Language is a weapon to be used sparingly;
stockpiled for future use in case of surprise attack, superpowers struggle to achieve parity. Language riots break out in the most unlikely places, houses of Congress and houses of servants, bedrooms and boardrooms. Shibboleths maintain purity of the race, drawing lines in the sand where no borders yet exist. Harder than metal, cutting deeper than love, words are the ultimate weapon for the complete samurai, and the balance of power for the frail of body. Nouns are the hardware of battle, pawns under the control of knights and bishops. Verbs are the software, parries and thrusts and vast sweeping movements over rolling hills designed to trap the enemy in a scissors movement without exit. Sharpen your tongue and glean ammunition from slips of the enemy’s tongue, forced confessions, and bared chests. Then when the time is right, strike with the fury of a summer storm, fire and lightning with not a drop of rain in sight to cool the fevered brow. But remember to play fair, no reason to strike below the belt. Nothing hurts more than the truth when unloaded in a properly timed depth charge.