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Sebastian Scholl

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Sebastian Scholl

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For the past few months I’ve been disappointed.  My only goal with The Salty Wag has been to express in a satirical way my feelings on topics that I believed to be relevant in our world.  While there have been a limited few who have appreciated the effort, my articles were to coded for most.  People were taken back by the report of a man committing suicide by turning on his car radio to NPR, and even more so when I joked that the Locks of Love charity pleaded for Jodi Arias’ life.  I have been told that a disclaimer at the end of my articles – such as Brown University Graduates First Class of Porn Stars – may be necessary.  Told that it would help assure readers that the fake quotes, names, and other crap they just read was in fact a bunch of fake quotes, names and other crap. 


However, it seems to me a shame that in order to make my articles more palatable I must enlarge the donkey’s ass and give out cheesecloth as a blindfold.  But apparently in today’s realm of humor there are only two prominent roads to be traveled; one of fart jokes or poverty.  Thankfully, for a few reasons, to me writing is entirely hobby – so I may choose the latter.  For true literacy has been depreciated to where all of it that demands subjective thought is considered burdensome, resulting in popular modern literature being little concerned with scholarship and wholly geared to towards entertainment – 50 Shades of Grey. 


I’m aware it’s hypocritical that I just devalued literature as a source of entertainment and am arguing that people are not appreciating my satires as a source of entertainment.  But if people simply did not enjoy the jokes I was writing I wouldn’t be alarmed – I’m well aware that I am my biggest fan.  The troubling part is that people are not able to pick up on them.  That people don’t use their minds as filters and instead assume that what is written is fact.  What’s even more disturbing than the great pleasure I take in writing these crude, twisted, and cynical stories is other peoples ability to believe them.


Now, I want to be a writer.  Not for career but for passion.  My journey in the literate world has just begun, and dulling down my words and innuendos seems the most backwards strategy to enhancing my skill.  So, just for fun, I wrote this bombastic little poem about my sensitivity towards those nondiscriminatory readers.  If my assumption is correct, they wont understand it.     


I’ve quickly unveiled peoples foulest aversions

by showcasing their most innate perversions.

Such taboo subjects are sensitive things

that remind people they are not perfect beings.

Most refuse to accept that reflection may,

wise one up over ruin ones day.

In our academic world where we all attend schools,

the statistics show we still are all fools.


This fast society doesn’t allow you

a second to think – so believe face value?

Information and truth are in no way pegged,

to believe so would be dumb, a title we dread.

Though ignorance is bliss, we can’t accept that.

We pride ourselves on knowing the truths and the facts.


But time and again we’re shown absolutes

were merely the agreements of previous dupes.

Who just like us searched for palatable truths,

only attentive to evidence for what they wanted to prove.

Resulting in knowledge that constantly leaks,

but willingly accepted by those who “believe”.


For little do you realize that your preconceived notions

are what perpetuate the constant miseries in motion.

In this world, you choose your fate.

So if you hate where you are stop refusing to change.

Since what we want from others is what we lack ourselves,

every selfless act you do shows you’re in hell.

Like the fish who wondered, “What is water?”

We remain clueless to the powers around us.

Being pulled back and forth with the ever changing tide,

while telling ourselves we are right this time!


The way to cope is a whole hearted laugh,

at the world, yourself, the future, and past.

To accept that despite our greatest traits,

fundamentally we’re bigots who are ashamed of our ways.

We go through great trouble to appear arcane,

but what’s the point when we’re all the same?


While I’m fully aware I have not the finest wit,

I believe myself raised above most twits.

If you’ve read up to here and believe it’s not true.

That we are all unique, important, and understand truth.

That humans have even the slightest clue.

Sorry my friend, my jokes are on you.

~ Sebastian L. Scholl




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