I approached the 4am night cashier, one of these giant Appalachian bigboys with a head like about two prize-winning melons. It was clear from the far-off, deeply embedded, almost catatonic but yet still antisocial non-gleam in his eyes, and perhaps also subconsciously from the prized melon head and unconcerned dominance of his at least 6'3" and Wideload mass, that the displaced farm-hand would have zero manners.
Hey and hello wouldn't affect him, for example. And when I said "Have a nice night," with real jauntiness and sincerity, the simple words probably irritated him bc he was halfway through a midnight shift. He replied "Yep." It was also clear he was practiced at saying "yep."
(Later, while philosophizing):
Emojis may in their soul or origin be kin to the modern mechanical robot birdie speech, which I regard as perhaps my chief ruminative irritation, and suffer when driving or listening to NPR or that sort of mindless, antisocial task. The Language of the Birds, you could say or weakly mutter or opine, is my premier object of focused, regular contempt. And of my clean, Baptist disappointment. This contemporary mode of at least American speech I struggle to describe in a concise and efficient way in order to match its agonizing, inescapable, energy-sapped demonic energy. "The NPR Talk," which---i suspect I'm one of the few deeply pensive public intellectuals who's realized and then's brave enough to state---derives from an essentially feminine or LGBTQ+ style or tradition of speech. Also there may be other verbal-linguistic influences at play here, but are too tedious to describe, and ok, i confess may also betray hints of shall we say, stereotypical Israelite modes of speech. This observation or response to leitmotifs does not make me a Nazi, mind you.
In my furtive interpretation, Emojis and NPR-talk are, Perhaps regardless of their gray conceptual origin, based on an actual or basic Fear of being an outsider, and not understood. Fear of non-conformity. Or even a desperate thirst for conformity. The despair we feel about other ppl not caring, or bc of their attention span and egotism or narcissism, not listening to us fully, long enough to understand our gibbety bits of text and rudely-formed sentence gibberish. Whenever I hear my bullied, weak-spirited country-folk talk like robot starlings with that awful, scripted cadence, intonation, and vocal fry, I can only think of evil science fiction programs.
All of this is relayed to you with a sense of humanity, tolerance and universal forgiveness. So Merry Christmas.
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