To like or not to like, know what I mean?
Communications, whether genetic or through common speech, can have its empty spots when we are literally without words, but nature, and human nature finds a way. Consider cloning. If you have a dinosaur that you wish to resurrect from the bone yard, it’s understandable that you will likely have an incomplete DNA code. Never fear, for you can use some handily available frog DNA to tie together the missing DNA sequences. And we know how that turned out! When nature’s code is broken, enterprising humans can just add a few strands of genetic text, and presto, you have dino replicas that just happen to replicate like frogs, perfect specimens for your soon to open Jurassic Park!
The same thing applies to the fractured syntax of the modern word, where complete sentences are becoming as rare as the complete genome of a Triceratops. As we move into the post-literate era when the printed word is replaced by pictures, sound bites, and videos displayed on our electronic appendages, we find that the DNA of our common language is becoming more fractured than ever, and we need frog like words and phrases to glue it all together and connect the broken threads of our thought, more or less. The one thing we can be sure of is that this new speak is multiplying like crazy, you know, like frogs, like, you know what I mean?
Olde Speak vs. New Speak
HAMLET (olde speak) HAMLET (new speak)
To be, or not to be? That is the question— To be or not to be? You know what I mean?
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer Like whether its noble in the mind to hurt real bad
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, The slings and arrows of bad luck,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, or just get all riled up against all this awful stuff
And, by opposing, end them? To die, to sleep or just being, you know, stubborn, or to off myself
No more—and by a sleep to say we end Like, just to doze off, you know what I’m sayin?
The heartache and the thousand natural shocks What a headache, and like, its throbbing
That flesh is heir to—’tis a consummation I’m achy all over.
Devoutly to be wished! To die, to sleep. I wish I was dead, or conk out
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub, Or just doze off and enter dreamland, but like,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come What about my dreams, know what I mean?
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Like, when we’re really dead, and haunting stuff
Must give us pause. There’s the respect Give me a break, like, I’m really thinking
That makes calamity of so long life. And living long is a pain, know what I’m sayin?