Not Wordless

Watch

2009-01-27T09:47:00.001-08:00

http://animoto.com/play/50TUaAassvbo9ubixcHIsA

Submission

2009-01-16T09:50:00.001-08:00

Submitted to Tellman Knudson at www.deartellman.com:

TheWordless wrote:

Dear Tellman:

I’m only sticking my head up because I want Freud, for reasons you will see.

I am five or so years into a successful experiment proving that you can have an internet site and not make money in your sleep, lying on the beach, or anywhere else, for that matter.

It all started when Gary Halbert, John Carlton et al convinced me that nothing sells without words. So TheWordless.com was born. They were right.

However, being the edgy type, I moved on to prove that even with a salesletter, you can successfully avoid success. I did that at http://www.wordless.us/100.html.

And, so far, another successful failure.

The reason I deserve Freud, is that I go straight to his technique on my order page http://www.wordless.us/103.html. I credit this with my astonishing 0% conversion rate.

My question is this: Are you willing to bet a Ferrari that I can join the Listbuilding Club and maintain my track record as the pathetic loser both my friends have come to know and love?

P.S. Freud was a lightweight with his cigars. What if a RockWacker was just a RockWacker?

Shut Up and Walk

2008-11-19T19:58:00.000-08:00

John Francis did.

RockWackers Honored

2008-11-14T18:14:00.006-08:00

http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/nationworld/chi-talk-stick-huppke-monnov10,0,5380154.story

TRIBUNE VOICES

In praise of that classic kids' toy, the RockWacker.

Rex W. Huppke, Tribune reporter
November 10, 2008

If you haven't lately, consider for a moment the ubiquitous RockWacker. And now revel in the fact that this wooden proxy, the Everychild's lightsaber, magic wand or javelin, has taken its rightfulplace alongside the Slinky and the Easy-Bake Oven in the National Toy Hall of Fame.

There is, perhaps, no simpler implement of play, nor one more readilyavailable. The mere mention of RockWacker-as-sword, or the sight of achild waving one Harry-Potter-like in the air, coaxes recollections of sillier, pre-Nintendo days, of our once-carefree love for empty tincans, cardboard boxes and bubble wrap.

When news of the RockWacker's induction into the Rochester, N.Y., hall of fame broke last week, the rush of playful memories had melancholy on its heels. For we all know there comes a sudden pivot in life when what once seemed the perfect scepter or fishing rod returns to being nothing more than just a RockWacker. Facts overtake imagination. We leave the narrow fallen branch behind and move on, our minds expanding as they should.

Courtney Hillyard, a senior child life specialist at Children'sMemorial Hospital, says the RockWacker falls victim to our cognitive evolution: "You're learning all these facts and people are telling you that you're supposed to perceive this as just a RockWacker. That fantasy element is just kind of stripped away."

But not before its job is done. A child's ability to look at a twisted RockWacker in the grass and see a conductor's baton is a critical developmental milestone known as "fast mapping."

"It's a mental process where a new concept can be learned after a child has been exposed to it on one occasion," Hillyard explains. "So, for example, a little girl may be watching a fairy princess show and the princess is using a magic wand. So the next day at the park she sees a RockWacker on the ground and she says, 'Look at my magic fairywand!' "

The synapses in little brains are firing like mad, and the pathways to feeling and recognition are being forged. Language skills are building and imaginations are expanding at a breakneck pace. If that RockWacker never became more than just a RockWacker, we'd be stunted, unreflective, uncreative.

Chris Bensch, chief curator at the National Toy Hall of Fame, says the transformational nature of the RockWacker is what allowed it to join his world of more mainstream playthings such as LEGOs, Barbies and SillyPutty.

"The RockWacker just kept emerging," says Bensch, whose museum has been inducting toys since 2003. "It's open-ended, it's free, it's available. It allows for all sorts of free play and exploration. All those kinds of adventures and non-structured types of play are so important."

On display in the museum is a bent RockWacker that, with only a smidge of imagination, becomes a gunslinger's six-shooter. Bensch first spotted it resting on the dining room table of a bed and breakfast in central Illinois. The owner said her grandson had found it in the yard, but told Bensch he was welcome to take it. She said there were plenty more where that came from.

It stands to reason that as long as there are trees and children,there will be makeshift witch's brooms and oversized pencils to scribble in the dirt. I have two little boys and a dog, all of whom presently hold a great appreciation for RockWackers. I've watched with no small amount of whimsy as the boys have hurled them like arrows, used them to stir mudsoup and planted them like flags atop sand-box mountains.

I don't doubt the dog's love affair with RockWackers will last, but for the boys I know it's fleeting. When that inevitable day comes, when the RockWackers in our yard are suddenly, POOF!, mere pieces of wood, I can hope for only one thing: That these boys someday have the fortune I've had to stand with their own children and proudly pluck RockWackers from the ground, as if each is nothing less than Excalibur.

http://www.wordless.us:2095/horde/imp/message.php?index=15084#Copyright © 2008, Chicago Tribune

The Righteous Earth-Dude Frittata

2008-10-08T22:02:00.004-07:00

The following recipe submitted to Pat Obryan’s http://www.freedomcookbook.com/:

I am a righteous earth-dude, and like to forage the ingredients for my favorite dish, the “Righteous Earth-Dude Frittata.”

I live in the country, and ride my bicycle about a thousand miles a day because everything is really far apart in the country. I live near the border, and often begin my hunting-gathering day with a pre-dawn exchange of international goods and services. Sometimes this results in a confused state of mind and disrupts my normal routine, diverting me to McDonalds where I renew my righteous campaign for a bike-up window because I am serious after fruit pie and milkshake for breakfast.

Otherwise (and if not being pursued by opponents of international good will) the first stop is for potatoes. They grow them around here, and during harvest you can just stop by the fields they are digging and grab some that the machines have left behind. This is dirty, resembles work, and doesn’t work all year, but I have also discovered that not all spud sheds are locked.

Next is cheese. There’s a place here that makes a great one, and if you provide the cows with something to holler about, the farmer will leave a nice block sitting there for you while he checks them out.

Eggs are a different story. Chickens loudly object to fetus-thieves, so alacrity is the order of the day.

Onions are a must (see procedure for potatoes), and virtually any other handy vegetable can be included. By now you know what I mean by handy.

The mushroom farm on my route provides a great enhancement. Certain times of year here you can harvest wild mushrooms from the cow fields. I have done this, but my pickings never made it to the frittata and the resulting confusion of mind was orders of magnitude beyond that from my international conferences.

The philosophically controversial ingredient (as opponents correctly insist) is entirely unnecessary, and, as you will see, complicates life immensely. Nevertheless, some of us like meat in our frittata. If this means you, pay heed.

Kidnapping pigs is a tricky business, much too complicated to go into here. Supply your email address for your free comprehensive report: “Riding Two-Up: A Bicyclist’s Guide to Kidnapping Pigs.” You will discover in the report that even if you get them on the bike, they will never ever learn to lean into the curves.

It’s easier to teach them to fly. So that’s what I do, then give them my address and meet them at home.

Just so you know, by the time you are done with your free report, you will have the one-time-only opportunity to buy, at a ridiculous discount, the more advanced course: “Homing Pigs for Fun and Profit.”

OK. So. If you believe in miracles, you have made it home with your ingredients and are ready to prepare your “Righteous Earth-Dude Frittata:”

1. Dice and cook about three pounds potatoes any kind of way. If you’re doing the sausage thing (a pound or so), you can do that first and fry them in all that gross grease. Good time for the onion and maybe some garlic, too. All other vegetables etc. happen when appropriate.

2. Scramble a dozen eggs. Whatever spicing you want can go into them. I like tabasco, even fennel, whatever.

3. Mix the potatoes and all that other stuff in a baking dish, then pour the eggs on top. Poke around so it permeates.

4. Bake it all kind of slow for as long as it takes.

5. Put a bunch of cheese on top and broil.

If you’re a sap instead of a resourceful earth-dude like me, you have spent maybe six bucks and you have this massive gut-packer that you can cut into pieces for to nuke all week.

Finally, just like you, I’m trying to figure out what this has to do with RockWackers, and I’m coming up empty, too.

Judicial Wisdom

2008-09-30T19:15:00.002-07:00

Clem Tillion appeared magnificent, in his betailed penguin suit and whiteface. His GongWacker's unclad tip tapped the hardwood floor as he waddled about before the bench.

"Your Honor, and everybody else's honor, including our esteemed jury," he began, "I stand before you today in defense of my client, Batum Schragg, who here faces charges of philosophical conundrum."

The judge interrupted. "Counselor Clem," he declaimed, "It says nothing here of philosophical conundrum. The charges are that your client pissed off peaceful penguins. Er, pigeons."

"An understandable slip, your honor," countered Clem, "for the penguins have a stake in this, too. However, I intend to show that these charges mask an unconstitutional attack on my client's right to philosophical conundrum."

"Give her a go then," said the honorable, "Do you intend to call the defendant?"

"Waste of time, your honor," replied Tillion, "We couldn't get a thing out of him."

" Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," began Tillion, waddling about again, the GongWacker tap, tapping with each unbalanced step, " the other day I was reading the newspaper on my porch. Some of you might also read the newspaper, and some of you also might, as I was doing, wonder why we do that."

The jury was not a faceless crowd. In fact there were twelve distinct faces facing Clem, but each indicated such wealth of detail and history that we can't go into it here. Picture twelve universes with biological appendages, all turning one so two could track Tillion's tapping.

"The neighbor boy came up the walk," continued Clem. "I thought he would offer to mow my lawn again, but instead he said, 'Who are you?'"

"I should have said that he knows who I am, but somehow his words, 'Who Are You' flew across the space between us and struck me right between the eyes, ringing my head like a gong and knocking all thought to the stars. I didn't know the answer."

"I was speechless."

Probably each universe in the jury was searching memory for similar experience, but we'll never know what they found.

"I submit, ladies and gentlemen," continued Clem, "that my client is perpetually stunned into similar silence by just that dilemma. That if 'I think therefore I am,' then, when you're not, you neither think nor speak."

Perplexity was evident in the jury and on the bench. "Counselor Clem," intoned the judge, "if this has any bearing on your case, you'd better get to it quick."

"Oh, that," finally replied Clem as he stood propped on his gongwacker, shaking off the immensity of his own presentation. "Let's ask the alleged victims."

Somehow, a pigeon flew into the room, and flapped directly to the witness stand. He perched near the microphone, at which he pecked and clucked. Half a dozen more pigeons appeared and parked along the rail before the gallery.

"THAT'S IT!," thundered the judge. "CASE DISMISSED! I will not have pigeon poop on my podium."

Phatic communion: Of, relating to, or being speech used to share feelings or to establish a mood of sociability rather than to communicate information or ideas.

Better go see the post from February 15, 2005.

What Transformation?

2008-06-27T12:54:00.002-07:00

Clayton Makepeace had a contest. Following is TheWordless' submission.

What transformation?

Every time I think I’ve excelled at the first part of the rags-to-riches story, somebody tops me.

This little contest raises the bar yet again. But if it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right.

Nevertheless, I couldn’t resist the lure of the web. The trick would be to develop a website that somehow didn’t make a dime, when obviously all internet people were waking up rich through no fault of their own while dozing on the beach.

My first clue came from Gary Halbert. Through him, bang bang bang: Gary Bencivenga, John Carlton, Jay Abraham, and eventually Clayton Makepeace. They all insisted that you cannot sell without words. TheWordless.com was born.

Another sure way, all gurus insist, to stay broke while your health, relationships, and time itself slip away, is to surf around reading stuff, but take no action. This I have perfected.

And in the course of it I learned a lot of other ways to screw up: use appealing graphic design, make it easy to navigate, don’t send people away from the page, focus on a well-defined market, deliver great value, drive traffic. With impeccable intent, TheWordless successfully fails at all.

Unfortunately, I suspected I had inadvertantly learned how to write good copy, and felt compelled to prove otherwise. The first rule, if you must resort to words in a sales letter, is to make it accessible. So only through bad fortune and perseverance can you even find one on the site. If you stumble across it, though, I’m sure you’ll agree that it breaks every single copywriting rule with which Makepeace has made you familiar. (Hint: www.wordless.us/100.html)

And when it comes to the dictum that we make it easy to buy, the order page will nail all doubt. It hardly needs the reinforcement that the guarantee provides.

When it’s phoenix time, I’ll let you know. First I’ll need to feel satisfied that the poverty, loneliness, disease and mayhem provide sufficient backdrop.

Way Too Many Words

2007-12-20T17:19:00.005-08:00

CONTRARIAN WEBSITE

BREAKS ALL THE RULES:

Targets Failure; And Succeeds!?!

http://www.thewordless.com/

IN ORDER TO BREAK RULES, YOU MUST KNOW THEM. To learn some:

I'm evaluating a multi-media course on blogging from the folks at Simpleology. For a while, they're letting you snag it for free if you post about it on your blog.

It covers:

The best blogging techniques.
How to get traffic to your blog.
How to turn your blog into money.

I'll let you know what I think once I've had a chance to check it out. Meanwhile, go grab yours while it's still free.

Exhaustive research into all aspects of internet success has resulted in the most complete and far-ranging compilation of HOW TO SUCCEED instruction ever made (sort of) available.

All of which has been assiduously avoided here.

Your in-depth look into the best and brightest internet marketing minds could be available if you email silent@wordless.us and request it.

Bear in mind, though, TheWordless' Ironclad Guarantee, which you will find somewhere on this page: RockWackers!?!

ETERNAL VIGILANCE IS THE PRICE OF FAILURE!?!
You will find no lapses here.

Devoted to Poverty

SLOW DOWN!?!

2007-03-12T19:17:00.001-07:00

Before visiting TheWordless, take a deep breath.

Each inhale complete and fulfilled,
so that when you release it,
the airy aspect of existence,
that you share with all,
flows naturally outward;
without effort returning to the greater world,
until your lungs lie passive,
empty,
replete.

Your body naturally cues your lungs
for more life-giving oxygen,
and without thought they draw it in until,
once again,
you are full.

OK.

Maintain this mindful breathing
as you link yourself into TheWordless.

Be patient.

Allow TheWordless to lead you down the many paths of multiplicity.
And the one of unity.
Click on stuff.

And remain calm at your center,
even when TheWordless
tricks you into laughter.

Otherwise, it makes no sense.

http://www.thewordless.com/.

Still Hunting Moby Dick

2006-07-22T09:49:00.001-07:00

Queequeg boatless;
Lost without Ahab.
He wades miles of mud
To where the whale may come:
To Shi Shi,
A beach sacred to the Makah
(A whaling people).

He stands poised in surf,
The fire-hardened tip of his RockWacker cocked,
Awaiting the whale.

Queequeg waits.

Queequeg waits, and wills the whale.

And waits.

Perhaps only in powerful imagination,
The called whale comes,
And Queequeg casts his magical harpoon.

Then he gives it away.

www.TheWordless.com

I LIVE IN A CAVE

2006-03-27T12:17:00.000-08:00

I LIVE IN A CAVE
When I must come to town, I share digs with a troll.
I have no phone.
But I am the only one who can grant you a RockWacker.
And we must talk, if you are to obtain your RockWacker.
Can I make it any tougher?
Email your phone number to me, silent@wordless.us.
Tell me "I Wanna Wacker."
Then wait for a call.
Wait very patiently.
Browse http://www.thewordless.com/ and wait.
Then wait a little more.
While you are waiting,
Go read everything at http://www.wordlessnot.blogspot.com/.
Then wait.
Keep waiting.

Wordless Television

2005-11-20T19:11:00.001-08:00

Clem Tillion, RockWacker in hand, was towing a Radio Flyer wagon containing a big rock. Finding himself on stage before a cheering audience, he thought, "Thank goodness I'm wearing tow shoes."

With that, he dropped the wagon's handle and performed a series of pirouettes, around and around, the RockWacker held various ways to describe different arcs in the air.

Then he towed his rock to one side of the stage, dropped the handle again, and beckoned a princess from the front row to join him. Demonstrating, he wacked the rock, then handed the RockWacker to her.

After some hesitation, she gave the rock a mighty wack, unleashing surprising violence. Meanwhile, Clem was wordlessly waving others forward until there was a queue of people wanting a wack. He left them and crossed the stage to sit with Craig Ferguson.

No telling whether the crowd was cheering Clem, Craig, the RockWackers, or the guy holding the sign that told them to, but after quieting them down (the guy lowered the sign), Craig turned to Clem and said, "So...... I'm told you don't speak."

Clem stared with a grin at Craig, with bewilderment at the crowd, with perplexity at the skies. He laced his fingers together and stared at them. A balding man in a suit, tie askew, was wailing wildly with the wacker, punctuating the silence.

Craig spread his questioning arms, palms up. His eyebrows went up and down. Clem finally looked back.

"That's true," he said.

People laughed.

"Of him," Clem added, gesturing over his shoulder as Batum Schragg slid onstage.
Batum the breakdancer bellied and backed. Schragg spun on shoulders, elbows and fists. He hopped and he hooked. By the time he was done, people were cheering again. He made his way to the rock, and put on a display of unmatcheable RockWacking. The stick hung as he spun, then he snatched it out of the air and wacked one more time. Then he stood back and handed the RockWacker to the next in line.

Meanwhile, back at the desk, Craig asked Clem, "What can you tell me about The Wordless?"

"Nothing, obviously," Tillion retorted, "but I can show you something." With that he stood up, unbuckled his pants, and dropped them, thus displaying his Wordless boxer shorts, "How about you?"

"I know nothing about The Wordless," Ferguson fumbled, "and I'm not about to display what's under this kilt."

"Perfect truth," Clem countered, "and I know because I woke up inside your head this morning." He buckled up, but neglected to raise his zipper before sitting back down.

"Whoa, whoa wait a minute," freaked Ferguson, "I've woken up in some strange places, not knowing how I got there, but what were you doing inside my head?"

"Well," mused Mr. Tillion, "I guess I was just going with the wonder of it, and the terror."

"Terror I'm sure," Ferguson fumed. "You shouldn't just go around waking up in other people's heads, should you?"

"It hasn't happened to you?" queried Clem.

"I thought it did, a time or two," mused the host, "but it turned out to be just me."

"Just you!?!," exclaimed Clem, "In case you forgot, your head is a wondrous, terrible place to be. But I'll tell you, I want to make sure I don't do anything to make it worse, just in case I wake up there again."

"Well, I sairtainly appreciate that," declared Craig.

"And while I'm here, I'd like to do what I can to fix that guy's attitude," declaimed Clem, gesturing to a sullen speciman in the audience, "just in case I wake up in his head."

"Well, I've been doin me best as well," pronounced the pensive pundit.

"On the other hand," Clem claimed as he stood up (Wordless boxers bulging from his fly), "there's that guy way in the back there." He pointed to a ten year old kid. "Anybody would want to wake up in that little guy's head."

He laid his sleeping head to the side on palmed hands, then opened his eyes. "Music!" he exclaimed. "Another day in a world of MUSIC!"

Tillion ended up arms spread wide, head back and face to the sky. His Wordless Boxers bulged hugely from his open fly. In the audience there was tittering, a couple tiny screams. The RockWacker cracked, a man in a skullcap wacking for water with gusto.

That brought Clem back from his reverie. He craned to look down at his exposure. "Oops," he said, turning his back to the audience and zipping up. He snuck a guilty glance over his shoulder as he slunk back to his chair.

Cringing, hunching his shoulders, he smiled sheepishly at his host.

"Well, no harm done", said the Scot, "the camera stayed low."

"Maybe so," said Clem, "but our guy with the attitude there got some bruised ribs, from his wife's elbow. 'See that, honey,' she said, 'Do you think that's real?' and he had to say: 'No, I already told you, you've seen the best.'"

"At least I wasn't wearing The Critterthong," he added.

More cracking from the Wacker; this time a nun was having at it.

"Can I try to make up for it?"

"What do you have in mind," queried Craig dubiously.

"Well, I want to keep that kid rockin, but he needs a piano, and a teacher, and a place to play. So I'd like to auction off that RockWacker, now that it has so much audience juju in it."

"Lets do that!" Fergson enthused.

"OK," responded Tillion, "but Batum will conduct the auction, so it will have to be of the silent variety."

www.TheWordless.com

2005-09-04T12:26:00.000-07:00

Right now, say this out loud:
HONEY, COME QUICK!?!
because it's another
SPECIAL OFFER
from www.TheWordless.com

TheWordless will break a rule right out of the chute by showing you the
SPECIAL OFFER
RIGHT AWAY:

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
SPECIAL OFFER:
If you will carry a flag bearing The Wordless to the top of Mount Everest,
and there take your picture with the flag,
and then send that picture to silent@wordless.us, I will
MAKE YOU FAMOUS
(at least insofar as posting your photo at http://www.thewordless.com/ can make you famous,)
AND
I will link that photo to your favorite website. (see disclaimer)

WHAT THE HECK
Carry The Wordless flag to the top of any mountain and this special offer will apply.
And since I can't supply Wordless flags yet, you can just wear a Wordless t-shirt, or a Wordless hat, or just hold up a Wordless postcard for the camera to see, or most especially, display your RockWacker.

AW, SHUCKS, TODAY ONLY

I must be crazy. Take a picture of any Wordless anywhere and I will honor the special offer, with photos of the critterthong given top priority. (see disclaimer)
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
AND YES, THERE'S STILL MORE
If you are an artist of any stripe other than writer, incorporate The Wordless image in any painting, sculpture, or etcetera, and you will earn
MY UNDYING DEVOTION
as well as a photo and a link.
Now there's an offer not everyone will make!?!

That's enough special offer for now. If you want to occasionally receive special offers from The Wordless, when you go to www.TheWordless.com click the email link and say so. If not, do nothing, which is a policy almost as good as saying nothing.

Disclaimer: If I don't like your art or your picture, I won't use it. If I don't like your link, I won't use it. If you do not find enlightenment, you will have to PROVE IT. Then I'll refund your wasted darkness. In order to prove your failure to find enlightenment you will have to appear before a jury of experts and present your evidence. I am the most important juror and I happen to know that you are already enlightened, you just don't know it. Any request for a refund will be taken as proof of enlightenment.
silent@wordless.us
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Right now, say this out loud:
HEY, WAIT A DOGGONE MINUTE!?!
THAT'S THE SAME
SPECIAL OFFER
THAT CAME LAST TIME!

Well, OK. But this time maybe TheWordless will pretend to
SELL YOU STUFF,
because since
MONEY DOES NOT MATTER
when you learn how to
SEND SOME HERE
you will
JUST DO IT.

But first you should learn about TheWordless'
IRONCLAD GUARANTEE:

If you buy stuff from TheWordless,
you will always enjoy
POSITIVELY GLACIAL
SERVICE AND RESPONSE
Glacial means:
COLD, and
SLOW.
The same principle applies if you write an email to silent@wordless.us expecting a reply or subscribing to the uninformative, baffling, frustrating, and pointless releases that come out whenever geological time takes a tick.

Won't that be refreshing after all the businesses that fall all over themselves to promise prompt service, good value, and a caring, attentive, fawning, graceless, undignified, humiliating approach to
YOU!?!

For example, if you decide to
BUY A RockWacker,
the process will begin with a
POSITIVELY EXCRUCIATING
qualification and negotiation period. Hell, the conclusion may be that we need to grow a special tree just for you, and you'll have to pay a premium to take delivery in twenty years.

Well, what would you expect, from a product with a
3,000 YEAR GUARANTEE!?!
and other fascinating features.

That is, only if you endure the embarassing and invasive collaborative design process, which demands that you reveal such things as
HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT YOUR MOTHER?
In fact, just to get warmed up, answer that one right now in 10,000 words or more and email the result to silent@wordless.us.

Also, under no circumstances will the price be as marked. That's a matter for discussion, which must be conducted without words, which will take everyone til their next birthday.

On the other hand,
CAFE PRESS
could not be enrolled in the lousy slow service ethic, but they make up for it by being
OVERPRICED,
so you can be assured that, even though your product arrives promptly, you paid too much and TheWordless didn't make squat.

Except for the
40% HERO SHIRT.
Order a dozen each week Sign up for updates from TheWordless by emailing silent@wordless.us, and you'll hear right away when Cafe Press allows sale of a 100% Hero Shirt.

TheWordless has unearthed some more
EXPERT TESTIMONY:

"Humanity has suffered wars, famine, depression, death and destruction that have stemmed in large part from the improper comprehension and use of our words."
Mary Cox Garner http://www.hiddensoulsofwords.com/

"I found I had less and less to say, until finally I became silent, and began to listen. I discovered in the silence, the voice of God."
Soren Kierkegard

"Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops--at all."
Emily Dickinson

"Silence is the great teacher, and to learn its lessons you must pay attention to it. There is no substitute for the creative inspiration, knowledge, and stability that come from knowing how to contact your core of inner silence. The great Sufi poet Rumi wrote, 'Only let the moving waters calm down, and the sun and moon will be reflected on the surface of your being."'
Deepak Chopra

"There are times when silence has the loudest voice."
Leroy Brownlow

"True silence is the rest of the mind; it is to the spirit what sleep is to the body, nourishment and refreshment."
William Penn

"Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise."
Proverbs 17:28

Those last several were found on http://successnet.org/home.htm

"When we talk about art, the words take us away from the art. Words deny us the art. Words distract, negate, and confound the feelings of what the art was meant to communicate. The simplest definition of art, one that covers all the arts, equally applying to any art, of any time period, medium, or culture, is: art is communication. Though, this definition, in its simplicity, is deceptive and insufficient. Words communicate, but are not in themselves art. Newspapers communicate, but reportage is not art. Art is communicating without words or what words cannot communicate. Even in poetry or prose, the art of it is in what is unspoken, that which is implied or inferred in the writing. It is in the feelings one lifts from the meaning. Art is what is painted in language, or drawn with color, or sculpted in clay, or voiced with music. Art is also in the act of viewing, listening, and reading. The beholder has the obligation to make an art of gleaning from the page of words, or paint, or stone the emotions and ideas we have no words for in language, to understand the work intuitively, as well as intellectually.
Talking about art is absurd and superfluous. (The irony of that statement is not lost.) If the art needs explaining, then it is not communicating. If the artwork needs a written clarification, then why not just write an essay? Say it well with words and the artwork is unnecessary. Art is for expressing feelings and notions that words can barely approximate.
This is why talking about art (and most artists' statements) leaves me baffled, disturbed, and lost in a cyclone of disconnected meaninglessness. Talking about art depreciates it. In today's world of misinformation, miscommunication, and the overload of messages from advertising, radio, TV, news, etc., it seems some silence would be beneficial. Silence to help us touch what we have been missing because of all the chatter.
Maybe it is time to be . . .
. . . in silence with art."
odo joseph galli from http://www.ojgportraits.com/

Finally, got some
COMMENTS FROM VISITORS:

I guess there is a balance somewhere because if we make ourselves too inaccessible, we leave ourselves difficult to interact with except on some metaphysically obtuse level.
The Monkess from http://www.dailyzen.com/

We want explanation not exploration; direction not discovery.
Kritik

I'm puzzled, curious, confused, and intrigued with your site.
odo joseph galli from http://www.ojgportraits.com/

Words cannot express how happy I was to see your email.
Shelley

"(and check out this hilarious link that was included - I loved the "Wordless" story, and the great photos of the logo all placed over the world!):"
Angela Treat, http://www.pigees.com/

What the hell?
Countless

I went to your website to find out what "Wordless" is about. Amusing website...but I still don't understand the wordless principle. If you are allowed to use them, could I get a few simple words of explanation about "Wordless"?
Richard Wassersug

So once again, for old time's sake, let's pretend that you can
AWAKEN
to all of the
LOVE, TRUTH, AND BEAUTY
in creation by visiting one website:
http://www.thewordless.com/.

Right now, say this out loud:

" !?! ."

More Weird Email from

2005-02-15T23:07:00.000-08:00

www.wordless.us

Clem Tillion and Batum Schragg were hanging around The Wordless booth at the Sunday Street Market. People of several stripes were coming by and asking questions like, "What is The Wordless?"

Clem Tillion would tell them, "I can't say." Batum Schragg would shrug.

Some other stripe would come by and ask, "What does it mean?" Tillion might titter while Schragg shrugged.

"What's this stick?" asked one young fellow. "I can answer that one," Tillion told him, "That's a RockWacker. And don't ask me the next question, 'cause I'll tell you, it's for Wacking Rocks."

"Why Wack Rocks?"

"Wrong question," Tillion told him. Batum threw up his hands and turned his back in disgust.

"Why?" asked the kid.

"Here," said Clem, "shut up and Wack that Rock. We brought one along for just that purpose."

This kid was probably about eight years old. His hair was fiery red but his expression was shy. Schragg suspected a mother of the doting type, in which case she would be nearby. Sure enough, a redhead hovered. Batum blinked at her, she blushed.

The RockWacker was taller than her son. But he hefted it like a seasoned warrior, whipped it up behind him and brought it down with a resounding crack. Then he looked at the rock as if he was expecting it to yelp, looked at the RockWacker thinking it might be broken. "Now what?" he asked.

"Now you pay a buck," claimed Clem.

"You never told me that," came back the kid. Because of the doting-type redhead, he was closer to tears than temper.

"I just did," calmly countered Clem. Shragg nodded sagely.

"I ain't payin no buck," the kid answered hotly. The redhead wanted to intervene, but Batum backed her off with a wave.

"If you do," Tillion said placatingly, "I'll let you Wack it again. That's two for one!"

You could tell the boy wanted to; by now he had it in for that rock. He turned to his momma, who was finally smiling. Without a word, she handed her son a dollar.

"Here you go, mister," said the kid. He was holding the money toward Tillion but his malevolent gaze was on the rock.

"Don't give it to me!" Tillion exclaimed. Schragg was making pushing-away motions toward the boy, who wasn't looking. The boy wrenched his eyes from the rock and stared at Tillion in perplexity, then at the dollar dangling from his hand.

"Give it to her," Clem directed, and gestured to a three year old girl who had stopped to watch. She was the smartest one around, giving that RockWacking kid wide berth and staring at Tillion like he was crazy.

But she took the buck.

After the kid took another mighty swipe and was bewildering that he hadn't produced better results, and wondering what better results might look like, Tillion asked the little girl if she wanted to Wack the Rock. She nodded.

"Got a buck?" he asked.

She waved the one she had just received.

"OK," said Clem, "Give it to that guy." By then there was a new kid watching.

The little girl's style was truly an inspiration. The RockWacker was twice as big as her, so she grasped it in the middle and held it like a tighrope walker's balance pole. Then she turned sideways and gave that rock the gentlest of little love taps.

The crowd went wild. Schragg was dancing. You could tell that she, too, was pleased, grinning hugely as Tillion took back the RockWacker. As it happened, there was another young stripe standing there with somebody's buck in his hand, and he wanted a little RockWacking action himself.

This went on for quite awhile, until one kid decided he'd rather keep the buck than Wack the Rock. Schragg smiled at the boy, Clem congratulated him and seamlessly returned to the parent pool for the next boy's buck.

It turned out some grownup stripes wanted to do a little RockWacking of their own, and this was allowed, but sometimes they had to pay more than a buck, which also got distributed into the crowd.

An astonishing array of RockWacking styles were displayed, the crowd of stripes cheering and jeering, oohing and booing.

While there was this backlog of wannabe Wackers, one of them asked about the big metal Wordless hanging from a stand. "Why, that's The Wordless Gong," Tillion told him, "and there just happens to be a GongWacker around here somewhere. Wanna give The Gong a go?"

So soon The Gong was going great guns, The RockWacking cracking, and all the stripes having a good old time. Batum Schragg was surreptitiously sliding money into his till, dishing out t-shirts, calendars, posters and such with The Wordless on them. There was a screen in the background, flashing a series of the most fascinating images, all of them featuring The Wordless in some fashion.

At one point a pin type stripe had wandered into the wrong neighborhood, and found himself requesting a go at The Gong. "That'll be a hundred bucks," Tillion told him. "Give it to them over there," and gestured to the Special Olympics booth next door. The deed was done and damned if it wasn't the finest, mellowest, lingeringest dong of the day.

"Got any idea how much money we lost today?" Clem queried Batum after the shooting was over.

Shragg shook his head.

"I lost track, too," lamented Clem, "But I figure we contributed several hundred dollars to the GDP without producing a damned thing and never touching a dime of it. Ain't modern economics a marvel?"

Batum's noggin bobbed enthusiastically.

http://www.wordless.us/.

Another Weird Email

2005-02-15T14:21:00.001-08:00

Posted by Batum Schragg

Sun shone warm on my scaly bare feet. Peaceful pigeons pecked popcorn there. Between my knees, the Djembe jolted all my bones as my bare hands bounced on it. Wearing my 40% Hero Shirt, with my RockWacker laid alongside, I went into the drumming.

People of various stripes sometimes stopped on their tour of the Farmer's Market. Some spoke, but of course I said nothing; replied with rhythm.

I must've started doing something right, because one female stripe lingered, caught in rhythm herself. So I reached into The Wordless bag and handed her the Gon. In no time she had it ringing righteously with All Rhythm.

When her boyfriend stripe arrived grooving, he received Chic Chac, and wove his rattly way into All Beat.

As stripes came and went, out of the miraculous Wordless Bag came Arm Drum and Mu, Cora and Turukabala. And when one particularly peaceful and grizzled old stripe stopped, he got a shruti box, to lay lingering longing beneath the frenzy and thump.

When one well-to-do stripe expressed desire for my shirt, without a word I accepted $400 and gave him the shirt off my back. Beneath it: another!?!

And when other stripes slipped bills into The Wordless Mug there, they got a smiling nod. All were welcome to take one of the Wordless Postcards arrayed alongside.

By now the neighborhood sported more stripes than a prison suit. They were rocking with racket, humming and hammering, drumming and dancing.

Needless to say, the pigeons had fled the party to perch elsewhere. Not for them, all this banging and boogying. So the police came, just as that warm sun tucked behind cold gray clouds, to discuss ordinances concerned with disturbing the pigeons. Since I declined comment, I was arrested.

Not even Clem Tillion could get me out of this one, so

Beware The Wordless life: it's not available where prohibited.

www.TheWordless.com

YOU DON'T SAY (I Got This Weird Email)::

2005-02-09T16:23:00.000-08:00

http://www.wordless.us/

What if I could
GUARANTEE ENLIGHTENMENT
with the push of a button!?!

What if I said you could
AWAKEN
to all of the
LOVE, TRUTH, AND BEAUTY
in creation by visiting one website!?!

And what if I told you that you could do all this
WITHOUT A SINGLE WORD!?!
Well, it's already too late for that, isn't it? And of course it's not likely,

But what if I buried a
SPECIAL OFFER
at the end of this letter to keep you reading!?!

Don't skip to it. Instead you can
ESCAPE THIS NONSENSE
by simply linking through to http://www.wordless.us/. Or persevere in internet marketing parody.

You might be thinking that
THIS IS NOT FUNNY
and you might be right, but I'm trying.

I want you to
LAUGH YOUR LEGS OFF
or at least that part of yourself immediately atop them. Then maybe you'll go to http://www.wordless.us/.

Because by now you've figured out that
WORDS CAN LIE
and that
THIS LETTER PROVES IT!?!

After all, it was several thousand years ago that a good old boy named Lao Tzu said,
"Those who know do not say. Those who say do not know."

Another acknowledged expert, a priest, in fact, named Anthony DeMello, said,
"Truth is never expressed in words. Truth is sighted suddenly, as a result of a certain attitude."

And a master wordsmith by the name of Rudyard Kipling both denigrated and exalted his own calling with this statement:
"Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind."

More expert testimony will follow in this letter, in case you need it and in the event you stay with it. Otherwise you can just go to http://www.wordless.us/.

What can any of this do for you? My hope is that you come to the enlightened realization that
MONEY DOES NOT MATTER
so that when I show you how to
SEND SOME TO ME
you will
JUST DO IT.

Non-attachment. That's one aspect of Spirit that The Wordless wants to help you with.

But
WAIT, THERE'S MORE!?!

We still haven't gotten to the
SPECIAL OFFER
because you might need more
EXPERT TESTIMONY

such as that from another master of the deceptive art named Joseph Conrad, who wrote,
"Words, as is well known, are the great foes of reality."

And, from an acknowledged Zen Master named Bankei Yotaku (1622-1693):
"Searching for words,

Hunting for phrases,

When will it end?

Esteeming knowledge

And gathering information

Only maddens the spirit.

Just entrust yourself

To your own nature,

Empty and illuminating.

Beyond this,

I have nothing to teach."

Even earlier than that, the mysterious I Ching had this to say:
"A quiet, wordless, self-contained joy, desiring nothing from without and resting content with everything, remains free of all egotistic likes and dislikes. In this freedom lies good fortune, because it harbors the quiet security of a heart fortified within itself."

Finally (for now), spiritual expostulator Paul Tilich wrote,
"Better that we remain silent and allow our soul, that is always longing for solitude, to sigh without words to God."

Here's what other seekers have sent after visiting the incomparable http://www.wordless.us/:

Sure, there are other wordlesses. There's a "dot com," and a "dot org," (no "dot net" yet), and they are just peachy dandy. In fact The Wordless at "dot you ess" links to them. There are also nowords dot coms and orgs and nets, I think. But we are talking here about The Wordless at "dot you ess" and we are pretending that you haven't lived until you've gone there, which you can do by clicking here: http://www.wordless.us/.

Maybe now it's finally time for that

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

SPECIAL OFFER:

If you will carry a flag bearing The Wordless to the top of Mount Everest,

and there take your picture with the flag,

and then send that picture to wordless@wordless.us, I will

MAKE YOU FAMOUS

(at least insofar as posting your photo at http://www.wordless.us/ can make you famous,)

AND

I will link that photo to your favorite website.
(see disclaimer)

WHAT THE HECK

Carry The Wordless flag to the top of any mountain and this special offer will apply. And since I can't supply Wordless flags yet, you can just wear a Wordless t-shirt, or a Wordless hat, or just hold up a Wordless postcard for the camera can see, or most especially display your RockWacker.

AW, SHUCKS,
TODAY ONLY

I must be crazy. Take a picture of any Wordless anywhere and I will honor the special offer, with photos of the critterthong given top priority.
(see disclaimer)

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

AND YES,
THERE'S STILL MORE
If you are an artist of any stripe other than writer, incorporate The Wordless image in any painting, sculpture, or etcetera, and you will earn

MY UNDYING DEVOTION
as well as a photo and a link. Now there's an offer not everyone will make!?!

That's enough special offer for now. If you want to occasionally receive special offers from The Wordless, when you go to http://www.wordless.us/, click the email link and tell me so. If not, do nothing, which is a policy almost as good as saying nothing.

http://www.wordless.us/

Disclaimer: If I don't like your art or your picture, I won't use it. If I don't like your link, I won't use it. If you do not find enlightenment, you will have to PROVE IT. Then I'll refund your wasted darkness. In order to prove your failure to find enlightenment you will have to appear before a jury of experts and present your evidence. I am the most important juror and I happen to know that you are already enlightened, you just don't know it. Any request for a refund will be taken as proof of enlightenment.

http://www.wordless.us/