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Greatness

greatness
Edward Ruscha:
Angry Because It's Plaster, Not Milk (1965)
©Edward Ruscha, Fair Use


"Thank you for your patience."


My Greatness must have evolved in me, for I was not born Great or, indeed, born to Greatness. I believe that something, not Greatness, was, however, inborn in me that helped me achieve what nobody who knew me then would have foreseen as my emerging Greatness. The preconditions must have been there, however unnoticed, because leopards never change their spots. Nobody knows how leopards first acquired their spots, only that once possessed, they're never lost. I suspect that Greatness carries a similar distinction because it knows no comeuppance. Once emerged, it's present. Once noticed, it's no longer tacit. It becomes the defining attribute of anyone who owns it, though some insist that Greatness owns its incumbents. Either way, I say it's Great to experience Greatness. Those who have never experienced their own Greatness couldn't possibly understand. Whatever Greatness anyone who's not Great ever notices isn't even distantly related to what that one with genuine Greatness experiences. I'm shocked when anyone even mentions my Greatness, for how could they possibly know of what they speak? True Greatness comes through suggestion: the great must introduce themselves to the unwashed. Some insist that Greatness is exclusively a function of auto-suggestion, though I strenuously disagree, as would anybody possessing the Greatness pedigree.

I'm impressed with how language evolves out from under even its strictest adherents.
Those with advanced degrees in, for instance, English lose their language over time, just like any five-and-dime-store user. Eventually, anyone sticking to their training must become incomprehensible and seem absurd like those who still employ "far out" and "groovy" do today. Those terms were once the very crown of our evolving language, employed by the avant guarde who were shoving the boundaries of proper usage out and into an ever Greater unknown. Since then, whole dialects have emerged that nobody still submerged in any older propriety can make heads or tails out of. Perhaps more prominent is the style of languaging employed by a certain ex-president who's presently running for office. While past candidates carefully chose their words, this one exclusively communicates via what many more traditional speakers refer to as word salad. While past candidates attempted to appeal to even the lowliest common denominator, this one tries to appeal to nobody but himself. He willfully offends everyone more traditional politicians would have co-dependently relied upon. I, for instance, understand not a thing he says. If you think you do, you definitely don't.

But then, I am an exemplar of a Greatness not even the odd ex-president typically experiences. Political notoriety can be bought and sold. Greatness carries no price tag. It lends permission for anyone possessing the Greatness gene to do anything he damned well wants to do, for such Greatness always was above the law. The sole law governing Greatness is Greatness itself, for Greatness, true Greatness, was always self-referential. I call this the paradox of Greatness, but then most Greatness exists beyond reason, far beyond reasoning. You ask the reason why this must be the case? I refuse to explain for two excellent reasons. First, True Greatness was always inexplicable. Second, you wouldn't understand even if I explained until we were both blue in the face. Only Greatness ever understands Greatness. Get over it!

When someone claims to be capable of reclaiming a lost Greatness, it's clear to anyone familiar with Greatness that the claimer offers a false premise. The nature of Greatness could never include losing some of itself, for Greatness only comes in positively evolving forms. Greatness has always been capable of getting even greater, but it was never even once seen to diminish or erase. Once Great, only ever Greater remains possible. Greatness was always incapable of degrading. Therefore, reclaiming Greatness could only be pursued by someone not exhibiting it. It must be the weasel words of a real weasel, one who believes they can masquerade as the genuine article. Many must be fooled because of the general intransigence that true Greatness always fields. It has no reverse gear in its transmission. It can only move forward toward ever Greater, toward ever greater Greatness.

I try to dabble in the new grammar but inevitably fail. My failure might be prima facie evidence of my underlying Greatness, for my Greatness always was eternal, just like every other. It's impossible that it might turn out to be something other than eternal later. Still, this new language pattern might well prove to be next to impossible for even me to master, even for someone as admittedly as Great as I am. I will not be shy about defending myself and have obviously dedicated myself to at least trying to at least appear to master the disconnected stream of semi-consciousness that exemplifies this new language form. I could make some reference here to The Singing Nun as an example of precisely what I mean. Dominique inique inique … you know the rest and easily sense its profound significance. Thank you for your patience. It's been Greatness!

©2024 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved






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