Lazy sentences BOTHER ME.
They bother me because it's not really the sentence being lazy–it's the person who wrote it.
And if that person happens to be a business owner who's trying to convince me to spend my hard-earned, sweat-soaked, time-drenched money with them? They better demonstrate that they actually WANT MY BUSINESS. Want it enough that they'll actually think about the message they're sending me. Through their sentences. Through their words. Through each and every carefully placed motherfucking punctuation mark.
Because people that take their business seriously, take the user experience seriously, too.
And when you don't bother to take the time to make me EXCITED to do business with you? When you don't bother to take the time to help me FEEL something? When you don't bother to take the time to WRITE A SENTENCE WORTH READING?
You tell me that you're not worth buying from.
That's what a lazy sentence says to me. Hey there, jerkoff. I didn't care enough to put any effort into this sentence, because I don't care enough about the experience you have on my website, and I don't care enough about getting your business.
And if that's the case? Then you and your lazy sentences can piss off–while me and my money do, too.
An example of a lazy sentence might sound like this:
You can either live your life, or let it pass you by.
Yawnity yawn yawn snore. Why is that a deadbeat sentence? Because it's a tired sentence. It's a painfully cliché sentence. It's overused, overplayed, and so under impressionable. It makes me think nothing of you. In fact, it makes me not want to think about you at all. Because you must just be average. Commonplace. Run-of-the-mill. Because if you weren't? Your words would reflect it.–
P.P.S. (And a Z for good measure.)
I only rant, like, once a year. This was one of those times. I'd say I'm sorry, but that would be cliché. See how that works?