folgha

I'll be going to the weekly poetry reading my department puts on. This brings me, through a logical process that shouldn't be too obscure, to the subject of pretense.

We are all pretentious bastards, down to the last and least of us. I am. You are, too; don't try to deny it, you'll just make yourself more of a liar than you already are.

I understand people railing against pretense; it annoys me, and if it annoys me, it ought to annoy you. Certain very good friends of mine rail against it. Our only problem with this is that we, being pretentious, become hypocritical when railing against it.

Admittedly, hypocriticism (and if it's not a word it ought to be, but this journal plays by the Warlord's English, so if I use it, it HAS to be a word, by default) is unavoidable. Still, that by no means means that we ought not to avoid it whenever we can. And I include myself in this as much as any of you.

But you still need to get off of your high horses. Pretense is pretense, whether it comes from a stiff in suit and tie or a buxom inked-and-pierced beauty or a sunken-eyed scholar or a muscle-bound idiot.

If you like it not, that's your problem. No one is forcing you to read this.

But I am dead right.