Serrated Prose

Picture it: Germany, 1932. Hitler gives a rousing speech about nationalism, rebuilding the crushed economy, putting people back to work, and, oh, it's the Jews' fault that things are in such a state. While running for office, Hitler privately told nervous parliament members that his rants about Jews were just to get the crowd riled up. He reassured them that he wasn't the mass-murdering bigot that he turned out to be. He lost the election, but was appointed as chancellor in 1933. Now, I know what you're thinking... well, pretty sure, anyway. You're thinking this is going to be another half-assed comparison to Donald Trump, right? And if you voted for the guy, you'll think I'm brainwashed (and possibly stop reading here). And if you didn't vote for the guy, you'll start getting that uncomfortable feeling of dread by holding the images of these two men in your mind at the same time. Well, rest assured, Trumpite, I'm not saying your man is the equ

I started this blog a while ago to get more accustomed to jotting down my thoughts. It's mostly a secret blog, which I understand is incredibly bizarre -- something essentially anonymous on the most public forum ever known. I also walk a fine line: I don't reveal too many personal details and certainly don't get overly introspective to the point of self-pity. But truth be told, self-pity was likely the catalyst for starting these blogs. For many years, I've wondered what the term "failed writer" meant. How could someone fail at something done for such personal enjoyment? Typically, there isn't a ton of money to be made in writing of any kind; it's one of those skills absolutely anyone with a sixth-grade education could do. Most popular novels are written at a sixth-grade level for a reason. So, this blog was my exploration into the status of "failed writer." I wanted to know if I had joined that illustrious group of downtrodden, world-w