Heel, Merriam-Webster, and Twitter
President Trump released a tweet Saturday in which he misspelled the word “heal.”
As always, President Trump grasps the powerful consciousness of any action he takes.
Certainly, the president of the Unites States can have someone proofread his tweets. However, the fact that he misspells words in his tweets (this isn’t the first time) allows the powerful influence of humanity to saturate his twitter message.
There’s a powerful psychology happening when a word is misspelled on a tweet, especially one that is the focus of his message.
When one sees the tweet, they are left with a conviction that the President himself did, in fact, send the tweet, not some White House staffer, and gives the tweet message much more consequence and weight to his supporters and potential backers than if it had been spelled perfect.
To then have his enemies attack him for his imperfection brings him to the level of humanity that people can relate to.
As the great American Storyteller, I appreciate this humanity. It is the central component I seek to convey in every word I inscribe and every story I tell.
Only a quality leader would take such a risk—to expose his vulnerability, the better to touch and connect at the emotional level of his constituency.
A higher quality leader—like Trump—is able to grasp the psychological components at play.
Jerry Lewis—the Ageless Twelve-Year-Old
When I learned that Jerry Lewis died, I was left sad and hurt.
It’s a sad day for comedy, and for humanity.
No matter what you thought of him, Jerry Lewis was a giant of a man, in both talent and compassion.
Born Joseph Levitch, in Newark, New Jersey, by his twenties he’d already become a Hollywood star, partnering with Dean Martin to produce some of the best slapstick comedy in history.
After their partnership ended, Lewis went on to have a successful solo career, writing, directing, and starring in numerous box office hits, including The Nutty Professor.
However, it was in his philanthropic undertakings—highlighted by his stint as national chairman of and spokesman for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, from 1952 to 2011—where he shined brightest. Over the course of sixty years, he raised over $2.6 billion in donations for the cause and arguably saved, and/or extended the lives of many children, who otherwise would have suffered and died without hope.
The world is darker with Jerry Lewis gone, and nowhere near as funny.
And I—the American Storyteller—am left searching for a long-ago laughter to make me feel the emotions of a child.