When my children joke with, tease and criticize me I’m grateful.
Much of the time I miss the fact that they’re joking. I miss their pleasure, joy and love. I feel the sting of how clearly they see me.
Once I’ve performed a cranial anusectomy1 and I can see the combination of fear and hope in their eyes - fear that I might take offense and hope that I might laugh, I let their criticism in.
One such criticism?
I say the same things over and over again.
I explain the same stuff multiple times.
I like to tell people the same thing three or four different times in quite similar ways.
I’ll even keep them sitting in one space, speaking something I just said moments ago, explaining once again with the hopes that they will hear me.
Tiresome eh?
My poor kids.
I used to think it was rude when they interrupted with an ‘I get it Dad’.
Now I realize that this is an act of desperation and an indication of someone with an injury around being heard.
I apologize for such a long letter, I didn’t have the time to write a short one. Mark Twain.
In writing over five hundred and forty Foolsletters, I’ve learned something.
Short ones get read and shared very frequently. Long ones need to be fucking funny to have the same impact.
Then there are some of those ideas that can go occupy an empty corner of an expanding universe. They can rattle around in the atmosphere like so much space junk. Perhaps one of my shitty posts might float off into the ether to knock out one of Mr. Musks’ space aged bits of atmospheric ejaculate.2
How concise can you make your communication?
What happens when you say something then stop talking?
This is an intense surgical procedure where one’s head is removed from their own ass.
Concise communication CAN be clear.
"Stop" is clear. We see the red sign. We see the word. We have context. We understand. A less concise rendition would be *problematic*: "This is the end of the street. Another vehicle or a pedestrian could possibly intersect with your path and create a situation where an accident is unavoidable at typical vehicular speeds. Thus, we must order you, in the name of public safety, to apply your brakes until the vehicle comes to a full and complete stop. You may then, cautiously survey the immediate area and upon concluding it is safe to do so, continue with your trip."
Conciseness without context CAN be hurtful, harmful, even deadly.
"Hey, I am trying to figure out how much money we need to take out of the bank machine so we have enough for the next few days before we reach the US border. If I miscalculate, we'll need to use credit cards that we are saving for US expenses and could find ourselves short on funds while out of country. As you know, we are driving an old car, I am six weeks pregnant with our first child and we really can't afford for anything to go wrong on this trip. But if we don't go now, we may never go, because, you know, house and kids, so this is happening. Please be quiet while I do the math I should have done at home, but didn't do because I was doing everything else. I am nervous about this and I have never driven through the US, let alone while suffering morning sickness. Where are those ginger cookies for me to suck on? Please, please stop talking right now while I do the math." The actual message was, "Shut up." It was the only time I ever said those words to someone. I didn't even realize I had said them. But the trip had a frosty start despite it being July. To be successfully concise, context matters.