Failing the Course of Gravity
The Infinite Echo
B. Thomas Cooper
Editor
“The world of fools has such a store,
That he who would not see an ass,
Must abide at home, and bolt his door,
And even break his looking glass.”
-Unknown
Honey, I’m home!
So then, have you ever read Robert Elliot’s book, The Power of Satire?
Neither have I, but this morning I began reading a book by an author who claims he has. The name of the author is George A. Test. His book is titled: Satire (Spirit and Art).
I hadn’t even completed reading the introduction before my heart filled with trepidation. Here are the first three sentences in their entirety. I leave nothing to the imagination.
“The emotions that are thought to give rise to satire are generally acknowledged to be the least admirable human emotions-anger, malice, hatred, indignation. The emotions that satire are said to evoke are likewise emotions that make most people uncomfortable- shame, anger, guilt, anxiety. The view of humanity in satire is a negative one- tumultuous, crowded, aggressive, cynical, pessimistic.”
I have a confession to make. I fear I may be a satirist.
Not all the time, mind you. Still, I find this of great concern. Consider the following, culled from the first sentence of the second paragraph:
“It is not surprising then, that satirists have been the most persecuted of artists- exiled, silenced, sued, physically attacked.”
Do you see what I mean? This is indeed, a disturbing development. Thank the good Lord, my dear old mother didn’t live to read this. It would have worried her to death!
For some inexplicable reason, I am reminded of that guy at the carnival who sits on a seat suspended above a tank of water, hurling insults and expletives at all comers. We in turn, attempt to dump the bastard into the icy drink by hurling baseballs at a shiny red button that activates the latch on his seat. We are willing to shell out our hard earned cash to participate in this cruel ritual, and folks seem to enjoy themselves.
Thus is the thrust of humanity. Pity the poor satirist who is fool enough to put it all into perspective for us.
So be it.
I suppose I should attempt to address this issue at greater length when time allows, but I must wrap it up for now. I need to go bolt my door. An angry mob is forming in my driveway.
The Infinite Echo
B. Thomas Cooper
Editor
“The world of fools has such a store,
That he who would not see an ass,
Must abide at home, and bolt his door,
And even break his looking glass.”
-Unknown
Honey, I’m home!
So then, have you ever read Robert Elliot’s book, The Power of Satire?
Neither have I, but this morning I began reading a book by an author who claims he has. The name of the author is George A. Test. His book is titled: Satire (Spirit and Art).
I hadn’t even completed reading the introduction before my heart filled with trepidation. Here are the first three sentences in their entirety. I leave nothing to the imagination.
“The emotions that are thought to give rise to satire are generally acknowledged to be the least admirable human emotions-anger, malice, hatred, indignation. The emotions that satire are said to evoke are likewise emotions that make most people uncomfortable- shame, anger, guilt, anxiety. The view of humanity in satire is a negative one- tumultuous, crowded, aggressive, cynical, pessimistic.”
I have a confession to make. I fear I may be a satirist.
Not all the time, mind you. Still, I find this of great concern. Consider the following, culled from the first sentence of the second paragraph:
“It is not surprising then, that satirists have been the most persecuted of artists- exiled, silenced, sued, physically attacked.”
Do you see what I mean? This is indeed, a disturbing development. Thank the good Lord, my dear old mother didn’t live to read this. It would have worried her to death!
For some inexplicable reason, I am reminded of that guy at the carnival who sits on a seat suspended above a tank of water, hurling insults and expletives at all comers. We in turn, attempt to dump the bastard into the icy drink by hurling baseballs at a shiny red button that activates the latch on his seat. We are willing to shell out our hard earned cash to participate in this cruel ritual, and folks seem to enjoy themselves.
Thus is the thrust of humanity. Pity the poor satirist who is fool enough to put it all into perspective for us.
So be it.
I suppose I should attempt to address this issue at greater length when time allows, but I must wrap it up for now. I need to go bolt my door. An angry mob is forming in my driveway.
The Infinite Echo
posted by B. Thomas Cooper | 2:57 PM
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