Some say, without exception, that weasel
words are unambiguously bad.
This is somewhat like painter taking care to keep his easel
free of nuanced color. It makes me sad.
I won't call them the writers of the green
book, since it seems likely they'd prefer
pure blue or yellow. Fair enough. I've seen
little lovelier than daffodils and sky, yet there were
always in such scenes some subtler hues.
On this, I will not equivocate or hedge.
I use weasel words, and will defend much of their use.
Regardless of who does it, it's a travesty to wedge
the dappled truth into some simple view
without a word of warning when you do.
A pair of sonnets for St. John the Baptist.
2 days ago