Sunday, September 12, 2004 story, June '04

Some people hear messages when records are played backwards-- I see stories in the Word's of the Day. Here is my story for June 2004:

My jeremiad springs, autochthonous, from the Potemkin village of, in the favonian heat of June, before the yeasty heat of July and August, when a person can still think with equanimity. Surely I am no deipnosophist, nor do I take any great delectation in telling the story of such a...quisling, but I get ahead of myself. Let me start again ab ovo.

In this month of June, in this place known as Dictionary, there were two classes of information providers: the very rich, who ruled the land via primogeniture, known as the Media; and the very poor mendicant class, starvelings all, known as the Bloggers.

The Media were comely to be sure, bedizened in blazers and trousers of the finest cloth. They were also prone to braggaocio, believing their sonorous dictums, whether based on fact or not, could enjoin the masses, nolens volens, to do as they wished.

The Bloggers, though poor, were more likely to be found woolgathering, usually in recumbent positions, making trenchant homilies to no one in particular. Bloggers misprized the Media, believing Media's practices, basically a vade mecum for corruption, had made Truth ancillary to their own ambitions, peccantly trading veracity for pin money.

Though small and weak, the Bloggers were relentless, and publicly the Media sought to palliate the acrimony between the two factions by inviting them to an insignificant political convention. In actuality, Media sought to humiliate the Bloggers using all the sciolism at their disposal.

(to be continued)