It has been a while since we posted something new here. Sorry about that. Life got in the way.

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“The man who does not read has no advantage over the man who can’t read.” – Mark Twain

Title – Abraham Lincoln: Great Speeches

Learn some words of the most important of all, besides Washington.

What is your favorite speech by an American president? Use that in the piece you write.

The best responses will be featured in a future post.

Untitled Goose Game – courtesy of Know Your Meme

By the end of this month, we will announce the details for the giveaway for February.

The President Doesn’t Write His Own Speeches – Op-Ed Piece

The American president has become the most important person in the country, not only for his executive power, he is and has always been the leader of that branch of the government, but for his influence on the American psyche. The American government has grown from three branches to being a freaking forest, and that means that the once head of the garden, the president, has changed. You can change that plant, you can change even the heads of the other government branches, but you cannot change the very democracy that the forest holds. At one point, the president was the only one in town (or garden, to keep with the metaphor), but as America grew in size, so did its resources and power, and garden, which meant that the president no longer had to run the place with a hands-on approach.

He is an overseer of the establishment of freedom today, more than an active participant in it. His role is to be the country’s spiritual leader as much as it is to lead it since the country has become so complex and intricate through local, state, and national levels that one man can’t control all of it. He must rely on the people in the various positions to uphold democratic ideals without his input. The president must then convince those who do not know him that the US government, with its crazy idea of democracy, is good and noble and should be kept. There are so many in the government that give time and effort into our country that they must do it for their own love for it, as much as a president’s promise. You need the overseer to oversee everything, but without those underneath him and those underneath and so forth and so forth, it doesn’t really matter how good the president is.

First, Yes, I know that I have said that I was no longer talking about politics, but, well, I thought this was a good idea while having breakfast—Lucky Charms cereal for those who are interested.

And second, I say that America is a democracy, and those pundits who know about as much as that guy on my cereal box, say it too. But we are not a democracy. We are a democratic republic. Let’s get it right there. We vote for the leaders to make the laws. In a democracy, we would vote for the actual laws. So giving credit to democracy is not fair to the principles of a republic that work. After all, the Founding Fathers didn’t want to make a democratic state; they wanted to create a government similar to Rome (a republic) but without a king. Since you know, America just fought a war against a king. It would be kind of insane to spend all that time fighting for something and then become it. Talk about living long enough to become the villain, am I right? I just wanted to clarify what actual type of government we live in since I hate hearing all about democracy as our key. We should give the Founding Fathers more credit than that. They would not have created something that new for the reasonable idea that it would be too risky and may not work. But a democracy with a republic feel to it? That can work since the Romans used a republic. You know the Romans, they ran Europe for a thousand years and created one of the most impactful empires the world has ever seen. The Founding Fathers thought that we should take a few ideas from them, and democracy was not of them.

Let’s get back to the president. I respect the position more than any man in it. I don’t like all the presidents. Some were crooks, like Nixon. Some were crazy, like Jackson. And some just weren’t my type of leader, like Wilson. But I always try to respect the man, not because the crook, or the crazy, or the strange deserve it, but the country does. I respect the president not for his sake but for the country’s sake, to show that one man is never bigger than the whole, and never should be. If Washington was not good enough to be king (which he kind of was), then no president should ever think that highly of themselves in that regard. After all, the man who helped begin the nation, who could have been a king if he wanted to, gave up the job and allowed others to do it. America is ahead of the president, so I always do my best to respect the country, which is best when I respect the president, no matter if I like him or not.

Some of the most important words ever uttered by an American have been by presidents.

Washington warned us of parties and that our division will be from within. Lincoln told us that slavery should be abolished. The first Roosevelt gave a speech after getting shot because that was the type of person he was. FDR inspired our troops in our country’s, and perhaps the world’s most important war. Kennedy dreamed of the moon when no one thought it was possible. Regan tore down a wall that ripped apart a nation.

The American presidents’ words matter. Maybe as much as his own policies. We remember the great lines and quotes, just as much as we do of the laws he put in. Remember when I said that he was a spiritual leader of the nation too? His words are apart of that.

Why am I saying this all to you? What is my point here?

I hate how much the president gets credit for stuff he never even wrote. That’s what I am saying. That’s my point.

Now to be clear, at some point in time, the president did write his own speeches. Washington wrote his own. The guy wrote run-on sentences like they were going out of style. Every time you thought he was done, he continued with a comma. It’s like no one was there to tell him to come up for some air and breath. Yeah, because no one was there with him. Lincoln wrote his speeches, too, from what I learned. He wrote grammatically incorrect. He wrote like what he was; a self-educated lawyer. He did write with more of a rhythm than a president should have. As if he was a poet writing verse more than a politician giving a speech. Even the phrase; “of the people, by the people, for the people” sounds like something Whitman would have written more than the president. I say the same thing about the line “Only the good die young,” the song by Billy Joel. That sounds more poetic than something a pop songwriter should be giving the world. It sounds like something Hamlet would have said. Like “One must be cruel to be kind.” Presidents shouldn’t be creative like Lincoln, is what I am saying. And because I mentioned Whitman, I have to tell you, his poem “Oh Captain! My Captain!” was written about Lincoln, after he got assassinated, although you wouldn’t know it by reading the poem.

I can’t honestly tell you when the president stopped writing his own speeches. I know FDR didn’t write them. But I can’t be certain about Teddy writing his own speeches, or even Wilson.

It’s not fair that the American people are led to believe that the president today is responsible for all the words they hear in his speech. He isn’t. There is a writer and probably a few writers who write up the address for the guy.

The president should be able to compose a quick few thousand words for an essay for a speech. I am offended as a writer that he doesn’t. And to any writer of the president who is not talked of, I tip my hat to you because that guy is going to get all the credit, yet it is your creativity that made it all worth it. Good job to the writers of the president. They deserve more of our respect than we give them.

Why has the president become a writer like James Patterson? He doesn’t really write the books. He talks to people about the main points and then lets them do all the dirty work, but he makes sure that his name is on the cover. How the hell did that happen?

Don’t talk for fifteen minutes about freedom and democracy, (yes democracy, he doesn’t say republic) and whatever else you want to talk about and pretend that you wrote about it all on your own. You didn’t. It’s frankly one of the reasons I like Lincoln. Those were his words. You could tell, as I mentioned he had a distinct style to his word selection and choice. In other words, he actually took time to write the damn thing. Lincoln gets respect from writers, the same way that generals on the front line get respect from soldiers. You don’t’ have to think he is that good at it, but you can’t say that he isn’t there doing the actual work.

Who do you respect more? The manager who does the physical job or the one who never lifts a finger and only tells you what to do?

And I don’t want to hear that the president is too busy for this. Don’t give me that. What are you going to tell me next, that the guy friend you have is just a friend? We are talking about a speech that is for the American people, the people who voted for him, and he can’t come up with the words for it?

I talk to you about the president being the nation’s spiritual leader, to be the voice of the people, and he is. And yet, how many of the words that a president says are actually his? The president who doesn’t write his own speeches should not talk about honesty because if he is honest, he would say that he is nothing more than an actor up there, a communicator, not the creative mind behind it all. He gave his team of writers plot points, and they wrote the speech, and he is now reciting it like an actor in a Shakespearean play. He might as well tell me the stages of life, or that to thine own self be true.

Take away the writers, and let the president write his own speech. Do you think that any would listen? And don’t tell me that the president is too busy. Lincoln seemed to have the time.

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The one team is up by five scores.

And it isn’t even halftime yet.

This is the game that is supposed to be good.

This is the game that everyone was hyping up all week.

This is the game that the pundits couldn’t stop talking about, for it was to be the best of the games.

The quarterback on the one team is playing like an MVP, and the team will compete for a championship.

The running back on the other team is one of the top, and the team has a top defense.

This should be good football.

More importantly, this is the game that is supposed to get everyone to dinner.

The dinner game stinks, but no one will care at the point since it will be time for turkey and stuffing then.

Both quarterbacks on those teams stink.

The coach on one of the teams will likely get fired at the end of the year.

And the owner of the other team is making excuses for the team’s failures.

That is the dinner game for a reason.

And the lunch game (the first game of the day) was bad, but no one was sitting down watching that game since everyone was driving over to the host’s house for the holiday.

The lack of competition in that game affected no one.

Like how the lack of description of that here won’t hurt anyone either.

The teams from the first game were awful. That is all you need to know about it.

The men from both families stare at the TV screen intently, knowing that if the game doesn’t change, they will have to start chatting with one another about something else.

The only one in the room not concerned with that is the grandpa in the room.

He is sleeping in a chair separate from the others.

A chair that he watched the first game in.

One uncle in the room comments,

“They need better protection. The quarterback has no time.”

“That is not all they need.”

The young nephew in the room responds.

An older brother is throwing a football up in the corner of the room.

“You should have seen us today play. Man, we really smoked them.”

“What you and your buddies fell out of bed to play in this weather? “His father mocked his son.

“It was me, Kyle, AJ, and a bunch of guys from the number streets.”

“Oh, really. Where did you play?”

“Behind the field at Kramer.”

“Is that the one next to the church? Not the church we go to, the other one.”

“The Protestant church.” A cousin interjected.

“No. That is Central Field. We don’t play there. The ground is too hard.”

The husband of the host of the evening came in from the cold and sat between an uncle and nephew.

“It’s a blowout.” His dad said.

The uncle spoke, “They need better protection. The quarterback has no time.”

The nephew didn’t respond, for he was too busy playing the latest update of his mobile video game.

Thanksgiving is all about family and being with the ones that you love.

And sometimes you don’t want to talk to them.

You don’t care about their job that they may or may not have. (He still works as a teacher, I think)

You don’t understand the relationship of the one cousin with that girl he is always with. (Are they dating or what?)

You don’t know what is going on with their current hobbies. (That one cousin still likes standup comedy, right?)

You can only talk so much to others.

How much can you go on about the latest shows you watched on TV?

Or about the latest book you read?

Or the latest big piece of news that everyone knows about, and for some reason, the one guy in the room knows a little too much about.

There is alcohol at these events for a reason.

And then you are forced to talk with the other ones in your family.

The weird ones that make you question why you didn’t order some Chinese food ask that cute girl in pro services if she is doing anything and try to have fun there.

The weird ones make you think that maybe you are adopted and that no one told you yet.

There is alcohol at these events for a reason.

Which is why some of us have such a hard time with them.

The faults of your father will be your own faults.

The successes of your brother can become your obstacles.

The strangeness of your uncle is a trait in you as well.

But you can change the amount of alcohol in your blood.

A wife from the other room calls out, asking how the game is going.

One uncle in the room comments,

“They need better protection. The quarterback has no time.”

“That is not all they need.”

The young nephew in the room responds, for he just completed a level.

The husband answers, knowing that she wanted a better answer than that.

Men need the football games on Thanksgiving to be competitive because if they are not if the one team is up at halftime, men have to do the one thing they hate to do above all else.

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Greg Luti is an editor and blogger on pensandwords.com. He enjoys Thanksgiving and spending time with his family. If a team is up by five scores at halftime on Thanksgiving, he is probably taking a nap on the couch.

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We will try something different here and list a few of the books that you readers have mentioned you are reading right now.

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Don’t forget to tell us what you are reading after reading this post!

We asked readers on our social media pages what books they are reading right now and here is what they said.

Book 1 – The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper by Phaedra Patrick

This book is being read by our reader Marcia Hickey.

This 2017 book is about fun adventures and takes of the world from seniors. If you like the book, A Man Called Ove, then this may be for you.

This is also the first book by Phaedra Patrick.

Book 2 – The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd

This book is being read by our reader Tammy Young.

I actually went to a conference where this woman spoke about this book when I was in school. (In case you needed a useless face for the day)

If you like The Help, then you may like this one too.

Book 3 – Safe and Sound by Fern Michaels

This book is a part of the book club that our reader Hazel Lounghurst Spire is in.

If you like twists and turns in your book, then you may like this one.

Are you going to read any of these books? Have you already read them? We want to hear back from you about what book you are reading at this time.

We know this is a little bit different than what we normally do. We will try to have more posts like this so that you can see what our readers are interested in reading.

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Greg Luti is an editor and blogger on pensandwords.com. His favorite writers are Robert Frost and Charles Bukowski. He enjoys reading up on history, watching comedies, and playing video games, when he is not writing down a few notes for his next piece. He started this blog out of his love for literature and hopes the reader shares that passion.

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Do Writers Become Characters? – Op-Ed Piece

Writers are master creators in that they can take nothing on a piece of paper and then form life from it.

The words make something there that was otherwise not there before.

It’s like magic only with typing and spacebars.

Instead of waving around a wand, writers use pens.

We don’t cast spells; we spell-check.

We don’t boil bones; we boil coffee.

No person becomes a hero on a quest.

No land becomes a fantasy land filled with trolls and ogres.

No story becomes a tale as old as time.

Perhaps this unique feature is why some writers are drawn to the profession.

There is a unique opportunity when you are the one who writes the script.

When you can put words in a character’s mouth, and that character cannot object or disagree.

If you do that with people you know, then you’d surely get in trouble.

Writers know a thing or two about creating stuff.

Perhaps that is why God is so good with words, why the Bible is chock-full of quotes and lines that we say over and over again.

God creates. Writers create. It is only natural that God is a writer.

He went from quite literally making our world to making our world in a literary sense too.

Also, on a side note, can we all take a second to acknowledge how nonchalant The Bible is when God creates the world?

No, that youtube video I watched with those guys playing Call of Duty Zombies was good.

My last meal at Friday’s was good.

The Lithium cover by Post Malone was good.

The creation of the freaking world has to get better than only “It was good.”

There is a problem with the dedication of writers.

And no, I am not talking about the lack of coffee in the pot. (but seriously, can someone refill that from time to time?)

The reader, the bloodline to a writer’s success and the one who decides whether a writer eats or starves, can’t read every word.

Or every book they write.

Sorry to all the writers out there that want that to be the case.

Writers lie to themselves and act like the readers will see them for all they are.

All those funny lines that will make no sense to future generations since the reference will become outdated.

All those plotlines that weave in and out like an intricate design on a sweater.

All those dramatic verses that practically produce tears from the pages.

Forgot all about that cause quite the opposite will happen.

The writer will be reduced to a character.

The answer to a Jeopardy question. (Who is William Shakespeare?)

A fun fact that you read on your phone. (Stephen King’s It was originally rejected by publishers because they didn’t want a book of that size on the shelves.)

A brief paragraph on a website. (No, I’m not writing a paragraph here.)

All those words and worlds, and that is what a writer is left with.

He wrote the book about the young lovers.

She wrote the book about the boy wizard.

He wrote Sherlock Holmes.

We make them less so that we can better understand them.

Then our larger culture takes it out of control.

Take a famous writer that you know, and you’ll realize that people think that the writer spent their entire lives on that one work.

Shakespeare didn’t go around talking like that.

Poe didn’t try to ever kill someone.

Gaiman is no longer thinking about sandmen.

But we as an audience don’t seem to actually care about the writer as a person, but as a character too.

So whenever we talk of Shakespeare, he is talking funny.

We give Poe a Raven each time he appears in pop culture.

We have Gaiman talk to a sandman each scene he is brought up.

We treat them as fictional creations.

Not the hero in the story.

Not the villain in the story,

Not even the side character,

After years of creating characters, it is the writer who is transformed into a character, then none other by the fans themselves.

That is quite poetic if you ask me.

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Greg Luti is an editor and blogger on pensandwords.com. He has never caught a ghost. He has never crossed the streams. He knows all the words to the Ghostbuster song. He likes Slimer. He thinks an underrated part of the film is the end where all the Ghostbusters have cream on themselves from the explosion, aside from Bill Murray. For some reason his lack of cream after destroying the ancient God makes sense to the blogger.

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Here is a short story about a birthday party that tries to celebrate the boy’s day and end COVID.

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The Tale of Genji is the world’s first novel as we know it. Murasaki Shikibu, a noblewoman and lady-in-waiting, wrote the novel in 11th century Japan.

In the original edition, almost none of the characters had names and were referred to by titles and honorifics because of Heian-era Japanese court etiquette.

Mask Burning – Short Story

The ending of a situation has come to be a fascination that humanity can not stop thinking about. Whether we are contemplating the end to our own lives, the very society we are in, or to a story we are being told, we simply can’t get over asking, “How does it end?”

Now we don’t know about the ends of our own lives. There could be a heaven, but it’s not like I have been there for vacation, so that is only a guess, really. We could end our modern lives with nuclear war, or maybe some natural disaster will lead to the lack of resources we need to survive. If there is a third world war, there is not going to be a fourth one soon after it, since there will most likely not be any of us after the third world war. We do know how this story ends, though. The kids burn their masks to represent the end to COVID.

Is it really the end of COVID? What about the variant still going around? There are still some who are wearing masks, though? What about them?

You know what, why don’t you just read the damn story? I am not a doctor. I am the narrator. I can only tell you of the character’s story as it unfolds; I can’t cure diseases.

I don’t know if this is the end of COVID, really. I am not going to talk to you about the variant here. I can’t explain why some people still wear the masks despite not having to.

I can tell you that on one late June afternoon, a party took place for a kid that was supposed to commemorate the end of COVID. Freddy was turning 11, and his mom thought that there would be no better way to celebrate his birthday than to have a bunch of kids over the house and burn their face masks. The face masks that have become a symbol for the virus that destroyed the year 2020. By eliminating them, the people at the party are symbolically killing COVID. I mean, sure, if that is what the partygoers are into, then who am I to judge? I am the asshole who questions drinking games because I like to get drunk without cups or balls being thrown across the table, so what do I know? Of course, Freddy’s mom would be responsible for burning the masks, as the kids would not be allowed too close to the fire, but nevertheless, the masks would be burning at 11-year old Freddy’s party.

Freddy’s parents, Jennifer and George, agreed that the party would be best for the children, which is, of course, another way of saying that Jennifer liked the idea, and George went with it.

There is one person who was not too keen on the idea of this party, Freddy’s uncle, Kel. He didn’t agree with the whole charade, not because of the possible dangers of the virus or the dangers of the kids spreading it. No, he was upset because the event had to happen at his house, for no other reason than he is the one of the two brothers that has a large backyard where the burning of masks would be no problem. Yeah, Uncle Kel didn’t care about the COVID virus. He was more upset that kids were coming over his house. The guy barely talks to his neighbors (aside from Tommy), now his house is going to be filled with parents of people he didn’t know. At least Kel will have alcohol available to him.

Of all of the kids, it was Teddy that Uncle Kel liked. He could tolerate the naïve youngster as the two sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast as their mother prepared the fire outside. Neither wanted to help her since they knew once they did, they would be helping her the rest of the day. They both ignored her, knowing that the responsibility for party setup would fall on George if they said nothing.

“So, how was the school year? Aside from the fact that the pandemic killed any chance of you enjoying it.” Uncle Kel asked his nephew.

“Learn anything interesting?” He asked, not really interested.

“I learned that when you say less after a word, it means that there is none of it.”

“Oh…. You spend a whole year of schooling for something like that. Your mom must be proud.”

The kid ignored the adult at the table. “Pointless means that the thing has no point. Fruitless means no fruit.”

“Mindless means no mind.”

“Oh, yeah. But that wasn’t an example the teacher gave us.” Freddy continued to eat his cereal.

“They wouldn’t want to spell it out for all of you, I guess.”

They both sit there for a bit until the uncle tried to change the topic of the conversation.

“What else has been going on in your life?”

“I got a new video game.”

“Yeah. The hero has to explore the seven worlds of Akira. Each world has a crystal, and by gathering the seven crystals, you can defeat the main boss. Each world has its own boss, though, so each time you get a crystal, the next boss is harder to beat.”

“Of course.” The uncle was lost on his nephew’s description of a game until then; he didn’t know existed.

“You have to collect different outfits and weapons since each world is made of a different element.”

“My friend Harry says that if you beat the game on normal and then play it on hard, there is another extra main boss. Isn’t that cool?”

“Look, I don’t mean to burst your bubble, but you’re a kid, and I don’t care about what you care about.”

“Kids, either don’t think of the shit you think about is so stupid and pointless that it is practically equal to not thinking. Now, you may think I am being an asshole, but when you’re older, you’ll understand.” He sipped his cup of coffee. “Kids are stupid pieces of shit that are only good so that we can continue to have more of us here. The only reason they even have schools is that kids are too useless to have real responsibility at your age.”

“So, what is something I should learn?”

He muttered to himself, “The teacher obviously missed the word useless too.”

The mom, Jennifer, entered from the outdoor. “Are either of you going help me? Kel, can you get up off your butt and help a little?”

“Oh, I was actually going to show Ted here the gift I got him.”

“You were?” Teddy asked, surprised.

The two rushed into the other room avoiding the kid’s mother.

“So, what did you get me?” Teddy asked about his gift.

“Oh, nothing. It’s a surprise.”

“So you said this to get out of helping my mom?”

“Pretty much.” They both sat down on the couch. “I’ll be honest with you; I don’t even want to have the party here; setting it up is another thing altogether.”

“What, you don’t like my friends?”

“Kid, I barely like you.”

“Hey, I got something to show you. Something you may like.” Uncle Kel got up from the table and headed to the counter. He picked up a baseball card that was sealed shut. “Look at this baseball card I just bought. Do you know who this is?”

“No.” The kid said, disinterested.

“Oh, come. I thought you liked baseball.”

“Then you are going to be disappointed in what I got you for your birthday.”

The two then sat on the couch, unsure of what to say to one another. The uncle wanted to talk about the new baseball card that he spent a lot on, while his nephew wanted to talk about his new video game.

“Well, this card is the most valuable card around. And I just bought it.”

“Why would you buy a baseball card? That is silly.”

“This card is priceless.” He handed the card to the kid to inspect.

“In a way, yes. See, a thing that people do is to get as many priceless things as possible, and those with the most priceless things are considered the most important people.”

“But if the things have no price, how can you tell the difference between something with a price and something without it?”

“My nephew, you have learned a valuable lesson today. Stuff doesn’t matter. We only think it matters, which then makes it matter.”

“Even though it doesn’t really matter.”

“Wait, so what actually matters?”

He took back the baseball card. “Teddy, my friend, if you figure that one out, let me and everyone else on this earth know.”

The mom came in from outside, “Your dad better be back from the store soon since neither of you is helping me.”

“How about we catch an early movie?” The uncle suggested to the birthday boy.

George came in with two full bags of party gear. “Boy, have I got a bunch of stuff for this party.”

“Unless you want to stay here?” The uncle repeated.

Teddy noticed all the stuff that his dad was putting on the table. “What’s playing?”

The uncle and nephew headed for the door as the uncle shouted to the dad across the room. “I am taking the kid to see a movie. Bye.”

The two went to see a movie that neither really liked, but that was better than spending all day setting up the decorations for the party. The unfortunate other two, of the mom and dad, were stuck handling the party affairs. Both were exhausted when the first guests came over.

The party has started. A mid-afternoon barbeque dinner of hot dogs and burgers was already being served. All the kids were over by the food, getting what they could eat. In part of the large backyard, three men stood staring at the fire, plates in their hands. There was George, the father of the birthday boy, Uncle Kel, and the neighbor, Tommy, who had no kids but knew of the party and was friends with Kel.

Tommy asked the question everyone had. “So your wife thought it was a good idea to have the kids burn their masks at this party?”

“She is calling it a “mask burning” It is to bring in a new era of our happiness and end COVID.”

“That is so stupid.” Uncle Kel responded right away.

“Of course it is! But I want to be able to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

“Fair enough.” Tommy understood.

“Did I tell you guys that I got a mint condition rookie card of Ken Griffey Jr?”

“Wow, that must be worth a lot.”

“Oh, and by the way, your kid doesn’t like baseball.”

“I know that,” George answered.

Jennifer then called all the kids together to get their masks. There was some resentment from some of the boys who felt that they could put their masks in the fire all by themselves, but Jennifer knew better than to allow that to happen. All the parents stood as she put masks in the fire, which was admittedly less than spectacular. The scene went on for another few minutes as Jennifer tried not to put all the masks in the fire at once. The only parent not in the backyard for the burning was Uncle Kel, who had one too many beers, and was lying down inside.

A girl from a parent that Uncle Kel didn’t know or care to know came running inside. When she saw the middle-aged man on the couch, she called out to him. “Hey, did you see that fire! It was because of all the masks!”

“No. Really? I had no idea. This whole time I thought our neighbor’s house was burning.”

Teddy came in the room as excited as the girl. “Did you see those flames? They were so high.”

“What did you kids never see a freaking fire before?” Uncle Kel complained.

“What are you putting in the fire?” Teddy asked the girl.

“I don’t know. I’m looking for something.” She left the room, continuing her search.

Teddy directed his attention to his uncle. “Mom said that we could put one extra item in the fire if we wanted.”

“Sounds exciting.” The uncle said disinterested in his nephew’s fire or new girlfriend.

“So I put in that priceless baseball card you showed me earlier.”

“You what?” He leaped up from the chair.

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t mind because you said it had no price.”

The uncle covered his face with his hands. “Because priceless…”

His nephew finished the thought, “Means it has no price.”

The girl came back into the room with a whiffle ball bat. “Mind if I burn this?”

“No problem. I don’t even like baseball.”

The most expensive baseball card ever sold is the 1914 Babe Ruth card. It sold for more than 6 million dollars.

1. COVID-19 stands for coronavirus disease of 2019.

2. The World Health Organization gave the virus its name on February 11, 2020.

3. A coronavirus is a kind of common virus that causes an infection in your nose, sinuses, or upper throat.

4. There is no evidence that shows that COVID-19 can be transferred by eating or handling food.

5. As of July 4th, 2021 there were over 33 million American cases of the virus.

Ken Griffey Jr. is a major league baseball player who played 22 years in the MLB from the years 1989 to 2010. He had a Hall of Fame career and hit 630 home runs while playing for the Seattle Mariners and Cincinnati Reds. He is often regarded as one of the best to ever play the game.

Nothing here but the usual stuff.

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Greg Luti is an editor and blogger on pensandwords.com. His favorite writers are Robert Frost and Charles Bukowski. He enjoys reading up on history, watching comedies, and playing video games, when he is not writing down a few notes for his next piece. He started this blog out of his love for literature and hopes that the reader shares that same passion.

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The Worst Part Of Halloween – Poem

Do you know what the worst part of Halloween is?

The holiday where darkness is day, the ghouls and ghosts get together, and all dress up to fool them.

The time of year where the only real objective any sane person can have is to eat all the candy that they can get their hands on.

Do you know what the worst part of Halloween is?

Is it the buying of the costume?

Why is it one size too small every year?

I haven’t gained any weight, yet it is still so small on me.

Is it the making of the costume?

Or for those who are too lazy to buy their own.

Is it putting up the decorations?

On the lawn, in the house, in the backyard, everywhere.

Til all that is in your view is orange and black and cats.

Perhaps it is going pumpkin picking?

And never finding the one pumpkin size you are looking for.

Why can I never find a giant pumpkin?

Is it watching every scary movie ever made?

Binge-watching so much horror movies that you don’t know what fear even is anymore.

The sights and sounds of the films are now apart of your twisted soul.

Is it listening to the Ghostbusters theme song for the millionth time?

And now that is in your head too. You’re welcome.

I am not even going to ask you the question.

Is it going trick or treating and never getting any good stuff?

What is up with that? Why do we never pick the good houses?

We should try a different neighborhood sometime.

Is it not consuming all the pumpkin spice lattes in the world?

You have limits—only ten per day.

You’re not a monster, only an addict.

What is the worst part of Halloween?

It’s having to share my candy with you.

The candy I slaved over. The candy I worked hard for. The candy that is all mine.

My Snicker for a smart picker.

Milky Way my way, every day, not your way, don’t even play.

Kit Kat for this cool cat.

Musketeers for this guy right here

Take my Mars, and I’ll send you to Mars.

Take my Twix, and you’ll eat my fists.

These are my M&M’s, don’t even pretend.

My Reeses snack, you know that.

This is all of my chocolate; make no mistake.

You should see. This right here is all for me.

I don’t want to share any of my candy with you.

Even the pretzels from that neighbor down the block that neither of us likes.

All of this candy is mine.

And I am not sharing any of it with you.

Which is why I will casually take some from your bag when you are not looking.

And you won’t even notice that I took the candy.

If you accuse me, I’ll make a joke about the Ghostbusters song to distract you.

You should try it sometime and not be so selfish.

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Greg Luti is an editor and blogger on pensandwords.com. He didn’t steal that candy you are missing from your bag. He would never do such a thing. He doesn’t even like candy. The fact that you are missing 3 Twix bars, 2 M&M’s and a Reeses is purely coincedental.

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Survey Says Shakespeare – Best Ever

Who is the best writer ever?

The best writer of all time is William Shakespeare.

Well, it was good to have you reading today, glad you enjoyed this article, the subscribe button is right over there and I’m about done with this.

Will you look at that? I still have time for lunch.

I’m thinking a hero today because I had a…

Oh, I’m sorry! Is there something else you wanted?

I already told you to subscribe, what else do you want?

“Shakespeare! Is he the best writer?”

Oh…. I thought we were done with this. Can’t we just agree he is the best and move on?

I want to go to lunch, and I am sure you have something else to do.

“But is Shakespeare really the best ever?

There are other great writers.

Poe defined a whole genre.

Frost wrote the most famous poem ever.

Homer lived before Shakespeare.

Tolkien helped to define what we know as fantasy worlds.

Shakespeare is the greatest, but is he really?

Is it because he is quoted more than any other writer?

Is it because he was so good people think he is fake?

Is it because his books are required reading in schools?

Is it because movies can’t stop taking from his works?

It’s because when you say something poetic, people will call you Shakespeare.

“Oh looks like little Johnny over there is trying to be Bill Shakespeare.”

If you quote a poem, that sounds like it would be from a dead guy, people will think it’s him, even when most times it is not him.

Like Invictus (which is by a William, but not the one I’m talking about)

If you go out on the street and ask someone to name a writer he will be the guy they name.

Not Poe and his raven, or Frost and his road, or Rowling and her witches, or Tolkien and his elves. It’s William and his words. That’s what people know.

He is the standard. It doesn’t matter if he is worthy or not.

I look at it like Family Feud.

100 people surveyed were asked, “Who is the greatest writer of all time?”

The number one answer on the board is William Shakespeare.

Who cares about the love sonnets, the witty quotes, the timeless plays, the renowned tragedies? That is irrelevant to the answer.

When you are the person that most say is the best, then what exactly makes you not the best?

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Greg Luti is an editor and blogger on pensandwords.com. His favorite writers are Robert Frost and Charles Bukowski. He enjoys reading up on history, watching comedies, and playing video games, when he is not writing down a few notes for his next piece. He started this blog out of his love for literature and hopes that the reader shares that same passion.

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I’ve nicked my heart as much as I’ve nicked walls.

Are the scars as prominent as the scratches on my wheelchair?

Are they hideous like I’m imagining?

Are they as bad as the damaged sheetrock?

Are they bigger than the chucks I took out of the doorway?

Oh, wait. Sorry. My glow has blurred your vision.

It’s all you see and want to see.

You love my inviting warmth so much,

that any flickering and dimming throws you off.

Maybe I need to be a shooting star rather than a guiding star.

When your world is darker, you always count on me to make it brighter.

I mean it is flattering and I’m glad I can ease your mind,

But are you worried about the radiation at all?

I have sadness and anger that runs through me like poison.

Oh, my bad. You are too busy draining my energy.

Where do you think I get my boosts from?

The darkness rejuvenates me; It covers imperfections

I enjoy having breaks from radiating positivity.

So don’t fret over the dimming of my mood

I have put their needs before mine, even if it drained me

So I wouldn’t mind more respect when I have cloudy days,

or when I have something serious to say…

Why does my disability always block you from seeing all of me?

It’s not like I hate being known as Little Miss Sunshine.

Causing smiles drives me wilder than going full speed on a beach.

I just want to speak without having my words soaked in glee and glitter,

but you only admire my sweet melody of courage and love.

There is more to my symphony than high notes; You might enjoy it.

You don’t need my light to find a way out, Sweetheart.

You’re the one who dug the tunnel. Why should I keep getting myself dirty?

Call me selfish or whatever you please,

I have nourished souls like Heaven’s flowers for decades.

I am trapped and I want to get out

I can’t scream any louder

Is anybody there? Can anybody hear me?

Of course not, I am shielded by the light

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Brooke Smith is from Louisiana. She graduated from Southeastern Louisiana University with a bachelor’s degree in English with a concentration in Creative Writing. She has a blog called Creative Works by Brooke Settoon Smith, which presents her most recent short stories and poems. She is an author on the mobile app called Texties. She is also a contributing writer for Coffee House Writers and Unwritten. Her favorite genres are crime mysteries and sci-fi.

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Go directly to the article

We have an op-ed piece about the whereabouts of The Bard in his early life.

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What do you think William Shakespeare did before he became a playwright?

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Write a piece titled “Where Am I?” using the image here.

Leave your response in the comments below.

“What does the brain matter compared with the heart?” — Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

There is an unusual question in literature about its most famous figure, and it is not whether he lived or not, but what he did in his twenties. Scholars debate where in the world William Shakespeare went before he came onto the London scene in his early thirties. Did he teach? Was he a soldier? Did he farm? For a guy who is as popular as him, it is mind-boggling that we don’t know where he even was for what some may view as a crucial part of his life.

Unfortunately, for our sake, the guy didn’t write down much of his personal life; even in his stories, there is only one scene of kids in a school, so Shakespeare sheds little light on his former life in his fiction by rarely mentioning it.

Let’s get the question of this piece out of the way. Technically speaking, the answer is no. William Shakespeare was never a soldier in his life. But, unfortunately, we have no records to support it. So he either was one, and the data was lost to time, and no one ever mentioned it during his life, or he lied about his enrollment and went under a different name. The man we call William Shakespeare never set foot on a battlefield. At least officially. Until someone can find a document that officially proves Shakespeare was a soldier, then we are stuck speculating using the little information we have.

Why do some think that he was a soldier of all things? You don’t have to be a military man to realize that the Bard wrote an unusually high amount of military-related pieces, even compared to writers today. After his love portions of his writing, the second largest portion is of works that have to do with people fighting wars. Can you call that curiosity of the mind and the intelligence of a genius at work? I mean, maybe? Heck, maybe the guy just really liked war and wanted to write of it every chance he got. (Could all this theorizing be misled, and the Bard just wrote of a topic he liked the most? Yes, but that still wouldn’t answer the question of his location and job before he became a writer)

Not only did Shakespeare write of war a lot, but he also wrote of war as if he was on the battlefield. It wasn’t strategy or tactics but the actual soldiers who would die on the field. Many of his great quotes and scenes depict men talking to one another before they fight. That is very interesting, in my opinion, and does suggest some altercation he had as a military man. He was involved in the minds of the soldiers as if he was a former one or knew some that were. If you think that it is reasonable for Shakespeare to write Romeo and Juliet because, in his youth, he was a lover, then it is also fair to say he was a soldier because of his English histories.

This theory is significant because it changes our perspective of Shakespeare. He is no longer a poet expressing beautiful verse of human emotion before a battle but a former soldier recollecting his time on the field. He isn’t using poetry to tell his story; he is telling us what he lived or what he knew others lived. Claiming that he is a soldier takes away from the popular opinion of a wizard of words with a pen composing verse to captivate the minds of the masses. He was a former soldier. Put something like that into today’s context; would we think differently of a popular writer if we learned they were a soldier in their former life? Yeah, because no one thinks the soldier is going to be a great poet, even though other writers, like Hemingway and Salinger, were soldiers in their lives.

We don’t put the soldier next to the poet, even though there is nothing wrong with being both. We separate them in our culture’s mind. Soldiers carry guns, wear equipment, and fight battles to protect the nation. Poets carry pens, wear whatever they feel like, and express human experience. In history, we never talk of the great generals as if they ever even read poetry. Because the mind of a general and the mind of a poet is different to us, we never think of putting them next to one another.

There is a major flaw to this theory or the very application of trying to identify a man’s life by his prose, and that is ironically enough not found in London but in the life of an American writer: Edgar Allan Poe.

If you read Poe, you think the guy is a nut. You wonder how many people he killed, whether he buried someone alive, and how many years he spent in jail… However, you would be disappointed that the man of macabre was nothing like his persona. He was rather bland, with no noticeable acts of mischief one associates with his stories. In other words, he was nothing like the guys he wrote about because they were just stories.

If you think that is the case with all writers, and they trade their personality for the words for the story’s sake, then identifying Shakespeare as a soldier can never be done because of a scene about Saint Crispin’s Day.

Personally, I like the idea of Shakespeare lying about his military days. He was a soldier to some extent, not for long, and then got a job as a schoolteacher, in a supervisor position, or one where he learned of business. My guess is that he was in the military under a different name, but for only a few years. But, of course, until someone gets an official document, this will have to stay a theory.

William Shakespeare was a soldier once. I mean, sure, why not?

We hope you enjoyed this piece.

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Greg Luti is an editor and blogger on pensandwords.com. His favorite writers are Robert Frost and Charles Bukowski. He enjoys reading up on history, watching comedies, and playing video games, when he is not writing down a few notes for his next piece. He started this blog out of his love for literature and hopes that the reader shares that same passion.

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