I am writing this from my in-laws home.  It was only very recently that they entered the new era of technology and brought the awesome power of the internet into their home.  The whole world at the push of a button.  The power.  The capabilities.  Their world has been ripped open and everything they knew was torn asunder by the unimaginable might of the sheer power of the internet.

Granted they only use it for coupons and farmville, but that’s another topic for another blog.  Tonight’s blog has a more serious tone.

When we think about the internet, the words, the knowledge, we don’t always recognize the power it holds.  Some of us misuse it’s power to play nonsense games (anyone want to join my Mafia?) or watch pornography, or buy crap we don’t need with money we don’t have.  The point is, most of us fail to recognize the power and ability of the internet in our homes mostly because of the way that we use it, or misuse it.

Words are a lot like the internet.  Most people don’t use words and language to their full potential, they fall short.  They talk about nonsense, they talk about sex, but utterly dismiss the idea of sharing powerful information, or transferring ideas.

Some people misuse words as much as the internet.

I understand that my language can be quite barbed at times, and I poke fun at a moronic dope-smoking misanthrope, but I also try to convey some semblance of meaning, some ideals, something of value deeply hidden within my hideous diatribes.  I understand something about language that some people forgot- it is a tool.  A very powerful tool.

Some people make their living using the power of language.  From journalists and poets to priests and prophets, from lawyers and politicians to comedians and commentators.   Language can convey meaning, joy, laughter, tears, sadness, the list is endless because it is language.

This blog is about the language that cause sadness.  Pain.

The pugnacious pithy redundant pundit has a blog in which she endlessly and thoughtlessly spews lies about people, then claims immunity from retaliation by stating her blog is a work of fiction (and since lies are fiction, she’s technically right), complete with a fictitious main character named, Amelia.

The town of Frelinghuysenfolly had it’s founder’s picnic – family fun for free for all!  At this event there was a pig-roast, and as customary the pig was named… and this year she was named, Amelia.  Now, this is language use at its finest in my opinion.  She is screaming suits and defamation, but at best it was a coincidence, at worst it was named after a fictitious trouble-making harlot in a work of fiction.  No harm, no foul.  She brought this all upon herself by screaming “Sanctuary!” from the top of her fictional work – fiction is a two-way street, and she needs to learn that.

Some Pig!

My problem comes shortly after, and no, it is not the direct fault of the hapless hippie.

This non compos mentis moron happens to have been able to find a similarly feeble-minded friend to mate with and produced a child.  This child has no choice of her parents.  This child knows only what she is surrounded with and taught.  This child is a victim of the circumstances surrounding her.

To keep things simple, we will call her Capella.  Capella is a student in the local elementary school.  She is a nice, caring child who is a product of her environment in the good way of being different, standing outside of the crowd, taking her own path.  I admire all of those qualities.  She takes a lot of flack for simply being herself.  I know it is sad.  I know it is wrong.  I know that is life and she needs to get used to it- learn to overcome the adversities inherent to her life’s unique path.

She seems (I don’t know for sure) to be able to take most of her peers persistent not-so-jovial jokes rather well, but there is a point where we must draw the line.

Again; people (children in particular) don’t remember the power that language has.  It is easy to become numb, adjusted, ascend above the daily discomforts she endures, but things seem to have escalated.

Some other children, specifically little Micky (a pseudonym not unlike the previous,) have switched their game.  They have taken the name of the real-life pig and fictitious character and place it upon the real-life writer – the mother of Capella.  Now to reiterate, the children have somehow learned that Amelia is the narrative counter-part to the writer even though we can safely assume they are not reading her drivel nor noticing of the name of the pig, nor caring of the grown-up politics of the world they muddle through.

What conclusion does this lead us to?

The parents of some children, most likely little Mickey’s, have brought the unsavory world of politics and backstabbing deceitful drug-addicts into the conscious world of their children and have also applied their views (both political and personal) of this woman upon their children.  This is never a good parenting idea.  It is much worse when the woman you complain about has a misfit daughter ripe for parody and ridicule.

I can’t blame a 10 year old child for saying things like: “I enjoyed eating that big fat pig at the picnic” to Capella, especially after the mother runs through town telling everyone that she is Amelia and the town was cooking and eating her in effigy.  He doesn’t know the power of his language.  Who I can blame is the parents who subjected the child to the knowledge of the dark underbelly and for demonizing their classmate’s mother in front of them.  That is wrong.  That is inexcusable.

And it’s happening on both sides.  Amelia’s real-life writer has taught her children to hate other people in town to such an extent that her younger daughter admonishes adults who she has seen fraternizing with certain people.  She was only 5-years-old telling people that they are bad people and telling her friends’ parents that they are bad people because she saw them talking to the mayor.

This is horrid.

Some people really need to wake-up and look what they are doing to their children.  I will give little Micky’s parents a pass if they were not aware of what their child was doing and teaches them why they were wrong, but the hippy… well, I have heard over a half-dozen different instances where her daughter spoke ill of adults in a position of authority, both to them and to other adults, simply mimicking what her parents say and teach her to say- seeking the approval of her parental units through adaptation of learned behavior (of which the pathological liar admits being aware of!)

Humperbagel, you are disgusting.  You really are a pig.  I don’t know if that was the meaning that was truly intended at the picnic, but you could never win a defamation suit because your actions and parenting prove it is true.  And little Micky’s parents: take note, you want to be better then the hippie harlot, not just like her.

Words and language are powerful.  Be mindful how you use it and whom you use it in front of.