The Life of a Peccadillo…

By Strict Order from My Publicist, Dorothy Thompson: I must place my ads up at the top of my post versus the bottom where, if some don’t actually READ said post (and how would that ever be possible), they will still see the ad. [from the brain of a good marketer, that]Spider-Brains-Blog-Tour

So, “The Life of a Peccadillo”…is a sad, sad, miserable life.

This post will assume a few things.

7-legged-pecadillo First, that we stand here today viewing a pecadillo at the end of its useless existence. And, second, that all of us have these ugly little seven-legged critters running around our homes at times. Much like rats or cockroaches, the pecadillo can slip under a door undetected and then, one morning when you awaken, there’s one sitting with all of its gangly legs across your face! The horror.

But, sometimes other people’s pecadillos will end up in our house too! Eek.

THAT’s, like, the worst possible scenario because if you think about it, we learn to accept our own pecadillos—embrace them, maybe even love them. And after one enters our home, we tend to just step over it and ignore it because it is OURS and we have learned to live with it. They seem cute to us. Cuddly. (Example: Notice how many times I use the word “it” in this one paragraph. I hate the word “it” but have come to love that hatred. I’m fine with it.)

When other people’s pecadillos show up, suddenly, we get the broom and beat the thing into a metaphorical mash of smithereens! We look at their pecadillo with scorn and distaste and even scoff and jeer at it. And that ain’t good.

dishwasher-loading-yes I have pecadillos. I do. Mine are gangly and weird but they’re all mine. My favorite little pecadillo (you might’ve guessed from yesterday’s post) is very clean, organized and symmetric and I call her, Dishwasher Loading. I love her. I just found out that my sister, Elizabeth, has its twin—it’s a family thing! This pleases me to no end. 🙂

So, this morning, when I got a comment from yesterday’s post through a LinkedIn group I belong to, from a man with a name that sounds like a chronic medical condition in the lower hemisphere of his body, and this man tells me that his pecadillo hates the word “Sci-Fi” and (he adds) there are others out there like him, litter mates all across the globe, I guess, of his pecadillo, well I felt the need to post.

I mean, the animal world, the medical world and the literary world should put their collective heads together and try to come up with a cure for him. His pecadillo attacks a solitary and harmless hyphenated word: Sci-Fi.

His comment, and I quote is: “I wish people would realise that some of us view “sic-fi” as a derogatory term. Can you please use “science fiction” or “SF” instead?”

To which I responded:

“You actually take offense at a hyphenated WORD? But you’re okay with an acronym such as SF? Whoa. I never thought I’d see the day. BTW, Forrest J. Ackerman (a fairly famous horror/Sci-Fi actor) publicly used the term “sci-fi” at UCLA in 1954. And, Robert A. Heinlein (for crying out loud) had used it in private correspondence six years earlier. If this term has been used by these guys and THESE guys didn’t take offense, well, then I think that says something.”

I mean, what’s the psychology department for his pecadillo?

Maybe I shouldn’t have responded at all. Maybe. Maybe I should’ve let it slide off my many other pecadillos’ backs. But I just couldn’t.

SusanTiedUp Bob, my husband (not to be confused with Robert, our dog) has a few pecadillos too. One, he alerted me just yesterday is that I always write about him.

If I’m not going to stop writing about Bob, and I’m not, then why in God’s Green Acres would I EVER stop saying “Sci-Fi.”

Oh, that’s right! I wouldn’t.

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