Tuesday, November 15, 2011

The Big Reason Why

Concerning the madness that is the current state of the publishing industry:

I should not be bothering.  People are BUYING, with apparent intellectual deliberation, apparently with actual money, books about whales that live in the center of the sun.  Fuck me.

First of all, how would you get close enough to the actual sun to determine it had life forms within it, and then how would you be able to navigate through the corona of blazing hydrogen in order to communicate and interact with the creatures you there discovered.  And, if any type of life form was able (were able?) to evolve under the conditions that exist within the center of  the sun that must be rather horrendous considering that the end result is a corona of blazing hydrogen, why would that life form be a fucking whale.  Seriously?

And B, why would anyone choose to interact with that life form if they did happen to be able to transnavigate the possible hazards of entering and hoping to exit a blazing hydrogen corona. Were they hoping to gather information that would be useful to them the next time they choose to discover whether or not it would be possible to enter the center of an object in space whose corona was perhaps blazing nitrogen?

And last and least, why would anyone want to write about such an unlikely combination of specific threads?  I am thinking taking those little poetry magnets off the fridge door and shaking them about in a plastic jug and allowing seven of them to fall to the floor which would then become the title of your next literary masterpiece.

And then again, WHY would someone want to read about it?  I am sure the person that entered the sun was the same person who owned the derelict salvage hauling space craft that contained the cargo of eggs which held embryonic, almost ready to hatch, male sex slaves with two peni.  Fucking big eggs I imagine.  Either that or really tiny male sex slaves with therefore tinier peni, explaining in a logical sort of way why he had to have two of them.

This is a BUSINESS that people sit around and form marketing plans for, and discuss, and go to school and pay a lot of tuition money to be accepted in the world of publishing. But then again, considering what is going on around me, tomorrow the cable tale, why would I expect anything other than complete insanity?  And why do I worry about what is going on inside my head.  It beats the hell out of what y'all are trying desperately to pass off as reality.  


  1. A) While the girls and I were out Saturday night (you know, the evening which inluded the Drag show...) we actually used the word "peni" in a discussion. Weird.

    2) I am going to develop a signature cocktail and name it "Blazing Hydrogen Corona".

    I love your writing, and I'm not just saying that because I have to.

    Poor whales....I bet they were really fuckin' uncomfortable....tons of blubber and all....

  2. (were able)

    We (the editorial "we" -- not me personally) are so eager to escape the meager confines of our own minds that we will read anything not remotely connect to reality. wtf. I should not be bothering, either.


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