Thursday 1 July 2010

Thought Picnic: Using a putdown as a bridal bouquet

Starting with the alphabet
It is usually amusing to have to try and break down into fundamental parts the writings on my blog for the comprehension of people who do not bother to read and understand the points I am trying to convey.
I would be the first to admit that my writing hardly caters for the lowest common denominator of language or expression but I do take my time to clearly state my views and when controversial find a sense of balance.
There is no doubt that there are people who feel that the withdrawal of the Nigerian football teams from international competitions by the President is wrong – what has been missing from their clamour are clear reasons why they think he was wrong.
Scavengers are vermin
My blog on Questioning the FIFA Hegemony yesterday was written to offer exceptions to the FIFA rule of no political interference in national football associations with clearly documented examples of Togo, France and Nigeria.
A good blogging friend decided to highlight my blog as an excellent piece on Facebook and before you knew it, vultures descended on it, dismissed it out of hand and offered no objective counterpoint to the views raised.
That is what I find most irksome, seemingly intelligent people who yap and bark rather than foster an atmosphere for discourse with constructive input.
Distracted by a lack of comprehension
So, it was only right for me to suggest that certain readers might have been distracted by a lack of comprehension so evident from their comments to which one responded without first wondering if he really had missed the context of my blog by suggesting what I had written was stupidity beyond words, he had earlier said I was talking trash.
That left me with no other option but to state that the blog could not be recomposed on Facebook to accommodate intellect below par all by reason of the fact that the exchanges did not address with any sense of understanding of the matters raised in my blog.
In some ways, my less than courteous statements were flung out like a bridal bouquet and the over-exuberant bridesmaid made a lunge for it tripping over her shoes.
As a matter of principle, I never set out to patronise anyone nor do I enjoy the prospect of belittling people either, but when such persons make a blatant show of common breeding unworthy of gentlemen, it simply sets the stage for a gentle English putdown; the sad end of the tale is what once looked like a man is really a boy – and boys rarely ever understand when men speak.

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