Things that are tagged esoteric stuff

On Grammar

T.J. Monkey’s has a very specific demographic. We reach young males. 20-23 years old. Who are my friends. Who I e-mail and remind to look at the site. Who are named Bret. Yes, basically, this is all for the benefit of Bret, this whole venture. To keep him entertained, to keep him happy, to keep his interest piqued.

And so I thought, “What better way to really make Bret happy than to write a big, long, rambling article about grammar?” Bret obviously loves grammar, and the way I can tell this is that when he sends Thought submissions to me to edit, they have extremely terrible grammar. You see, Bret loves grammar so much, that everything he sends me is like a big grammatical puzzle for me to solve. I imagine what he probably does is, he writes his Thoughts with perfect grammar and all, and then he goes back and painstakingly changes the Thought, adding in horrible grammatical errors for me to fix.

“Oh, look!” thinks Bret. “In this paragraph, I am consistent with the tense of my verbs! Well, let’s just skiddle dee doo that around a bit…put in a few more there’s instead of they’re’s…aaaaand…there! Let’s see if Porter can solve this little mind bender! He has nothing better to do with his time!”

And that’s where he’s right. I don’t. And I love grammar, just like Bret. So I thought, “Hey, let’s have an article on the site about how important grammar is, and go through some of the basics of good grammar.” And so, here we are. Let’s begin!

Why Grammar Is So Important or STOP! Grammar-time!

Most people in this world don’t give grammar enough damn credit. It’s very important. Why, without it, the books and articles we read would be nothing more than a bunch of unintelligible series of words. It would be like if a roomful of monkeys just typed stuff out on a typewriter, or if someone just cut up the dictionary into little pieces and pasted stuff together at random, or if Ethan Hawke wrote a novel.

Yes, grammar is not unlike the underappreciated friend we all have. You know, the guy who always helps you move, and never asks for anything in return, but consistently reminds you about it, and it’s like this big guilt trip that he just won’t drop. Yes, grammar is that annoying guy, who you don’t really like, and you can’t remember how you even met him, probably through another friend who you no longer keep in touch with, and he always puts stuff on your tab, and his stupid brother crashed at your place for three weeks and puked on your couch, and you can’t get the smell out, no matter hard you try, and he owes you $300, and you’ll never see that money, which is too bad, because you need a new stereo.

That’s who grammar is.

Anyway, let’s look at some basics of grammar. Some of these are things I learned in school, and some are just unspoken rules, rules that I’ve picked up off the streets. The tough streets of Internet comedy essay writing.

First off, we look at the sentence. The sentence is made up of words which, in turn, are made up of letters. The sentence is the basic building block of good writing. Writing that doesn’t use sentences is bad. Unless it’s by James Joyce. And then it’s good. Or, well, I guess poetry doesn’t always have sentences. So, OK, if your writing doesn’t have sentences, you better be writing poetry, or you better be able to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you are in fact, James Joyce.

Now, sometimes, people write what they think are sentences, but what are actually “sentence fragments”. Fragments are bad. Very bad. Very very bad. Not good. At all. (That’s a little grammatical humor, Bret, that I’m sure you just found totally wicked!)

You see, a lot of people think that a sentence is just any old combination of words that has a period at the end. This is not true. Sentences have two key parts: the subject and the predicament. The subject is like the main character of the sentence. The protagonist, if you will. The predicament (which is from the Greek “predikamus”, which means “a sentence’s ass”) is like what happens to the main character, i.e. what sort of crazy “predicament” he gets into. You see, a good sentence is like a good sitcom. You have some sort of nutty main character, and then he gets into some kooky predicament, and then there’s some wacky neighbors, and copious amounts of sexual innuendo, and everything gets resolved, and then they roll the credits. Or, in the case of a sentence, the “period”. That’s why the credits are “rolled”, because they are like a period, which is round. Starting to get all this? I know; it’s tough. Look, let’s break down a few example sentences. In the sentence:

Bret eats the sandwich.

Bret” is the subject. “Eats the sandwich” is the predicament. Ooo! Hey, cool, now, in the sentence:

“Eats the sandwich” is the predicament.

“‘Eats the sandwich’” is now the subject! So, it kind of switched around on us. What just occurred is an example of a “literary device”. Literary Devices are not parts of grammar, but they’re important to writing. This particular literary device, where one part of a sentence turned around and switched to another part of another sentence, is called “The Ol’ Switcheroo”. You’ll often see English professors, while poring over texts, occasionally jump up and exclaim, “Hey! It’s ‘The Ol’ Switcheroo’!” And then they high five each other. English professors are a raucous bunch of blokes.

Other Literary Devices include hyperbole and irony. Hyperbole is when you add in the word “damn” to a sentence. So, let’s say your sentence is:

That’s a big sandwich.

Using hyperbole, you’d get:

That’s a damn big sandwich.

Hyperbole “ups the stakes” of sentences and makes things more exciting, or should I say, makes things more damn exciting! (More cool grammatical humor. Pretty wicked, huh, Bret?)

Irony is when you say something clever. Anything remotely clever is probably ironic. So, whenever describes some situation that’s sort of funny, you should always chime in and say, “How ironic!” You’ll always be right, and people will think you’re smart. (They’ll be right!)

OK, but back to grammar. So you have your sentences, and they make up paragraphs. If sentences are like sitcoms, paragraphs are like “Must See TV”. They’re a group of sentences, placed together because they’re all sort of similar and compliment each other.

Like “Must See TV”, sentences must be ordered very specifically. Your first sentence is like “Friends”. It’s gotta be strong, with appealing characters, and tight clothing, something that people will tune in to see, but it also should be light and humorous, nothing too heavy to scare people off. Your last sentence has to be strong too, like “ER”, so the last sentence should be longer, more dramatic, more emotional, a real show-stopper.

Then there are the sentences in the middle. They are like the shows in between “Friends” and “ER”. They’re like “The Stephen Weber Show” or “Jesse”. No one cares about them, and it doesn’t matter what’s in ‘em. Any time spent on these sentences is just wasted time. No one cares. Just type “blah blah blah”, slap on a period, and be done with them. Or better yet, just repeat the first sentence. People like that, because they’ve already read this sentence, and they’re comfortable with it. And if a first sentence is really good, you can just put it into syndication and use it as a middle sentence in all your paragraphs.

Finally, we’ll go over “voice”. There are two main types of voices: active voice and passive voice. Here is a sentence in active voice:

Bret kicked the shit out of some kid in grade school.

Here is a sentence in passive voice:

Bret got the shit kicked out of him in grade school.

In passive voice, the subject of the sentence (see above) takes a more passive role in the predicament of the sentence (see above again). You should never ever use the passive voice ever. I don’t know why. It’s just, my 10th grade English teacher, she told us that using passive voice was really terrible. Even when it was the more correct way to say something (as in the example above). She really hated it. It was as though the passive voice had murdered a member of her family. Or, well, I should say, it was as though a member of her family was murdered by the passive voice. So just don’t use it. It’s as bad as sentence fragments. Maybe worse. (Hee hee!)

OK, so there’s a basic review of some key parts of grammar. Go forth and use them in your writing! Except of course, if you are Bret. If you are Bret, you should continue to play your clever grammatical games with me. Send me your fragments! Send me all your mismatches tenses and voices! Send me your paragraph-less ramblings! I will continue to solve every puzzle you throw my way, you crazy kid. Until I find something better to do. Like, you know, if “Friends” is on. “Friends” will then be watched by me.

(At this point, Porter was murdered by his 10th grade English teacher, Mrs. Bandy. How ironic!)

FIN

Porter

On Economics

Economics. You know, I often hear that word thrown around a lot in mixed conversation, but who among us really knows much about it? Economics. I bet you’ve even said it yourself a few times at a party or something:

“Your check bounced? Hmm, I know a bit about Economics, allow me to have a look….”

“Fish and red wine? No, no, Harry, that’s bad for the Economics.”

“You’re gonna be late? Shit, man, then Economics that shit up!”

Yes, it’s a popular word, especially with the hipster crowd, and yes, it’s quite misunderstood. But no longer.

Economics. Economics. The first noticeable thing is that it’s a science-y word, like Physics or Dianetics. Now, those of you “Word-o-philes” out there probably recognize the suffix “-ics” appears in all three of these words. “-ics” comes from the ancient language of the Greeks, and it means “will be studied in a science-type manner.” For example, Physics breaks down to phys-ics, or phonetically: fizz-ics. So Physics literally means “fizz will be studied in a science-type manner.” And that’s exactly what Physics is: the study of little atoms and stuff fizzing around all over the place.

So, Economics: Eco-nom-ics. “Eco” here stands for “Ecco the Dolphin,” which was a video game on the Sega Genesis. “Nom” is French for “name.” So then, Economics literally means: “the game’s name will be studied in a science-type manner.” And what’s the name of the game? Money! Cash! Bucks! Yes, Economics is the study of money. It’s the study of where all the money is, where it’s all going, and who’s moving it. And it’s loads of fun.

Economics has two basic principles:

Supply.

Supply, in terms of Economics, is short for Air Supply (just like ‘Tallica is short for Metallica). Air Supply was an Australian band in the Seventies and Eighties that wrote a lot of really sappy, really cheesy Soft Pop songs. Inexplicably, their albums were huge successes, many of them going multi-platinum. They sold millions of albums and made millions of dollars. The bizarre thing is, these days, no one seems to like Air Supply. No one has the albums. Not even old people. You don’t even really find them at used record stores. So the question is…where the hell are all these millions of albums? Who bought them? That’s what Economics tells you.

Demand.

Demand, in terms of Economics, represents the phrase, “you the man,” oft-uttered at golf tournaments and wedding rehearsal dinners. Demand is a slurred version of “The Man.” The Man, as far as Economics goes (which is what the focus of this piece is, Economics), is the guy who has the most money. If some guy has more stuff than anyone else, he’s Demand. Now, this can actually be money, like dollar bills and Sacajawea gold coins, or it can be liquid assets, like molten gold. Who is Demand? How did he get all this stuff? That’s what Economics tells you.

Now, Economics teaches us that Supply and Demand are totally intertwined. This is because Demand owns a lot of Supply albums. Why? Well, because Demand just has so much stuff; he just has a lot of everything. Also, Demand likes power ballads. OK, so when Demand is down, that means he’s not feeling really happy, maybe because his stockpile of molten gold solidified into a lame shape. Now, historically, Demand has a tendency to listen to really sappy, cheesy music when he’s down. Music like Air Supply. Thus, when Demand is down, Supply is usually up. Now when Demand is high, that’s when he’s had a lot of marijuana (and this is really good marijuana because, well, because he’s Demand). When Demand is high, he has a tendency to listen to crappy music and think it’s awesome (this is how Phish became so poular). Thus, when Demand is high, Supply is also usually up.

So basically, Supply is always up whenever Demand is down or high. Supply is down whenever Demand is remotely lucid and also right after a new Superdrag album comes out. Demand loves Superdrag. Demand is up when Supply is touring, and they make a stop in his hometown. But Demand is low if the Supply show is a stadium show because Demand remembers the good ol’ days when he saw Supply in a shitty, little bar in Virginia, and they still cared about their fans.

This all make sense? Well, it shouldn’t! You’re not a trained Economist. But if you found this at all interesting, maybe you could be! Then, the next time you’re at a party, and you hear someone say,

“Hey, this chocalate mousse it totally Economics!”

You can say,

“That’s not the proper use of the word, moron! It means ‘the study of money.’ Sheesh.”

And then someone else at the party will say,

“Wow, that guy’s got his shit together.”

And then someone else will say,

“Yeah…he’s Demand.”

Porter

On Understanding Art

A young couple walk up to a painting in an art gallery and stop.

COURTNEY
This one’s sort of nice, Rich. This old man with the guitar here.

RICHARD
Courtney…you know this painting.

COURTNEY
No. No, I don’t, dear.

RICHARD
Courtney, this is “The Old Guitarist.” Picasso? The Blue Period? Honey, I studied Picasso for three years. I did my master’s on the Blue Period. I spent almost half of grad school staring at this exact painting. Don’t you…remember?

COURTNEY
Sorry, dear, you know I stay away from you and your little paintings when you’re studying. It certainly is very blue colored.

RICHARD
Well. It was during his, ah, his Blue Period. All his paintings then were mainly in different shades of blue. Picasso was…very sad during this period. He was…so very sad.

COURTNEY
He kinda looks like my uncle Robert a little, don’t you think, honey? ‘Course Robert never played the guitar, but…I guess Picasso didn’t do realistic stuff.

RICHARD
You know, no one really seemed to understand Picasso. Not even those…close to him. He was very misunderstood.

COURTNEY
You know I’ve always liked that Norman Rockwell. Now he was a genius. Any of his earlier things. The stuff with puppies or barbers. Or Santa.

RICHARD
My God, Honey. Picasso was surrounded by the most idiotic people. Just to listen to these people…it made him weep, honey. Picasso just sat in his studio, painting and weeping! And all the paint got mixed together, maybe that’s why everything just ended up blue!

COURTNEY
Oh! That reminds me! I didn’t pick up the maid of honor dresses, dear. You need to pick them up tomorrow.

RICHARD
Honey, I have to teach class tomorrow. I can’t keep missing my class, it’s- why can’t- this is important to me!

COURTNEY
I know it is, dear. You know I do. Why else would I ask my father to fund your little research things every single year? I do think this stuff is important. To you. And I want my little Richie to be happy. But the wedding’s in three weeks, dear, and if I don’t get those dresses tomorrow, well, trust me: you won’t be happy.

RICHARD
Honey-

COURTNEY
Why don’t you tell me more about “The Unemployed Guitarist,” Richard.

A pause.

RICHARD
“The Old Guitarist.” Notice how the boundaries of the canvas itself affect the composition. Picasso made the old man all scrunched up to show that he’s…trapped. Trapped in a very hopeless situation. My dear God, he’s so trapped.

COURTNEY
Well, the way he’s sitting, that’s really terrible for the back you know. Picasso wasn’t really a master of lumbar support.

RICHARD
Oh God, there’s no way out for this guy! He can’t…he can’t even breathe…that’s…maybe that’s why he’s blue, for God’s sake! He’s trapped by the damn canvas just like he’s trapped in his damn marriage!

COURTNEY
The old man was married?

RICHARD
What? No. No! Poverty!! He was, he’s trapped by poverty! Ha ha! Not his, ha ha! Not his marriage! It was his poverty that, that trapped him. Ha ha ha. He’s…he’s so trapped.

COURTNEY
Oh…OK. Oh and I forgot to tell you, Garland called, and we have to go sign the lease on Wednesday.

RICHARD
What? I…I thought we were gonna…gonna talk about that, I don’t-

COURTNEY
Now, he suggested we go with the fifteen-year plan, but I said to go ahead with the forty-five-year plan, because well, there’s no reason to rush, right?

RICHARD
What? Honey, I-

COURTNEY
I mean, “till death do us part!” Right?

RICHARD
What? I don’t-… Jesus, honey, look at the God damn brush strokes on this thing!

COURTNEY
What?

RICHARD
The brush strokes, the God damn brush strokes! My Lord, they’re just so erratic!

COURTNEY
Dear?

RICHARD
Picasso was crazy, honey! He was insane! Why can’t the old man just look up from his stupid guitar and see what’s happening?!

COURTNEY
He’s using the canvas to affect the composition, dear, you-

RICHARD
Oh, screw all that analysis bullshit, honey, Picasso’s just insane, and he painted an insane guitar player! And…and if he had a damn shred of courage he’d just leave her!

COURTNEY
Leave who, honey? I thought he wasn’t married.

RICHARD
Poverty! “Her” is Poverty! He should just throw out his crappy guitar, walk out of this stupid art gallery, and tell Madame Poverty to kiss his ass! But he doesn’t! He just keeps all that rage bottled up inside! And that’s why he’s blue honey! That’s why he’s blue!

COURTNEY
You get all that from just the brush strokes, dear?

RICHARD
Yes! Yes I do!

COURTNEY
Honey, you know…I’ll never understand your little profession.

Porter