My nonfiction piece “Prices of Translation” is included in Wanderlust’s 2019 travel anthology from Wild Dog Press. Order it here.
– improvisational reaction to a word received in my In Box from Dictionary.com
- Insincere speechmaking by a politician intended merely to please local constituents.
- Insincere talk; claptrap; humbug.
Au courant these words of the day senders are. Just a beautiful word. The dictionary has so many of them. And this is one. Insincere speechmaking by politicians is so present tense. Though it doesn’t require a great imaginative leap to think it’s always been that way. Even if what’s going on nowadays feels extraordinary. Past the point when putting out a little b.s. for the voters back in Buncombe County, North Carolina, or any county anywhere, would get much attention. It’s unlikely to get a roll of the eyes now, never mind a dictionary entry. Everyone’s doing it. The birds. The bees. Even educated fleas. So much so I’m thinking we may have crossed over into a post bunkum environment. We may be beyond bunkum. That’s right, your average dole of claptrap might be passé. Over with. We’re used to it like we’re used to wearing shoes. That’s all you got for me? Some puny insincere crap to try to trick me with? To distract me from the important stuff. Nevertheless, in these inglorious days if you’re not humbugging you’re probably on the other side of winning. Like those folks that work hard and pay taxes and obey the law. Who won’t reach out and grab a hunk of chocolate cake whenever they get the urge. There’s a lot of that going around. Not chocolate cake. We’re all done with those idyllic times when Kings and Queens would dispense some to the wider populace to keep them from raiding their palaces. And if not that, then to let them believe if they’re good obeying members of society eventually some will be on the way. But alas, there’s no going easy on we the people. Now the bigly chocolate cake eaters gorge themselves with impunity. They don’t even pretend to want to share. And they seem pretty sure we’re all right with that. Which suggests the time to storm the polling booths en masse is once again overdue.
My story “Encounters May Be Predicted” has been accepted for publication by Adelaide Literary Magazine.