Words spoken bluntly deliver force, or impact, but in a subdued fashion, in a presentation that deliberately avoids what we call drama or dramatics, avoids hysteria and other shows of passion. The impact is there, in blunt words, but not a show, or performance of wit or slander or other intimation of self-aggrandizement or disrespect or intimidation.

Blatant, now, reminds me of Rick R. I hope Rick forgives me for recalling this particular conversation. See, Rick proposed a system of classifying people. Rick felt that everyone was an a–hole. He called his classification system the BLT System. One might be a Blatant a–hole, a Latent a–hole, or a Terminal a–hole. Rick’s career may have advanced from software engineering in the years since, but his words that day remain with me.

Blatant – it walks like a duck, it squawks like a duck – hey, it’s a duck. That is blatant, all the signs and signals, the identifying features are brightly and loudly present and presented. A show, a presentation “larger than life”, a dramatic flair intended to emphasize a point or image by overplaying it. Blatant communications often carry an implied disrespect for the target, since respect would assume a reasonable and responsible person would “get the point” from common and casual communication.

(Latent, from the BLT system, meant that one’s a–hole nature wasn’t apparent or active at the moment. Latent is a time measure, describing an event yet to happen. Terminal in BLT terms is used in the “end of life” meaning of terminal – all the features of an a–hole are in overabundant action, are all too apparent, and unbearably offensive. Sorry, Rick.)

(Just to be complete, an a–hole would be what my mother calls a “grace” person – you have to have grace from above to tolerate or deal with a “grace” person. That is, disagreeable, burdensome, and you cannot avoid them.)

Anyway, that is how I remember about “blatant”.