You’ve come into possession of one vial of truth serum. Who would you give it to (with the person’s consent, of course) — and what questions would you ask?
A truth serum have I,
That you might choose to take or not.
(I need your consent.)
But then you’d have to trust,
That what you confess would not be repeated
Or would you rather
Sign a disclaimer,
That what’s said under the influence,
is practically inadmissible
In court or elsewhere.
The questions I would ask then
Are neither here nor there.
“I would have written a shorter letter, but I did not have the time.” — Blaise Pascal.
Where do you fall on the brevity/verbosity spectrum?
If I could say what I want to say—in fewer words—,I’d do it in a jiffy.
If I could sketch,I’d provide a picture.
Writing less needs more thought.
Your blog is about to be recorded into an audiobook. If you could choose anyone — from your grandma to Samuel L. Jackson — to narrate your posts, who would it be?
Who would read my posts aloud
To an audience who cares?
I’d seek first the audience,
And then who cares?
It could be me,
Or it could be a Hollywood superstar.
But I’d want them to be there first for me.
WordPress dashboard interface (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
You’re sitting at a café when a stranger approaches you. This person asks what your name is, and, for some reason, you reply. The stranger nods, “I’ve been looking for you.” What happens next?
(Thanks for this intriguing prompt idea, Jazzy4God&grace!)
The stranger says, “I’m from the planet Zod and I need you to respond to the Daily Prompt from WordPress for a full year—for us.”
The Prisoner’s Dilemma (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Can you keep a secret? Have you ever — intentionally or not — spilled the beans (when you should’ve stayed quiet)?
What’s a secret between friends,
If the secret’s only in abeyance,
By one party or the other.
It makes no difference,
It’s just another prisoner’s dilemma.
And a case of bad cop, good cop,
Played all over.
For the other party’s at fault is the claim.
And you ask, ‘How else could they have known?”
An ill-kept secret is no mystery at all.
And a confidence that benefits one,
But causes the other immense harm,
Is not a pact,
But a travesty.
We’ve all had exchanges where we came up with the perfect reply — ten minutes too late. Write down one of those, but this time, make sure to sign off with your grand slam (unused) zinger.
A perfect riposte,
A ripping rejoinder,
A tart retort.
Something that’ll make their feet melt
Back into the clay they come from.
That’s what we seek,
Looking to come off better—not bitter.
Enders Island in 2009. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Always having the last word and the last laugh.
But are all battles to be won?
Aren’t some words just better off left unsaid?
Isn’t it better to concede a point,
Than never to talk ever again?
End of discussion.
Congrats — you’ve been handed a robot whose sole job is to relieve you of one chore, job, or responsibility you particularly hate. What is it?
(Thanks, Daniela, for suggesting a similar prompt!)
The robot will relieve me of the tedium of responding to and posting comments on WordPress sites and other blogs.
Comments are recommended to drive traffic to one’s website and interact with the blogging community as large.
But it really does not make sense to comment if your remark does not provide any fresh insight or inform the blogger what particularly struck you about his or her post. General comments are just that—generally useless and unhelpful.
An insightful observation takes as much thought and effort as a blog post.
However, it can be a huge chore.
Now, if I could have a robot that would personalise comments and provide wonderful insights, I would take it any day.
It would leave me free to focus on the core, that is, the blogging per se.
That is a huge ask and I have a small budget. So for now, I will make do with commenting occasionally and at specific times of the day.
How? Have a look at the Contacts widget of my site—if you care.
Destiny Step (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Take a look at your bookcase. If you had enough free time, which book would be the first one you’d like to reread? Why?
Reasons to re-read books,
lying on my shelf,
Neither mouldy nor dusty!
You give me a good reason why
And maybe I’ll take a peek,
And the reasons cannot be,
My reasons why
—repetitively me, repetitive you.
Keeping me busy,entangled, embroiled,
In a sordid little drama.
Then, a salubrious environment,
In which to peruse them.
Then,my friend, we can both benefit,
From words of the wordy wise.
(Posted today because Hathway, my internet provider, dropped my connectivity last evening and most of today.)
Replica of the teddy 55PB of Steiff (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Have you ever named an inanimate object? (Your car? Your laptop? The volleyball that kept you company while you were stranded in the ocean?) Share the story of at least one object with which you’re on a first-name basis.
What’s in a name? A rose, by any other name, is still a rose.
The volleyball that kept me company while I was stranded in the ocean?
That would be a tall tale, indeed.
Naming inanimate objects?
Hmm…Now that’s something I have never done.
But I can imagine the urge, the need to possess, to even converse with those everyday things that are almost extensions of ourselves.
We are all used to christening dolls or soft toys such as teddy bears. It is but natural for a kid to personify these childhood relics.
But inanimate objects? An appellation’s fine for a plane, a boat, a painting or even a race car.
I am not one to give people pejorative nick-names. So why label things?
Perhaps , it might help me recall where things are placed should earmark them so–sort of a memory aid.
What do you think or feel?
I guess this story will have to wait until I make it a habit to brand things so.