The Course of My Discourse
Literary devices, beware!
I have not always enjoyed writing; has anyone? Seriously, who hasn’t groaned, rolled their eyes, and moped out of class when the teacher assigned a 500 word essay? Have you ever heard of a child prodigy in writing? I’m certain that our ancestral cave dwellers regret the first cave paintings which led us to where we are today.
I have come to enjoy stream-of-consciousness writing that is afforded by literary crutches such as computer word processors so, in those rare, lucid moments I am able to craft something intelligible, it is important that I transcribe it to some form of permanent record. I do this for two reasons. 1) When I read it later I may surprise myself at just how coherent and lucid the writing is. 2) For the sake of posterior, because it may become the butt of jokes in the future.
I’m most comfortable in a community of village idiots where I do not stand out. If, when reading this, you feel offended, please, don’t be. I’ve got plenty of future musings that will offend you even more and I would hate for you to waste a negative emotion on me this early in our relationship.
Slightly more seriously, I really enjoy the company of sophisticatedly irreverent, left-leaning, witty characters who stir my curiosity and make me want to be them. My door is always open to an identity crisis.
I have no idea how frequently I will post because my muse is polyamorous and I’m the proverbial chopped liver of the relationships. When the inspiration does occur, expect pithy, irreverent commentary on subjects ranging from the ridiculous to the sublime.
Caveat lector! I am a wordy wordsmith who thrives on using polysyllabic words when far simpler ones would suffice, especially in the most mundane cases. I puckishly employ double entendres, plays on words, sarcasm, satire and other literary crutches to lull readers into thinking I know what the hell I am doing. However, I do not stoop to the use of cheap hacks such as alliteration and self-deprecating humor in my writing
My first Substack Newsletter, my wit’s end, is my wider (not louder) voice, for good or ill. Oft-times, it is only when we reach our wit’s end that we finally take up the pen and wield it in satirical defiance of perceived or actual harms we feel have been visited upon us.
Satire flourished soon after arrogance became de rigueur among royals and nobles. Don’t you hate it when some otherwise well-meaning person thinks he is the anointed spokesperson for a presumably monolithic cultural subset? That was the genesis of satire and soon became an emotional sedative against pernicious petty problems plaguing people. It is to this end that I dedicate my wit’s end newsletter. As you meander the pages, please take note of how I capitalize on my own false humility by using a dearth of capitalized letters, except for readability purposes, thus not calling attention to my words and, by extension, myself.
There's a better than 50/50 chance I will be using this virtual space for less than optimum purposes. My guilt over such misappropriation of said space is as virtual as the space itself. Even so, please stay tuned for the further adventures of Wry Banter, my literary alter-ago.
Note: Wry Banter is my play-on-words, anagrammatic pseudonym created just for this body of work. Admittedly, it was derived using the assistance of AI with the explicit requirement that it contain only letters from my real name.
