People laugh at me when I speak well.
“How you doing, Pete?” They ask.
“I’m doing well,” I say.
Their eyes narrow. “Well? Who you trying to impress? You mean you’re doing good.”
“No, I’m not doing good. If I was doing good, I’d be Batman. Batman does good, I do well.”
Really, from all the looks, comments, I feel I should apologize for knowing the difference between an adjective and an adverb.
We are defined by our language. This is as profound/shallow as you wish to make it. Your vocabulary is the sound of you, at least a fifth of how you come across to others. Yet, all I hear is: shit, fuck, like, uh huh, and you know. There are over 600,000 words in the English language, yet, we only use five of them. We say we only use ten percent of our brain. Maybe it’s because we use less than ten percent of our language.
I was talking to this comedian before a show. I won’t embarrass him by naming him, so let’s just call him, Pickles. Pickles and I are having a drink before the show, and he’s telling me a story about getting in trouble with his girlfriend earlier in the day.
“And she’s all mad about it, and I’m all like… you know.”
And I’m all like you know. No, I don’t know. What were you all like? Could you give me a little more to work with? Even like one adjective. Unless you think, ‘you know’ is an adjective, then, you know, you’re wrong.
Our lack of vocabulary and our impatience has created a monster called, You Know. It destroys all thought, language, and art of communication. Beware of the You Know monster. It will destroy every conversation you ever have.
Don’t give me, “You know.” Are you saying, by not saying anything, that you have nothing to say? Do you know how ridiculous it is to say you have nothing to say? If you have nothing to say, say nothing. Shut the hell up. But, if you’ve got a juicy story, let me savor the meat. Give me some spice. Don’t just you know it up. It’s like inviting me for dinner and making me cook and wash the dishes. Finish your own damn story like I just finished mine, you know.