Thursday, February 21, 2008

Inviting Yet Fruitless

(Post 15)

I just had a hollow experience. I attended an activity where food was provided (likely as an incentive to improve attendance). Amongst the table's insentivery chief weaponry were gourmet crackers with ranch dip, grapes of two varieties, orange juice, and a twinkling gem: pastries of some wonderful nature or another, glazed with gleaming sugar, and most temptingly oozing apple or raspberry filling from every crevice. I excitedly took one of each kind, found a corner free of distractions that might take from the experience, and lovingly lifted the apple pastry to my salivating taste tester. I placed the treat delicately between my teeth and applied pressure slowly, so as to extend the sensation of watering my tongue with sugary fruit goodness.


The expected flavor bomb never arrived. I began to chew vigorously and discovered that what should have been a masterfully crafted vehicle packed full of natural (but chemically enhanced for preservation) gifts for the nerve-endings in my tongue was nothing more than a thinly breaded carpool of the gasses that make up air. It was as a fig tree full of leaves but barren of fruit. (Fig tree's produce fruit before leaves… seeing leaves on a fig tree means you can expect ripe fruit).


After the crash of disappointment I looked at my raspberry pastry. "Little raspberry manna-cake," I thought to the sister of the sinful apple hypocrite, "your counterpart must have surely been a dud. You most certainly will not fail me. Not with such beauty in your figure and promise in your eyes… or icing in their absence." So I popped the raspberry pastry into my mouth. More disappointing than the first, this air pocket gave a hint and promise of forthcoming flavor that vanished with the breeze generated by the air escaping it.


I was crushed. But I yet could not believe that what I had sampled was the standard for all the beckoning desserts upon the table, so I ate four more. Whited sepulchers, all of them. It was like watching the food channel, but worse. Everything you see looks amazing and you wish that you could reach into the screen and pull out a sample. Well in this case you can, but when you bite into it you find that cable can't broadcast substance (which may be true in more senses than this one).


I'm fairly certain that the heinous company that made these tempting little heart breakers isn't going to make it through Armageddon. Particularly considering that the amount of residue that the filling on the OUTSIDE of the pastry left on the box they came in was greater than the filling occupying the centers of these great and spacious baked buildings.

So, I have some parallels to draw and re-reference; morals to extend; and lists to number:

  • One: Don't be like a Pharisee… you don't want to end up like the cursed fig tree.
  • Two: Sin is like a bad pastry. It tempts one with much, and leaves him with no fruit fillings. The more one places it in his mouth because he thinks it'll be better this time, the fewer flavors he'll have in life, along with a continued longing for the realization of never to be fulfilled promises.
  • Three: A handful of God's own good grapes can make the world right when all joy has vanished.

-Schlange

~ Sunday, February 24, 2008 ~

The meaning beyond the satire.
(Stop here if you just wanted to read a rant about pastries. If you're looking for more substance click here. Also
Schmetterling's post on The Eccentric Sage links this post to another fellow's post for the sake of making an interesting point. I recomend that you check it out.)

3 comments:

Schmetterling said...

Um. This may shock you, but I'm almost certain that this is, by a pretty substantial margin, the best writing you have posted thus far--I'm at least as certain of this as I can be without reviewing the previous 14 posts. And (more important that that) it isn't just the best thing you've published on this blog: this is, in fact, some very fine writing by any standard.

It's too late in the day for me to draw any specific examples (though I will gladly do so some other time if you like), but you've really struck something here. Maybe those little pastries got your dander up, or maybe your mental juices were just flowing really well tonight, or maybe all that programming has got you in such a state of brain drain that your true essence is leaking freely--I don't know what caused it, but this is good stuff. It's even better than what you wrote about writing good.

See, when you wrote about writing good (this is where examples would be handy, but I am, as I implied earlier, too tired to do anything so thorough), you were really focusing on writing smart--you borrowed my English Usage Dictionary, you chose your words carefully, and I imagine that you typed very slowly. The end result was--pretty good, but it had a slow, deliberate feel, like you were trying to impress somebody with the way you were saying what you had to say. This post reads more like you had passion roiling inside of you that you managed to bridle, saddle, and ride like the wind. I don't know that you typed this furiously--the fact that is has one typo says that you didn't proofread neurotically but that you didn't type mindlessly, either. [And, no, I WON'T tell you where the typo is; you might fix it, and then I'll look like a fool in this comment for mentioning a typo that isn't there anymore!]

This is what writing is really about--especially on a blog. I read this and I think, "Man, I bet he had a lot of fun writing this because I'm having a lot of fun reading it." The greatest part, though, is that, even though it's fun, it makes a good point--and that, my dear Schlange, is the hardest line in the world to walk.

Jason L Secrest said...

I now enjoy the humor and irony of reporting that I have removed the typo from "...cable can't broadcast substance (which may be true in more senses that this one)." The humor and irony comes in that I reread this post while it as of yet had no comments on it. I spotted the typo, fixed it, and refreshed just in time to spot your extreemly gratifying comment. Thank you for the praise, and you're welcome for preserving your good name with the acknowlegement of errors in previous editions.

Schmetterling said...

Three-and-a-half-years belated followup: You're very welcome. By the way, this post is still fantastic.