Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Lacks Any Real Pizzaz . . .


After musing upon my seeming inability to write blog entries in depth on various subjects which interest me, I came to the conclusion that it is because I have no deep convictions about much of anything. That is probably why my writing is so prosaic. And that's probably sad.

I thought about some of the blogs I read repeatedly and found that each of them has a definite theme.  They have a cause that each blogger is passionate about. The blogs, for example, of two militant atheists, PZ Myers  and Greta Christina -- both of whom, besides being competent writers, are without a doubt absolutely dedicated to passionately expounding their personal beliefs.

Taslima Nasreen has a simplistic theme that is fast growing tiresome: "Men Bad. Women Good."

Can one feign passion?

Good question.



Lacking wit or imagination
Having the style or diction of prose; lacking poetic beauty.
Commonplace; unromantic.



Born May 1, 1907
Died June 17, 1986


Born May 1 1918
Died Jan. 27, 2004



Nothing great in the world has ever been accomplished without passion.

--Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel


  1. Damn, Gene! Until you planted a photo of Jack Paar here on your dispassionate website (Or are you an unpassionate fellow? And why the heck does this online dictionary not recognize the un-variety?). But back to Jack. I didn't realize he lived so long a life. Must have been all that passionate crying he did in front of the camera. I liked the Paar man well enough back in the day. You know, the vulnerable MAN before men were allowed to be vulnerable. And although I can't recall any specific conviction he expressed, he impressed me as a shade to the left of the Prosaic Tribe of white guys, if not exactly poetic. So why did you post his photo here? Just a matter of date, or do you hold certain passionate convictions about Jack Paar? And have I managed to piss you off enough by filling up your Internet Cloud Space -- which is a lot like buying a condominium when you think about it -- with my blather that you might detect the beginning of a passionate rumble in your belly? And cheesus, Kate Smith was one big mama! Love, AVT

    1. Ah well, Anthony, I must report to you that the rumble in my belly stems from an overly peppered breakfast of 5 small batter-fried fish fillets, not from passion.

      Thanks for the thought provoking comments.