What I find funny about Penny is that she comes in and accuses of verbosity, while at the same time posturing with her vocabulary and coming off as an intellectual herself. It seems that someone who would be genuinely asking this question would consider themselves on a lower level, someone who just uses normal everyday words and simple answers (like myself. :))
That maybe “a” point of communication, but it’s not the only point. If you grunt and point at your belly, do you have a stomach ache, are you hungry, too full? If you’re hungry, what can I get you? Are you allergic to anything, keep kosher? Plus, are you peckish, ravenous, feel like a nosh, etc. How will I know with a simple grunt?
Sometimes the point is to fully communicate and that requires more words than a “grunt” equivalent post will suffice. Plus, sometimes there is additional meaning in the specific words you choose. Individual words can convey meaning beyond their simple definition, so choosing how you communicate something can be greater than the sum of its parts. Adding a few extra words can add to the meaning more than the number of extra words might suggest they will.
Sometimes the point is to write well. An elegant, if wordier, post is simply a beautiful thing. Shakespeare could be pared down to simple “communication” of a story, but oh what would be lost then! Sure every message board post is probably not a Shakespearean soliloquy, but the idea applies.
On the other hand, if all you offer is a paucity of worthwhile content, what then is the point? I vote you go away, attention-seeker. And yes, you have posted enough for me to assign you to a row. You can don the pointed cap on the way to your seat, or out the door.
I’m more of a Dickens fan myself.
Dammit, you were so close! 
Ooh, Mr. Fancypants - “I use words to keep the aliens away!” Tinfoil hats not good enough for you?
The answer to any question which opens “Is it me or . . .” is, at first approximation, “Yes, it is you.”
+1
(I’m trying to be less wordy these days. Well, not really, but I am pretty aware that I’m a wordy sonofabitch and have even been called out on it recently–in a backhanded kind of way.)
“Eschew surplusage.”
Right. You’re just like Mark Twain.
I use as many words as I need elephant.
He also didn’t suffer fools gladly. It seems the board is stuck suffering for a while. Though probably not gladly.
Well, I’ll be superamalgamated.
Bullshit.
Are you merely communicating your hunger? Or communicating your desire for somebody to satiate your hunger? And/or communicating you do not care one bit about how you come across to the person you expect to serve you food?
You aren’t merely communicating your hunger but also your expectations and your perception of relative social position and several other things.
Even children understand that grunting and pointing to their stomachs is not an appropriate way to communicate hunger.
Pseudo-intellectualism is all the intellectualism some of us got. 
No, this simply won’t do, it won’t do at all. Twain was not opposed to verbosity, he was opposed to needless verbosity, if it took one hundred words to set up his punch line, then one hundred it was, but one hundred precisely chosen words, not one hundred synonyms pressed into counterfeit service.
The English author of his age would take page after page to set up his dramatic moment in the garden, where we might finally expect Lady Winsome to reveal the Dark Secret that forbids her acceptance of Lord Blatherskate’s ardent pursuit. But first, the garden! The garden must be explored and described in exacting detail. No, excruciating detail, every shrubbery, every vine, the burdened reader must have it all, save for the gnarled old gardener who’s life was squandered in attendance. Lady Winsome does not know his name, does not notice his presence, the author does not, nor will the reader, but the hedge he is trimming is lavishly described.
In the meantime, the characters have wandered off in their nobly feckless fashion, it is afternoon by now, and Lord Blatherskate needs to change his cravat accordingly. Lady Winsome has stumbled and fallen face down into a poorly placed fountain. Being unattended by servants, she has drowned, like a dim reflection of Ophelia. Her dark secret is lost, but the reader has quite forgotten it by now, and is left only with the surety that she had a rather splendid garden.
'Luci, I must admit to a great fondness for you. Perhaps…but, no! It must not be…
ti;cr
[sub]too intellectual; couldn’t read[/sub]
I read about this! You’re the chick that was booted from Denny’s, right?
How much troll could a non-troll troll if a non-troll could troll trolls?
Not to mention “menntion.”
(kayT: Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Be not pissed.)
If you are so moved, I can include your delivered restraining order in my collection. I have a whole wall in my living room wallpapered just with those from Rachel Maddow and Elizabeth Warren.