Perfection

by Billly K. Baker -- 

To be perfectly honest, despite the title above, this little étude does not study perfection in all its glory. Rather, it merely highlights foibles we mortals employ so carelessly.

Politicians and learned men may disagree with me, but I honestly believe honesty is an absolute. To wit, a statement is honest or not; it cannot be halfway honest. Hence, the term “perfectly honest” simply wastes an English adverb. To put it another way, is ever a remark “imperfectly honest?

And notice how devious we can be about perfection. If someone says, “Of course, it is perfectly legal,” I immediately suspect the thing to be immoral or unethical. Otherwise, they’d just say “legal” and be done with it.

Or consider a rookie steelworker, ninety stories up, pondering his first step on a suspended girder. He might say, in a silent, shaky voice, “I hope it is perfectly level.” Observe that “perfectly,” here, has nothing to do with the girder’s levelness. He’s using the word as a prayer.

Similarly, a boy straddling a barbed wire fence, feet dangling, might wish to be perfectly balanced. Of course, “balanced” by itself would suffice; the word “perfectly” is perfectly superfluous. (Oops!) Anyway, we have to wonder about that boy. He’s probably the kind of lad who would blithely go for a stroll in traffic.

Take sandpaper as another example; it may be coarse or fine, but as far as I know, it is never “perfectly” fine … although I suppose the carpenter may feel perfectly fine (Oops! again).

I’m in a silly mood, so you may want to avert your eyes while reading the next four paragraphs.

That said, I’m getting weary of hearing, “That said,” which as far as I can tell means, “Forget what I just told you. … Now I’ll give you the real scoop.” It seems every newsperson, every commentator, every interviewee (or should that be interviewheeeee? [I’ve got to stop snorting bananas]) … anyway, everybody on TV news shows is honor-bound to say, “That said.” Maybe it’s in their contracts.

That said, let me be clear about something, and I have to be careful here since sometimes I think sometimes I don’t think sometimes. “Let me be perfectly clear …” That’s another phrase I hear once a day, on average.

Let me be clear: When I hear “Let me be perfectly clear,” it brings up an image of two football teams facing off. Team A says, “Let me be clear.” Team B (its real name is Team Q, but I’m using “Team B” for anonymity) … anyway, Team B says “Let me be perfectly clear,” thereby winning the scrimmage by clever use of italics. Where was I? Oh, yes. Team B wins on points, or rather a point of emphasis, but the result must be overturned. Why? Because a foul was committed: You can’t be more clear than clear. “Perfectly clear” doesn’t change a thing, no matter how loudly you shout.

You see, “clear” has evolved over the ages. In Stone Age times, “clear” meant opaque, but those were primitive days. By the Middle Ages, “clear” began to mean translucent, showing how mankind was progressing. Now, in modern times, “clear” has zipped right past meaning transparent­ to achieve its present state of … um … perfection: “Clear” means clear; you can’t get any clearer. I hope this was all perfectly clear.

To conclude, let it be noted, as is often said, “Nobody is perfect.” To that, I eagerly respond, “Well … I’m a nobody.”

Sign up to receive updates and the Friday File email notices.

Support local, independent news – contribute to The Fallon Post, your non-profit (501c3) online news source for all things Fallon.

The Fallon Post -- 1951 W. Williams #385, Fallon, Nevada 89406