A continuum of tasty words…
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I am not a sarcastic person. Sarcasm strikes me as mean — snarky condemnations passive-aggressively issued by arrogant people desperate to feel superior to those they ridicule. Those who are not the target may think it’s witty, but maybe they’re just relieved and smugly enjoying the fact it wasn’t aimed at them. After all, does anyone really deserve such ridicule? I’m inclined to give all* people the benefit of the doubt, and accept their occasionally foolish, irritating, mind-raspingly stupid behavior as an entitlement every human may claim. Even I could claim it if I were ever foolish, irritating, or stupid. None of which, of course, I ever am.
That’s the reason Romero Russo was such a revelation. More than two years ago, Romero started writing a book called Sarcasm Font. My first public view of him was on Inkshares during a marketing contest. After completing the first five chapters of his ambiguously fictional story, he started blogging. People found…
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This, but with color. Much more color:
ENHANCED‘s Rejection N°2 arrived as a form email. It came from an agency in Colorado, so I thought it would be appropriate to focus on a meaningful creation that you might not consider classically “beautiful”.
ALL the authors say rejection is a very big part of trying to get published. To commemorate each rejection we receive for ENHANCED, and prevent it from being totally depressing, I’ve decided to make something beautiful. Because…
I sat between two women who had missed the same flight to San Francisco I had missed, and had also rushed to grab seats on this one.
One of them said, “Pete Conrad is on this flight. He was standing in the ticket line right in front of me, and I really wanted to talk to him, but I chickened out.”
Scanning the cabin, the other one asked, “Where?”
“Right now, he’s in that bathroom,” the first answered, pointing ahead, “but his seat is right across the aisle.”
An astronaut who had walked on the moon?! My heart thumped faster at just the thought. “Okay,” I announced, “when he comes out, we’re going to meet him.”
Moments later, he walked down the aisle. All three of us stood up, and I held out my hand. “Mr. Conrad,” I said, “It’s an honor to meet you. Could I ask you something?”
He shook my hand, and looking at me with eyes that were somehow deeper, vaster, fuller than any I’d ever seen, he said, “Sure.”
“What amazed you most about being on the moon?”
He hesitated only a second before answering.
“The colors. It would have to be all the colors. ” Pete Conrad, third man on the moon
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