairly certain they’ll be yanked unceremoniously off the market in six months’ time. Imagine, if you will, a 3 Musketeers bar scientifically crossbred with a York Peppermint Patty. Instead of one slab-of-nougat-coated-in-milk-chocolate, you get two half-sized bars in a slightly smaller wrapper, with each bar covered in dark chocolate and filled with mint… nougat? I’ve no idea what it is, but it’s truly dericious. I really should see about bulk prices, so I can stock up now before the Mint 3 Muskepocalypse inevitably occurs…

So there you have it! I think I missed a couple — I was racking my brains trying to think of this one brand of potato chip that I used to love, and came up trumps — but you get the idea.
It’s shameful, though. We live in a world where Mr Green is off the market, but you can find that atrocity known as the Mallo cup everywhere? It makes no sense

*N.B. an exaggeration. Please do not offer me a pint jar of tramp’s piss

Sdtrk: ‘You made a fool of me’ by Doris

It’s 19 July again! Astute / lucid / vaguely awake readers of ‘Shouting etc etc’ will recognise that date as being the three-year anniversary of this godforsaken site. It’s true! From its humble beginnings on Blogger, to the high-tech bleeding-edge WordPress cyber-website you see before you, I’ve frankly no idea how I’ve been able to keep this up for three years, much less three months. Truly, a Mystery to Everyone Involved. But all those posts on Dolls and Gynoids certainly don’t hurt, though.
Before the move was made to WordPress in December of last year, regular readers endured enjoyed the blog’s tagline, which was changed every week. The previous two anniversary posts listed and explained a number of them, which naturally means that this post will detail the final set. Are you sitting comfortably? Good! Then let’s begin…

+ + + + + + + + + + + +

+ Sorry, I’ve eaten my hostage
If I’m not mistaken, I stole this from Monti. Or it could simply be ripped from the pages of real life

+ Hidden Valley Ranch, built on Pepperidge Farm, in the land of Dairy Queen
And on that ranch stands a gleaming White Castle; home to the Burger King, Hardee McDonald, and his wife, Wendy. When they’re not playing Checkers with their Big Boy Arby, they’re usually holding Rally’s (sic). Or they… err… Steak & Shake… Taco bell… I’ve run out of steam. But perhaps it’s for the best

+ Spring into Performance Fleece!
Normally, the catchphrase of the (poisonous) hero of Butter Dimension³, Topato Potato, is ‘Spring into Action!’ However, for one instalment of Jeff Rowland’s WIGU, he and his partner-in-sort-of-crimefighting Sheriff Pony decided to drop by Old Navy, as Topato thought his cape was starting to be unfashionable. So he instead donned a stylish half-zip pullover, and Sheriff Pony shouted the phrase adopted above. It’s pretty catchy! It ranks up there with ‘MECHA-SHIVA! MECHA-SHIVA!’ and ‘As a youth, I used to weep in butcher shops’

+ ‘This is truly the golden age’
If I’m not mistaken, I stole this from some forum or other. Can’t remember the context, but I know it was being used sarcastically

+ ‘If there are any gods whose chief concern is man, they can’t be very important gods’
A grand quote, attributed to Arthur C. Clarke

+ Shoes and strings and ponies and things
Sing that in a jaunty Lawrence-Welk-backing-singers kinda style, and it’ll make more sense

+ Who can I turn to stereo?
one of the fantastically Surrealist titles from the brain of audio collage manipulator Steven Stapleton, aka Nurse with wound. Other fave titles include ‘Astral dustbin dirge’, ‘Brained by falling masonry’, ‘Stick that chick and feel my steel through your last meal’, ‘Dream of a butterfly inside the skull of a horse’, and ‘Monument to Perez Prado’

+ ‘Next day’s function, high-class luncheon / Food is served, and you’re stone-cold munchin”
From Young MC’s ‘Bust a move’, one of the few rap songs I like. I love the imagery that line presents: you’re standing there at the buffet table, eating as much food as you can with both hands, little fragments of soda cracker launching from your overstuffed gob as you make a half-arsed attempt to greet any nearby guests. ‘Man, have you tried these Vienna sausages? They’re great!’ you say, but it sounds nothing like English as it’s filtered through a mush of masticated canapés, which is a sight that causes the guests to leave hastily. You’re basically eating with such speed, ferocity, and vehemence that you no longer give a shit about manners, propriety, or the fact that you’ve got several blotchy stains on your shirt front. This, then, would be ‘stone cold munchin’’

+ Sorry, did I draw blood again?
I think I might’ve nicked this one from Monti as well… it sounds like something she would’ve come up with

+ ‘I was in the state I’m normally in, which is, “I just can’t write. I can’t think of anything!” Someone said, “Just write that.” And I realised it’s true. The second you start writing about anything, you can write.’
Some rather good writing advice from Jennifer Saunders, the comic genius behind ‘Absolutely fabulous’, circa 2001

+ ‘First they came for the verbs, and I said nothing because verbing weirds language. Then they arrival for the nouns, and I speech nothing because I no verbs.’
A quote from Peter Ellis. It’s really remarkable, as you can actually see the sentence decaying in front of you

+ DIVIDING BY ZERO: it builds character
from 4chan: one of the running memes was a picture of a blackhole, with the caption ‘I divided by zero! OH SHI -‘. Someone went one better and created the phrase you see before you

+ ‘I’m Marvin Gaye, shot by my own father’
Long story behind this’un. I’ll just leave it at this: it’s a line written by brilliantly insidious media shit-disturber Chris Morris, from an episode of Brass Eye

+ WTF IS RINGO DOING HE’S JUST SITTING THERE
On YouTube, someone had uploaded a video clip of the Beatles from the mid-Sixties, which was from a television special or similar, and it featured the world’s favourite wacky Scousers sitting on a plank supported by two sawhorses. They sat astride the plank, facing the camera, and singing one of their hits. John and George had their guitars, and Paul had his bass, and all of them were lip-syncing, apart from Ringo, who was sat behind them all, holding up a parasol for the length of the song. The tagline came verbatim from some random individual’s comment. Brilliant

+ Yeah, let’s don’t learn Chinese but say we did.
Sound advice!

+ ‘Writers are the most masturbatory of creatures. Ask any writer — they’re like monkeys.’
Anthony Burgess, hitting the nail on the head once again

+ Message in a bottle, on the deck of a ship that is also in a bottle
How very… meta. Rather like this charming picture I happen to have of Mahoro.

Infinite recursion? Don’t mind if I do!

+ ‘You’re such a wonderful person / But you got problems’
I know quite a few people that fit that description! From ‘Breaking glass’, off David Bowie’s album Low

+ Soup that makes its own gravy
ALEX TREBEK: ‘I also would’ve accepted “Soup that eats like a wheel”‘

+ If this were my last tagline here, what would I say?

+ + + + + + + + + + + +

With the way the new site is laid out, having taglines would make the banner double awkward, so I do at times miss bringing something new to that particular table. But on the other hand, that’s one less thing I have to keep track of!…

As always, I would like to convey an immense Thank you to all of the readers of ‘Shouting to hear the echoes’, whether you’re a regular round these parts (you know who you are), or just popping round for a post or two. Or rooting through the ‘RealDolls & other “love dolls”‘ category, which seems to be the trend lately. Nevertheless! Here’s to another year, then! *dinks glass*

Sdtrk: ‘Mass riff’ by Stereolab

Finally: a name worthy of a Benny Hill character.

*chortle chortle*
She didn’t pick up. Which was disappointing, as I’d really wanted to reply to any and all statements she made with a saucy ‘Ooh matron!’
And another heartwarming scene from my workplace…

ME: Hi, I’m Dave [horrid last name], calling from [Blazing Shithole Industries]. How are ya this afternoon?
AGEING TOSSER: I just got back from the doctor.
ME: Heh, is that Good or Bad?
AGEING TOSSER: Good and bad.
ME: A little bit of both, eh?
AGEING TOSSER: I have to go change my clothes; I just peed my pants.
ME: Aaah… *hangs up quickly*

Brilliant. Yet another reason to not get old

Sdtrk: ‘Nightclubbing’ by Iggy Pop

Did everyone have a satisfying Friday the 13th? Good! Mine was spent at work, praying for a swift death that I knew would never arrive, so unfortunately it was a day pretty much like any other. But you lot get a meme, as it’s been a while!
(nicked from Monti’s little black duck)

First, the rules.
1. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
2. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged must make a post about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog post, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don’t forget to leave them each a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

FAC 01 More often than not, I chew my lips, as in biting the uppermost layer of skin off. I’m sure it’s bad for you, but then, what isn’t? I’ve tried numerous times to stop it, but y’know, I’m just too goddamned delicious

FAC 02 I can trace the exact point that my handwriting started becoming indecipherable; it was the day I bought my first computer. From then on, I’ve never looked back

FAC 03 I was the best man at two different best friends’ weddings: Patrick‘s in Ohio, and Sean’s in some godforsaken place in Michigan. Incidentally, they both owe me photos

FAC 04 I didn’t really learn how to drive until a year or so after taking my drivers ed course (at the long-since-demolished Sears in Highland park, if you must know). This was due to the fact that we trained using an automatic, but my parents’ vehicles were both manuals. The most memorable event during my course, however — this is gonna sound like a ‘back in my day’ kind of thing — was driving during a rainy Winter night in downtown (‘One way streets are the Wave of the Future’) Detroit. That was certainly a trial by fire, after a fashion

FAC 05 Much like Monti, I’m shite when it comes to responding to Emails in a timely manner. The same can be said when it comes to returning phone calls; my average turnaround time ranges from three days to two weeks. As far as phone calls, the reason why is I’m watching my peak minutes like a hawk, and as regards written correspondence, it’s because I’ve never been the sort of bloke whose standard Emails run like ‘hihow’sitgoin’greatnotuptomuchokaycatchyalater’ — my missives usually tend to run long, as sometimes I’m too verbose for my own good. Plus, I procrastinate far more than I should

FAC 06 My dress sense, much like Voltron, is a combination based on several members of some of my favourite music groups:
+ Fringe-based hairstyle — Phil Oakey of the Human League
+ Necklaces, bracelets and wrist belts — Marc Almond of Soft cell
+ Button-down dress shirts — Joy division / Laibach
+ Neckties — Joy division / Laibach
+ Slightly oversized cardigans — Morrissey / Robert Smith of the Cure
+ Cargo trousers — Throbbing gristle
+ German tank driver boots — Laibach
+ Leather jacket — Peter Hook of New order / pretty much any Industrial group from the Eighties
+ Shades, strapped to my face forever — The velvet underground

FAC 07 I’ve been told by several (okay, three) sources that I have no arse.
I… can’t really argue with that assessment

FAC 08 Ask me about my loud and annoying dolphin impersonation!

It was tough coming up with things I hadn’t already covered on my ‘85 things‘ page! I mean, honestly, if you’ve been attentive over the past three years, what don’t you know about me?
Also, if you wish to be tagged, leave a comment in the appropriate space, as people seem to inexplicably hate these things

Sdtrk: ‘Half day closing’ by Portishead

Thankfully, I had the rare presence of mind to get my arse out of bed last night/early this morning and type out the dream I’d had! I present it here, for your edification, dissection, and analysis…

Jeff (aka Zip Gun), Sidore and I are freelance Angel* exterminators. We’re on call in an ivy-covered Roman-styled courtyard, hunting down one that looks a bit like Shamshel. Although the sky is a dark orange lined with purple clouds, it’s been drizzling steadily. The third ‘member’ of our group, a human-sized version of JA’ (pronounced Jet Alone Prime**), has managed to corner our quarry, and I’m firing at the Angel from behind a wrecked car. My weapon is some sort of linear rifle that looks more like a tactical shotgun. The thing about it is that its laser sight, instead of creating a tiny red dot, it paints a 4 inch wide orange smudge on the target that resembles a crayon scribble. One would suppose it’s not a stealth weapon, then…
So I’m pumping shot after shot into it, but I can’t seem to penetrate its AT field. I order JA’ to keep it at bay while I return, and I run off to get Shi-chan. She’s sporting waist-length black hair, and is dressed like a miko***. She’s at the far end of the courtyard; as I’m running towards her, I’m yelling ‘Shi-chan! You need to be backup! Come on!’ I don’t even stop as I throw my backpack to her, and I make a high-speed U-turn back toward the Angel. ‘Grab the gun from the bottom inside and hurry!’

We run back, where JA’ has the Angel under control, after a fashion, by pinning down one of its tentacles with a knee and its hammer — we can tell it’s the main tentacle, as it ends in an enormous red-on-red eye the size of a basketball. I rush up to it, and commence shooting the eye again. At this point, Jeff shows up as well, firing at the eye too, as Sidore, lagging behind a few feet, appears. As Jeff and I are shooting, the tentacle starts whipping around; I yell to her to start firing. However, the backpack I threw her has multiple pockets, making it difficult to find the pistol inside. ‘Which flap? There’s too many bloody flaps!’ ‘Down the back!’ She finally finds the Seburo****, and fires at the eye.
After several more minutes of shooting, Jeff believes us to be in danger — most Angels explode when mortally wounded — and he shouts, ‘We have to pull back, it’s gonna blow!’ The three of us do a runner just as it flips JA’ off its main tentacle. We scramble behind another wrecked car a couple of yards away, but it doesn’t explode. Instead it stands to its full height — about ten feet — and whips its tentacles around in a frenzy, bisecting pillars and generally demolishing everything in its path. ‘If only I’d just stabbed it in the eye with a sword; that probably would’ve done it,’ I muse aloud. ‘I’m going to try it; cover me.’ Sidore takes aim at the Angel with the linear gun, a crayon smudge appearing on its body. Just then, a black cat with white mittens shows up in the courtyard a couple of feet near the Angel, and we recognise it as Jeff’s cat Cooper. Jeff becomes distressed, as either the Angel will attack his cat, or we run the risk of accidentally shooting him.

Aaand at that point, my alarm clock unfortunately woke me up, so that’s the lot. I find that a lot of my dreams are unfinished or unresolved, which leads me to the conclusion that I’m just not sleeping enough. As a character in a Kids in the Hall sketch once remarked, ‘If I don’t get my twenty-three and a half hours’ sleep every night, I get pretty cranky.’

Also, sorry for the copious Wiki links. Nice as Wikipedia is, my mates and I refer to the site as ‘Truth by Consensus’, as any old tosser can go in and maliciously change entries, thereby presenting lies as truth if the errors go unchecked. As of late, I’ve been seriously scaling back any Wikipedia links, but in the case of this post, well, I’m just bloody lazy. Mea culpa!

*For the uninitiated, those would be the Angels from the anime series Evangelion
**a mecha from the PS2 Evangelion game
***a Japanese shrine maiden at Shinto temples
****a machine pistol, created by manga-ka Masamune Shirow

Sdtrk: ‘All I need to hear’ by Candie Payne

Well! It has been UNTOLERABLY FUCK HOT the past couple of days, what with the late-80s-to-upper-90s that we’ve been beset with here in the state. Christ in shitty knickers, it’s been hideous. How can people willingly leave their homes and go out for ‘fun’ in weather like that?? It baffles me completely.

As it so happens, I was forced out into oven heat today, for my follow-up dental appointment to have my root canals sealed up for all time. We also started doing a crown or two. I’ll not get into detail, but let’s just say that it took longer than last time, hurt more than last time, and at one memorable point, I was gushing so much blood that I thought my mouth was having its period. I say no more.
Odhinn only knows why I’m even publically keeping up with my dental reconstruction tales, apart from legitimising the brand spank-me new ‘Body horror’ subcategory. Have you not seen it? It’s under the ‘What the’ category, and rightly so.

Before I returned home, though, I purchased the final volume of Death note (which I can’t wait to read) and Raw danger, the long-awaited sequel to Disaster report, for the PS2 (which I can’t wait to play). Now I have to catch up on buying vols. 6 – whatever of Naoki Urasawa’s Monster, as well as finally breaking down and getting Armored core: Last Raven — Shi-chan and I are so out of the Armored core loop, it’s appalling. We’re only two missions in to Armored core: Nexus! sssh, don’t tell anyone.

Anyway, so apparently BBC America aired ‘Love me, love my Doll‘ (aka Nick Holt’s ‘Guys and Dolls’) this Sunday past. Checking my site stats as usual, I’d noticed a passel of hits resulting from Google searches for ‘love doll’, ‘davecat’, ‘sidore’, real doll’, etc etc. I had no idea that it was even going to be shown in the States, and frankly, I prefer that the majority of the film/telly appearances that Sweetie and I make are only broadcast overseas, for paranoid obvious reasons, but luckily, most Americans don’t know BBC America even exists, as it’s not owned by Rupert Murdoch, nor does it have anything to do with NASCAR. Nevertheless, Sidore-chan and I wish visitors stopping round because of that a grand Hallo! Unless, of course, you happen to be a cultureless troll; in which case, why aint’cha watchin’ NASCAR?
When I came home Monday eve, however, there was an incoming message via YIM, from a person I’d never heard of before, enquiring if I wouldn’t mind answering a few questions. Jennifer Haughton, an ex-pat from England, was writing a piece for University of Southern California’s campus paper about Dolls and their owners, having been inspired by seeing ‘Love me, love my Doll’. So after making certain she wasn’t a ‘bot — spambot, not robot, as the latter is obviously more preferable — we chatted for about an hour, and you can witness the results here. It’s a puff piece, but ultimately harmless…

Also, if you like horror, or just fiction with a sinister bent — and who wouldn’t? — you’ll be pleased to know that Monti’s little black duck sampler anthology is hot off the presses and ready to be downloaded. It’s available in many formats for eReading, or a .pdf for just plain tree-killin’ reading, but it contains three complete short stories, and the first chapter of a work in progress. Technically, the sampler can be categorised as Summer reading, so get downloading!

Finally, this would be post no.501. HERE COME THE DRUMS HERE COME THE DRUMS

Sdtrk: ‘Albion Festival report’ by The focus group

I have absolutely nothing polite to say about this. Nothing whatsoever.

Mobile texts harm written language?
Reuters | Wed Apr 25, 2007 9:28 AM ET

DUBLIN (Reuters) – The rising popularity of text messaging on mobile phones poses a threat to writing standards among Irish schoolchildren, an education commission says.

The frequency of errors in grammar and punctuation has become a serious concern, the State Examination Commission said in a report after reviewing last year’s exam performance by 15-year-olds.

“The emergence of the mobile phone and the rise of text messaging as a popular means of communication would appear to have impacted on standards of writing as evidenced in the responses of candidates,” the report said, according to Wednesday’s Irish Times.

“Text messaging, with its use of phonetic spelling and little or no punctuation, seems to pose a threat to traditional conventions in writing.”

The report laments that, in many cases, candidates seemed “unduly reliant on short sentences, simple tenses and a limited vocabulary.”

In 2003, Irish 15-year-olds were among the top 10 performers in an international league table of literacy standards compiled by the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development.

Call me old-fashioned, or call me anal-retentive, but honestly, I think people in this day and age not having proper writing skills is embarrassing and shameful. Yes, I realise that language evolves through time for ‘better’ usage — arguably what comprises contemporary English is much less brain-destroying than say, Middle English — but these days I’m inclined to think that ‘better’ in the context of 21st Century society really means ‘lazier’.

My friend Wolfgang of vulne pro studios once argued that if the person who receives your message can parse what you’re essentially saying, despite any misspellings or grammar explosions, then that’s really the most important thing. Sure, I’ll grant him that, but I firmly believe that proper spelling should be encouraged. There are many people out there, myself included, who will almost entirely disregard an article, a blog entry, a post, or what have you if it’s typed ham-handedly. There may be an important message cleverly hidden within, but it’s as if the reader is being given a diamond ring cleverly hidden within a handful of shit. Frankly, if a person can’t be arsed to take the time to spell properly, why should anyone take the time to read it?
For a lot of people (and note, that’s ‘a lot’ — ‘alot’ isn’t a word), it’s a case of they’re typing so fast, that they don’t go over what they’ve written for errors before they submit it or hit the Send button; that’s how the Interbutt standards ‘zOMG’ and ‘teh’ began, for instance. There’s absolutely no sane reason why a person can’t give what they’ve said a quick check. And ‘that takes too long’ is hardly an excuse — if your spelling and grammar is up to snuff, it won’t take more than a couple of seconds, at any rate.

And as far as limited vocabulary, that rankles me just as much, if not more. Could you imagine if writers such as Wilde, or Burgess, or Machen, or Plath, didn’t have the benefit of an expansive vocabulary? Could you picture how incredibly dull their writing would be, or any writing, speech, or dialogue, for that matter? Language should be more than just a vehicle for basic communication; at its best, it should also paint pictures. Obviously, not everything that comes out of everyone’s mouth should sound like something by Edward Bulwer-Lytton (‘Yes, my good maiden; I would desire to place an order for a burger of ham, bedecked with intertwining spirals of tomato catsup and yellowed mustard, denuded of pickles, and accompanying that I wouldst like a singular order of French fries — crisp, golden-brown shards of deeply-fried potato — in the largest size a man can request. To quench my thirst which threatens even now to vanquish me, I will also require a chilled Coca’d-Cola, in a size that lay betwixt Diminutive and Titanic’) but a larger vocabulary is, at the very least, a sign that you’re trying to elevate yourself above the grunts and snorts that pass for common language.

In summation? Read more books, I suppose