Zombievsky

Rather than spend thirty minutes listing out some painfully awkward bio for myself, just know that I'm an underachieving English Major who loves Jesus. I'll try to add a dash of facetiousness, in-depth observations at random, and opinionated ranting.

"Read this blog or I'll crawl out of my grave and shave my beard in your bed whilst you sleep!"

When I was coming up through public school, I wondered often why I was being made to read "The Classics" and what exactly what was to be gained by reading these dusty old tomes? I was quite sure I could put off coming down with myopia, eating soft foods and habitually watching The Price Is Right, since that was sure to follow a of reading Hamlet. Now that I'm older and semi-wiser, I've realized what a great treasure trove has been left behind in the literary classics. I'm all for reading contemporary authors, but when some of the required reading in high-school and college consists of barely passable prose and the potent potables of poetry, I find myself wishing I had the writings of ole' in front of me. Take Dostoyevsky for example. No one has ever been able to replicate the genius of The Brothers Karamazov (A review of said piece to come at a later date) in a contemporary fashion. That's partly due to contemporary writing's skill level being slightly above that of a drunken hillbilly. It's also due to the fact that there hasn't been and won't be another Fyodor of that surname and ability. Obviously, there's only one variable we can control here that doesn't involve digging up Dostoyevsky's remains and cloning him. Kids and young adults need to read the hard stuff. Hell, adults need to read the hard stuff. Or better yet, we need to read more as a nation. But my pragmatism runs ahead of my stream of consciousness writing. I realize that many people are uncomfortable with the stuffy stereotypes, references to a benevolent creator, multi-syllable words, and what they consider "out of date" thinking. Seriously though. Are you really going to try to compare the works of Dickens, Dostoyevsky, and Austen against the likes of the ever-pedagogic Dan Brown, Stephanie Meyer, and Tom Clancy? That's like comparing an arboretum to a landfill. All of this whining is not to say talent doesn't exist today, it's just buried under all the contemporary, stale, existential sundries that are marketed to sell and further mash your brains to soup while inebriating your brain power with cliches in the contents of scrabble-friendly paragraphs.

I'm only griping for a paradigm shift in today's consideration of what makes for didactic reading. Maxim/Vogue/Reader's Digest/Twilight it ain't. The paradigm shift that calls for books that compel you to have paradigm shifts as you read them and slowly cogitate the masterpiece unfolding before you.

In other news; I rant a lot. I wonder about a lot of things.

1. Will there ever be another jam band as good as DMB?

2. Can France really be successful in banning the burqa?

3. Are suburbanites born without a patient part of their brains?

4. How's my laundry going to get done?

5. Would Jesus be happy with what I've accomplished for Him if He returned today?