8/19/2019 2009.11.05 Welcome to a Non Argument Cut Out

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 EDITORIAL O BSERVERS

OPINIONS Thursday, November 5, 2009

 Welcome to a non-argument Welcome to a non-argument. Welcome to Dada reborn.

In this article, I will refuse to

follow the artificial constructs of

the English language. Those evil

and wicked grammarians began

codifying what is right and wrong

in the 18th century. How dare they

arbitrate their will over me and

what they believe is right.

The rest of my editorial observer

will follow in a format that is nei-

ther grammatically nor stylistically

correct, consistent or standardized.I will do my best to break the rules

both of the Campus Times and

English that constrain writing

and thought to narrow channels

of limited creativity. I will write in

the way that I want.

There is a certain futility in writ-ing. A writer’s words and influence

diminish as time progresses. What

is written inevitably builds to a

greater body of thought. We’ve all

read novel arguments and news

worthy of opinion. What, then, is

contrary to an argument?This is more than a rejection of

grammar. It is a rejection of formal-

ity and propriety in writing. It is

up to you to extract what may be

any meaning. In fact, what follows

is mostly nonsense.

Beware the Grammarwock,

my son! The pens that scrathe.

The rules that bind, betwixt and

berave.

I drank syntax’s line. To lexicon

we are enslaved. Not his nor her,

but they. Me and you the other day,

leaving the preposition hanging as

it ought to be.

Challenge the norm. Do not be-lieve what I say. Symbolic patterns

have lost any meaning. Consistency

is worthless. Tradition is harmful.

Content is useless.

No one reads words anymore.

 All is forgotten. Writing can never

go as deep, or mean as much, asthought. I could never learn about

everything during my lifetime or in

infinity. Sound poetry is the descent

into nothing.

I am not here right now.

I repeat myself when under

stress. I repeat myself when understress. I repeat myself when under

stress. My head is talking and it’s

saying, “I’ve got nothing to say to

 you, so listen through my words

and find a truth that won’t soothe.

 We’re all revolving doors searching

for something new. But, nothing

comes out that’s never been said

before.”

Life is the apostrophe, ending

with a phrase. In the beginning

is my end, shifting and confused.

 Are you with me, or are you with

 you?

 You are afraid of growing old.

 You are afraid of dying.

 You are afraid of death.

 Your moral values are bankrupt.

 Avoid life’s questions. Thought is

subversive. What gets you through

life? That which brings you to

death?

I know what is good for you.

Defer to authority! Disconcertingdeference makes you a sycophant.

Twenty years of hard work may

amount to nothing. A life that is

empty will make the soul bleed. A

fear of emptiness will build its own

need. All your life is just noise, a

distraction from a void. Settle into alife of wearisome routine. One year,

10 years, 50 years, you’ll look in the

mirror and see that your parents

are still alive.

This is my writing. There is much

like it, but this is mine. Without me,

my writing is nothing. Without mywriting, I am nothing.

These words convey no meaning.

How does one write not to convey

any meaning? Even gibberish con-

veys intent.

Back to formality. All that is

hence is mostly nonsense. So is this

how the story ends?

Otis is a member of 

the class of 2011.

 ANDREW 

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