Long before the personal computer reduced the ink pen to
the plight of the slingshot, before telephones became diminutive
amanuenses and coffee shops sold coffee and served it in sturdy ceramic
cups most moderately educated people knew how to marry a noun and a verb
into an enduring and meaningful relationship.
Nowadays the mere garnish of an adjective evokes such undeserved awe it's as if one were witnessing a barefoot Lama levitating to the song of some invisible bamboo flute. What was once a given among the reasonably educated now seems as exotic as a Capuchin monkey riding the rear of a randy Australian dingo.
And speaking of randy dingos, no less of an authority as ol' Wally Whitman reminded us that "to have great poets there must be great audiences." If avoiding the word so at the beginning of a sentence is the measure of a great stylist then I'm afraid the great audiences might be busy somewhere else.
Why don't I write?
Why don't you tap dance?
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