Black Ink

By Cyberquill 03/09/201116 Comments

You are my favorite visitor.

Absent nonverbal clues, you have no way of knowing whether I’m being sincere, sarcastic, affectionately teasing, polite in a perfunctory way, or none of the above.

As written and in isolation, “You are my favorite visitor” could mean you are my absolute favorite visitor, my least favorite visitor, that I’m just goofing around, or anything in between.

During an acting class, a teacher of mine once opened a play to a random page, held it up, and asked what this was. Student responses ranged from “a play” to “a scene from a play” to “a page in a play.”

The correct answer? Black ink.

Marlon BrandoThe line “Please take a seat,” for instance, can be rendered as if to say “Please stay” or “Please leave” or as an ex post facto reprimand for a guest who has plunked himself on the sofa prior to having been invited to do so. Divorced from an actor’s delivery, “Please take a seat”—or any other line for that matter—reduces to meaningless ink on a page. Besides delivery, context figures as well: a guy who screams “STELLA!!!!” at the top of his lungs may desire his wife Stella to appear on the balcony or his wife Lucy to get him another beer. In terms of overall meaning, the words proper clock in a paltry third on the relevance meter, yet the words are all there is on a written page.

In face-to-face communication, we derive a significant portion of meaning from nonverbal clues such as tone of voice, facial expressions, and body language. Calculating the precise percentage sounds tricky due to the confluence of several seemingly unquantifiable factors, but psychology professor Albert Mehrabian crunched some data and devised his 7%-38%-55% rule, which states that words account for 7%, tone of voice for 38%, and body language and facial expressions for 55% of the information we absorb during facetime interaction.

Lest his findings be misinterpreted as suggesting that all face-to-face communication is 93% nonverbal, Mr. Mehrabian cautions thus:

Please note that this and other equations regarding relative importance of verbal and nonverbal messages were derived from experiments dealing with communications of feelings and attitudes (i.e., like-dislike). Unless a communicator is talking about their feelings or attitudes, these equations are not applicable.

Albert Mehrabian

Albert Mehrabian

So the 7%-38%-55% rule applies primarily to statements tinged or suffused with feelings and attitudes, less so to strictly academic lectures, utterances along the lines of making or confirming appointments, or declarations which can be subjected to objective verification such as “Today is Sunday” or “The Dow dropped another ten points before closing,” where the speaker is either correct, misinformed, or lying through his fillings.

Bottom line, when it comes to conveying attitudinal information, it is the sound that makes the music. Rent asunder from delivery, statements like “I hate you” or “You suck” don’t mean much, as the subtlest smirk or mock exaggeration in tone will do a 180 on the literal—or, in the latter case, the conventionally figurative—meaning of these words in a flash. And depending on how you say it, “Have a great vacation” could mean precisely that or be code for “I hope you’ll get ripped to shreds by a great white.”

A while ago, I received this cryptic message in my Facebook inbox:

I don’t know this individual, and sans nonverbals, his message amounts to no more than a bunch of multibiguous black pixels on a screen. The same, of course, would apply if the message read “You’re wonderful” or “I love you,” statements whose meanings are equally (i.e., entirely) delivery-dependent.

Just yesterday, a blogger replied to a comment of mine:

impeccable logic, cyberquill

Again, without at least a tone of voice, I cannot glean with anything approaching certainty from these pixels whether that blogger considers my logic impeccable or grossly flawed.

By their very nature, written statements provide the words only. Ergo, not the speaker but the recipient must supply the nonverbals by essentially imagining—a process which, more often than not, occurs as a matter of subconscious reflex rather than deliberate reflection—how these words would have been delivered in a facetime situation. If a written message contains feelings and attitudes—including humor, wet or dry, or any ever so bumbling attempt at such, as opposed to, say, a legal text or a letter from an insurance company—the reader, in effect, becomes its primary author by generating up to 93% of its meaning, whereas the writer furnished as little as 7%, namely the words.

It follows that written messages are Rorschach tests of sorts, which afford a much larger window into the reader’s associative infrastructure and neurological wiring than into the mindscape of the wordsmith. Therefore, if we sustain a strong emotional reaction to the ink on the page or the pixels on the screen, we predominantly react to our own creation, i.e., we react to ourselves. Thus, when we receive a written message or comment and get a sense that the person who sent it has “issues” of one sort or another, we may indeed be confronting our own issues.

Psychology teaches that we tend to react most strongly to those qualities we detect (or believe to detect) in others which we most strongly resent about ourselves. If other people’s messiness really gets under your skin, chances are you harbor a disorganized streak that you’re having trouble coming to terms with, and it manifests in hypersensitivity to all things disorderly. If the mere mention of the names Hitler and Stalin sets your blood boiling, it likely indicates that you yourself entertain disquieting Endlösung fantasies regarding those (such as Republicans, for example) whom you regard as intransigent road blocks to realizing your vision of a Shangri-La on planet Earth. Naturally, projecting precisely such aspects of ourselves into others is particularly tempting when ninety-plus percent of their meaning is left to us determine.

Of course, we may conjecture correctly and the nonverbals we fabricate in our own heads reflect the writer’s attitude to a T.

Or they may not.

One of the main characters in Tennessee Williams’s A Streetcar Named Desire, which I referenced a few paragraphs ago, is named Blanche. Blanche DuBois. The name itself is irrelevant except it recalls to my mind a textbook example of the 7%-38%-55% rule in action:

Vivien Leigh

Blanche Dubois

I do not know nor have I ever conversed with a sizable plurality of the individuals on my Facebook “Friends” list. Sending and accepting friend requests and then forgetting about them is part of the MO on a social networking site—like that broiler infomercial: “You set it and forget it!” Periodically, though, I scroll through my Facebook “News Feed,” and sometimes I leave little comments on other people’s posts or status updates.

So one of the strangers on my friends list—let’s call her Maureen—posted a status update to the effect that she was “having lunch with Blanchie to celebrate Blanchie’s last day as an intern.” I figured I’d say hi, so I replied that I was sorry to hear Blanchie had been such a horrible intern that her departure gave grounds for celebration.

As happens with some frequency in consequence of my typing something into a Facebook comment window and hitting the Send button, within a few minutes I noticed my friends count had diminished by one. Oh well. Lost another friend to Ditech. But since I was in my playful mode, I took the liberty to contact Maureen and request an explanation as to her motivation for having slammed the virtual door into my face. To her credit, she promptly complied:

You’re obnoxious and mean. Simple as that.

Simple indeed, and the defendant (me) may well be both.

The question, though, is how did Maureen manage to clap together with such promptitude so comprehensive a psychological profile based on one sentence that could easily have been construed at least two different ways—bona fide obnoxion twinned with meanitude being one, and innocuous silliness being the other?

I suppose Maureen would have been equally precipitous in branding me “polite and charming” had I wished Blanchie and her a delightful lunch, yet ohne (German for sans) nonverbals, how would she have known that this ostensibly cordial comment wasn’t dripping with genuine sarcasm (i.e., that it didn’t mean “I wish Blanchie and you choke on your shrimp”) and hence signified a much higher degree of malice than my goofy comment about Blanchie being a horrible intern which, I contend, contained no malice whatsoever?

Another individual, upon unfriending me, sent me this in response to my replying to an update of hers:

You have serious issues. Why friend me and then be a jerk?

I don’t recall exactly what I had written that inspired her to dissolve our budding Facebook friendship—I think she had wished everyone a “happy Friday” and I had asked whether her wish would expire on Friday at midnight or whether I could have a happy weekend as well—but here we have a typical diagnosis of “issues” where it is difficult to tell whether she was referring to my issues or to her own as a result of having projected a certain set of nonverbals into my words even though alternative readings would have been possible, as I rarely reap such diagnoses when I deliver these kinds of comments in person. On balance, I find that people react more aggressively when I deliver them in writing, for then it is they, not I, who add the soundtrack to my words.

Art Markman, PhD, put it this way in Psychology Today:

One reason why emails can cause so much trouble, is because it is easy for people to misinterpret the tone in an email and take seriously something that was meant as a joke. In a normal conversation, it is easy to look at a speaker and get a sense of whether he meant a comment to be taken seriously, but in an email or text that information just isn’t available.

From an evolutionary perspective, of course, it makes perfect sense that we incline to err on the side of being attacked if the words on the page or screen lend themselves to multiple interpretations depending on the nonverbals we imagine to accompany those words, for back in our olden days in the African Savannah, giving others—strangers in particular—the benefit of the doubt may have resulted in our heads ending up on a stick.

Vorsicht ist die Mutter der Porzellankiste, as they say in France.

Have a beautiful day!

Tags: ,

Print This Post Print This Post

Terms Of Use

  • http://andreaskluth.org/ Andreas

    good post. One of my favorite subjects: the meaning of words as understood by issuer and recipient, and the gulf yawning between.

    Quit funny, too. I can see how Facebook is not your medium.

    As an aside, (as a journalist who was one of the first to cover Facebook way back when), I increasingly think that Facebook is not ANYBODY’s medium (where “anybody” means anybody sophisticated). I give them another year before they decline (where “decline” = MySpace trajectory, ie not necessarily in numbers, but in coolness)

    • http://blog.cyberquill.com Cyberquill

      Everything loses its coolness once it attains a certain degree of popularity, for then not being part of it becomes the cool thing to be. I’d make a few changes to Facebook if I were running the place, but otherwise I sort of like it for what it is.

      MySpace killed itself by providing way too many customization options. You clicked on someone’s profile, music started blaring, the screen turned ugly (like pink dots on yellow background) and then froze, because the person had posted 5,000 YouTube clips and they were all loading at the same time. (They’ve been trying to improve this aspect about the site several times since, but I don’t think the folks in charge quite get it.)

      The nice thing about Facebook is its relative simplicity and structural uniformity, although I find their most recent structural design change to have been a big de-improvement.

  • Tschiria

    Geez! I’m a bit shattered concerning this epic „comment“ of mine!

    But since I cultivate quite a special connection with words and generally with “communication“ – I could not restrain myself.

    You are my favorite visitor.

    Absent nonverbal clues, you have no way of knowing whether I’m being sincere, sarcastic, affectionately teasing, polite in a perfunctory way, or none of the above.

    I bet, though, in virtual reality you’d never express such a sentence without having a certain relationship with this „You“, would you? I actually assume that such a disclosure would never occur without a certain context explaining thus – at least to a certain degree – its (sincere, sarcastic or whatever) meaning.

    One cannot not communicate, as Paul Watzlawick says. And one can not communicate devoid of an outer frame, a relationship. Due to Watzlawick each communication consists of two aspects – the aspect of the content and of the relationship, whereas the latter determines the former.

    That means, due to this model the content of a message conveys the data, the relation between the sender and the recipient instructs how this message is to be understood.

    Thus I think the relationship between you and the other gives (or at least should give) the clue how the above message „You are my favorite visitor.“ should be interpreted.

    Likewise, I consider it’s improbable to voice „I hate you“ or „I love you“ into a vacuum of void; there is always a certain frame or a coherence (Zusammenhang) wherein such kind of deep emotional revelations are put.

    Regarding your mentioning being potentially „sarcastic“ I’d like to add that I account (too) sarcastic remarks even in the face-to-face-world as „thorny“ (enough) – in the virtual world, though, sarcasm seems even more contraproductive to me.

    At this point I’d like to get on to the classical netiquette-rule from the very beginnings of the interwebs – the rule that says:

    „Beware of Humor and Sarcasm!“
    ‘Since these attitudes may provoke misconceptions and could come across as condescending or rude in consequence of the missing facial expressions and gestures. So at least, mark your sarcastic remarks f.i. with emoticons.’

    (Even though I don’t like the word „etiquette“ too much [kinda evokes the image of an uniform] I find the netiquete’s rules pretty ok since they try to eliminate conflict potential in virtual communications as effectively as possible.)

    You are my favorite cyberspace.
    So – bottom line is, would I be the sender of this message, its context and the relation between the „You“ and the „Me“ would provide the indication regarding the intended message’s “interpretation mode”. And I’m cocksure that I’d like the „You“ to translate it literally.

    Particularly if feelings touch on something so exceptionally like „being favorite to someone“ I could never imagine faking or playing with its verbal manifestation.

    In terms of overall meaning, the words proper clock in a paltry third on the relevance meter, yet the words are all there is on a written page.
    I absolutely concur with you.
    And since this paltry quantity is all that is on hand it requires a certain amount of empathy and familiarity between the „sender“ and the „recipient“ as for to „turn a string of words into the mind of someone else and into a non-verbal reality“ (that refers to the face-to-face-world as well, but is badly tightened in the virtual one).

    For that reason, particularly between complete strangers in the virtual reality who are not familiar with each other’s language patterns or each other’s special humor yet, conversing literally and expressing oneself as unambiguously as possible seems to be the more constructive (even if not [„wenn auch nicht“] always the easiest) way.

    […] psychology professor Albert Mehrabian crunched some data and devised his 7%-38%-55% rule, which states that words account for 7%, tone of voice for 38%, and body language and facial expressions for 55% of the information we absorb during facetime interaction.

    As an aside: This correlates well with the pretty interesting assertion that it is sympathy resp. antipathy, that decides finally upon or against a job candidate – but not his expert knowledge.

    I find, Mehrabian’s overall result shows quite impressionably the significance of the non-verbal aspects of an interaction. Regarding the scientific side of the experiment and its devised percentage-rule, though, I’m a bit sceptic. I deem the rule a trifle too generalizing and neglecting a few important (communication) factors *.
    (I hope I do not sound patronisingly in your ears with this comment – but this study dates back to the Sixties / Seventies, so it is simply no wonder that some further developments in the area of communication have been rolling out since then. By all means, this communication rule gives a good overview.)

    (If you are interested in and should not know about yet, you’ll find on the following site some information about Mehrabian’s method of crunching the data:
    http://changingminds.org/explanations/behaviors/body_language/mehrabian.htm)

    //
    * Don‘t wanna be too offtopic, just in short:
    For instance I rate the communication square model by F. Schulz von Thun quite plausible. It says that each message contains four subtexts: an information, a relationship-side (Beziehungsseite), a self-disclosure (Selbstoffenbarung) and an appeal.

    Mehrabian’s digit-rule overlooks in my eyes, that different people prioritize different „square sides“ in different situations. So, f.i., a softly spoken „nice“ in the experimental field situation can be understood on different levels of relevance and is not just a factor to be contributed to the intonation’s digit.

    A while ago, I received this cryptic message in my Facebook inbox:

    I don’t know this individual, and sans nonverbals, his message amounts to no more than a bunch of multibiguous black pixels on a screen.

    This remark of yours I find extremely striking and astounding. Sure, this message is sans nonverbals, but definitely not without (emotional) context. If I had gotten such a crass and inconceivable pm I would fail all along the line to decode it as just a „bunch of multibiguous black pixels on a screen“.

    On the contrary, I’d safely receive primarily the message’s „relationship-side“, followed by this guy’s „self-disclosure“ and try to figure out pretty instantly

    (a) in which way are we connected and
    (b) what is the underlying motive of him to be that flaming towards me.

    I like your conduct in this precise situation very much, your capability to just take in the objective raw material and grasp it rigorously as sheer black ink.

    The same, of course, would apply if the message read “You’re wonderful” or “I love you”, statements whose meanings are equally (i.e., entirely) delivery-dependent.

    End of the year 2010 personal messages were circulating among Facebook – of the content „I love you“. (And providing a link in the bottom of the mail.) Since these messages were doubtlessly just scam mails, their context / or as you said the delivery was evident – so it was no problem for me as well to conceive these messages just as „nothing more than a bunch of multibiguous black pixels on a screen“.

    Just yesterday, a blogger replied to a comment of mine:

    impeccable logic, cyberquill

    Again, without at least a tone of voice, I cannot glean with anything approaching certainty from these pixels whether that blogger considers my logic impeccable or grossly flawed.

    Your prior discussion did not give you a hint at how the meaning of this blogger‘s remark is to be understood by you?

    Actually, without not knowing at all what you have been talking about, I „viscerally“ / immediately was thinking, take his remark literally.

    For once, why assuming he couldn‘t be sincere with you? (For to repeat my above aired netiquette – „Beware of humor and sarcasm.“ – When in doubt, for the accused, as it were.)

    Then, because I (and you) know very well how thoroughly thought-out and structured your logic can be processed. So, why should this blogger not have perceived this very same impression as well?

    And provided, that prior to that comment there was no „awkward“ or tricky moment disturbing your communication, I do not see any reason f0r any doubt regarding this comment‘s purport.

    By their very nature, written statements provide the words only.
    Ergo, not the speaker but the recipient must supply the nonverbals by essentially imagining—a process which, more often than not, occurs as a matter of subconscious reflex rather than deliberate reflection—how these words would have been delivered in a facetime situation.

    If a written message contains feelings and attitudes—including humor, wet or dry, or any ever so bumbling attempt at such, as opposed to, say, a legal text or a letter from an insurance company—the reader, in effect, becomes its primary author by generating up to 93% of its meaning, whereas the writer furnished as little as 7%, namely the words.

    I agree with you that much of the written message’s subtext is influenced by the reader’s mind/background.

    (Or, as one of my favorite quotations by Anaïs Nin reads:
    We don‘t see things as they are, we see them as we are.)

    And still I think, the writer who wants to make himself understood and reach his reader’s mind has to exercise a mite more accountability than just to furnish words – f.i. the endeavor of empathy, of trying to figure out how his messages and subtextes will come across.

    For instance, while I’m writing this (increasingly over-expanding as I‘m afraid) epistle I’m twist-turning almost every phrase or term, knocking expressions off any possible veil – especially so you may understand my lines – and its subtexts – at best, and for not to trigger any inadvertent „knickers in the twist“ in you. (Sadly, though, one can never be really sure that the intended „content“ will really reach the other’s synapses as desired.)

    Thus, when we receive a written message or comment and get a sense that the person who sent it has “issues” of one sort or another, we may indeed be confronting our own issues.

    Psychology teaches that we tend to react most strongly to those qualities we detect (or believe to detect) in others which we most strongly resent about ourselves.

    Yes, indeed. Particularly „anger“ is an exceptionally fantastic, almost infallible mirror of one‘s own deficits. I’ve always been intrigued by the anger’s reflections.

    Beyond (?) that I believe that one reacts most fervidly to these other person’s „qualities“ that do reopen deeply buried (or repressed) childhood-wounds.

    In this respect I’d like to cite another shrimp, Mr. Rosenberg, who I accidentally stumbled upon yesterday in an other context and who‘s been evolving the socalled „Language of Heart“:

    „Hinter jedem Konflikt, so seine Grundannahme, stehen unerfüllte Bedürfnisse, wie beispielsweise das Bedürfnis nach Wertschätzung, Respekt, Autonomie und Verständnis. Wird das jeweilige Bedürfnis erkannt, formuliert und vom Gegenüber verstanden, führt das laut Rosenberg zur Deeskalation.“

    My translation:
    Behind every conflict, so his axiom, there stand unsatisfied needs, like for instance the need for appreciation, respect, for autonomie and sympathy / comprehension. If the counterpart understands this need, a communication conflict can be deescalated.

    His approach calls for critisism as well (f.i. in performing in a too formalized way) but I like the overall approach of empathizing with the communication partner so that one may be able to fink out of old reaction patterns and may even be able to heal.

    Sending and accepting friend requests and then forgetting about them is part of the MO on a social networking site

    What, please, means „MO“? „Marketing organization“ 😕

    So one of the strangers on my friends list—let’s call her Maureen—posted a status update to the effect that she was “having lunch with Blanchie to celebrate Blanchie’s last day as an intern.” I figured I’d say hi, so I replied that I was sorry to hear Blanchie had been such a horrible intern that her departure gave grounds for celebration.

    Cyberquill, your „figuring to say hi“ and your performance in this regard I find quite hysterically funny :)

    Since I have the luck to „know“ you (your humor and your parlance f.i.) a wee bit, your airing „condolence“ in this matter was truly engendering a broad grin on my face!

    Yet fancing this stranger Maureen – it‘s no big job to imagine her being upset towards your flippant remark. I guesstimate, your sense of humor was a bit too bizarre for her, breaking her conventional understanding of an appropriate behavior in this very situation. And without knowing your personality it was just not possible for her to decipher your humor code.

    Maybe she was truly (a bit) sad about the intern‘s leaving. Then out of a clear blue sky a stranger, you, popped in just to address her in a (seemingly) negative undertone („horrible“) instead of being able to feel her affliction with her. Why do you dare to assume that her intern was horrible, she might have wondering indignantly?
    (Frankly, I‘m not quite sure if your intent was really just to „say hi“ t0 her.) 😮

    //
    yet ohne (German for sans) nonverbals
    It took me a little while to get your sudden german intermezzo 😮
    //

    Vorsicht ist die Mutter der Porzellankiste, as they say in France.

    Word!

    Worte haben die Kraft, zu zerstören oder zu heilen. Wenn Worte wahr und zugleich gütig sind, können sie unsere Welt verändern, as the Buddhist say.
    (Socrates had added yet the necessity – if words are not necessary / essential, do bury them.

    Have a beautiful day!
    The same for you, Cyberquill. And take good care daily about your Today!

    • http://blog.cyberquill.com Cyberquill

      MO stands for modus operandi, i.e., the way of doing something.

      Yes, unless one chooses to clutter one’s comments with acronyms such as “LOL” and various smiley faces, using humor and sarcasm online is generally a bad idea if one is planning to run for Mr. or Ms. Congeniality. Still, it is the reader that supplies the nonverbals.

      And I’m not “assuming” that blogger wasn’t sincere in calling my logic impeccable. He probably was. The point is, though, that without nonverbals, this remains up to me (the reader) to determine.

      Taking context and one’s personal relationship with the author into account certainly aids in determining the meaning of the ink on the page, but only insofar as doing so increases the odds of imagining correctly the nonverbals that go with the message.

      No matter how much and what kind of supplemental information is used as a baseline, it all boils down to the fact that in written communication, the reader must supply the nonverbals, for without nonverbals, all you have is black ink.

      • Tschiria

        if one is planning to run for Mr. or Ms. Congeniality
        That caused my Second Broad Grin of Today :)

        Taking context and one’s personal relationship to the writer into account certainly aids in determining the meaning of the ink on the page, but only insofar as doing so increases the odds of imagining correctly the nonverbals that go with the message.

        Why do you say “only”? What more could you wish as imagining correctly the nonverbals that go with the message?

        • http://blog.cyberquill.com Cyberquill

          Our relationship with the author of a written message is a clue to interpreting the ink correctly, but it’s only a clue. What more could I wish? A musical score that provides the pitch for each word would be helpful, so I could play the message on the piano to get a sense of what it’s supposed to sound like.

          • Tschiria

            Taking context and one’s personal relationship to the writer into account certainly aids in determining the meaning of the ink on the page, but only insofar as doing so increases the odds of imagining correctly the nonverbals that go with the message.

            Why do you say “only”?
            it’s only a clue

            Aha! That is sort of a good example of a literaly reversible figure (Kippfigur) 😮 Yesterday I did put my (mental) focus rather on your word string “increases […] correctly the nonverbals that go with the message”.

            Yes, that is only a clue. But a clue that can get more and more “real” with growing (communication) practice and familiarity.

            using humor and sarcasm online is generally a bad idea if one is planning to run for Mr. or Ms. Congeniality
            In this context here it’s not a question of “Mr. or Ms. Congeniality”. But of getting best comprehensibly one’s point into the recipient’s mind, so that he (the recipient) may construe the hidden face of Rorschach as appropriate as possible.

            What more could I wish? A musical score that provides the pitch for each word would be helpful, so I could play the message on the piano to get a sense of what it’s supposed to sound like.
            Now, I’m indeed a bit lost – quod erat demonstrandum 😮
            Have you been copping the needle in writing this response?

            (And, btw, since we hear at least with four different ears – not even a musical score would help you here.)

            • http://blog.cyberquill.com Cyberquill

              Composers of movie soundtracks must be delighted to learn that their labor is for naught because the audience is listening with at least four different ears.

            • Tschiria

              The direction of this exchange here is not as desired (by me) -- but “perfect” for the moment right now – and particularly one observation is really fascinating – the observation – almost exactly like by the book (fast wie aus dem Lehrbuch) – the observation how one part of us is always looking for the best in the absent (and not in the here & now) and how the other is engaged worrying about if resp. which way the “events” will sap him or herself (= wear you out).

              Solution: Concentrating on the contrary

  • Tschiria

    Cyberquill, I’m sorry -- but könntest Du bitte das verflixte -Tag korrekt schließen?

    :) Thank you!

  • Tschiria

    und dann natürlich beide letzte comments löschen!

  • Richard

    You have said all I could ever want to say on this topic but better and more comprehensively.

    Now I sound like spam, but I’m not.

    • http://blog.cyberquill.com Cyberquill

      You sound American.

      • Richard

        Thanx. Am soooo honored to be featured by you in Disqus . Wow.

  • buglet

    Impeccable logic (that, my friend, was dripping with sarcasm). Now, I’d hate to be a moron or something equally atrocious, but if people misconstrue your writing, why do you keep a blog?

    • http://blog.cyberquill.com Cyberquill

      Because not all people misconstrue it all of the time. Plus sometimes I simply feel like writing, and since the World Wide Web isn’t in any danger of running out of space anytime soon, I might as well publish my writings online, as opposed to keeping them locked away in a drawer, on the off-chance that one or the other surfer may find some of them intermittently entertaining or enlightening, perhaps in unforeseen ways. 

← Previous Post