Learn to write “Smarter Than a Fifth Grader (Who Rode the Short Bus to School and Spend Five Years in Fifth Grade Before Being Passed ON)™.”
YW.
Po-tay-toe/Po-tah-toe?
Second ‘graph in an “isekai” novel apparently written by a seventh grade boy refers to a “weighty, hardcover novel” and references the weighty subject(s) it details:
“Every page was filled with gorgeous alien babes, heroic duels, and shitloads of Martian gold.”
Yeh. Filed in (digital) file 13. Hey! I gave it a fair shot! Circular filed after 1.5 paragraphs shows I gave it a “fair shot,” doesn’t it?
*smh*
At least by ditching it early I only killed a few “little grey cells.”
I finally discovered how so many subliterate Dunning-Krugerands who are hormonally stalled at seventh grade (but who have yet to conquer fifth grade vocabulary, grammar, etc.) can have the utter gall to self-publish:
“My mama told me I am a genius, so I don’t have to learn what it takes for other people to master the craft of writing, ‘cos I R so smart that I know everything!”
#gagamaggot
Other examples include an almost COMPLETE lack of firearms knowledge “informing” a Dunning-Krugerand’s descriptive narrative involving firearms. “No, chicky-poo. It does NOT work that way,” is a common thought when I run across a writer with an Alec Baldwin-level, Hollyweirdish “mis-stupid-ignorance” of firearms. *smh* “No, dearie. Keep the booger hook off the bang switch, and don’t look down the barrel that way unless you INTEND to end it all, mmmK?”
And then there are the dumbass Dunning-Krugerands who bailed out on science and technology before they skated past fifth grade “explaining” how chemical processes (say, making steel) work. “Yeh, sweetie, you can make a firearm out of what you describe, but expect to lose a hand, an eye, or your head when it blows up, ‘K?”
*smh*
Or writing about horses (riding, caring for, etc.) or camping or tracking or whatever: no, none of those things work like that. Oh, and talking to guuuurrrrls! *sigh* I swear, seventh grade boys’ hormone-damaged brains can come up with better dialog than some of these po’ autolobotomized dummies.
But, it’s a Brave New World where ANYONE can publish a book (and where even tradpubbed books are frequently as bad, because not just writers but gatekeeper editors, proofreaders, etc., are often just as subliterate as the worst self-pubs).
Special Features
PC Mag, once an informative source for info about, you know, PCs and related items now wants to clue me in about “The Best TVs under $1,000.” Yeh, well, if I’m gonna eke out juuuust under a kilobuck for a TV, it had better bring me my coffee. . . and shut itself off afterwards.
Stylin’ for the Coming Dhimmicrapocalypse?
The urban ghillie suit. Stylin’ for the “free range ‘organic’ vegan” hunter:
A Day Without Learning. . .
. . .is a day wasted.
Kinda late in the day already to be learning something new (to me), but after a few search-fu moves of great artistry, I now know enough about the lost city of Tolente to be, well, not dangerous, exactly, but annoying.
There’s your search prompt. Do with it what you will. Or won’t. 🙂
What is a “Gin-Saké”?
A cocktail for the brain damaged and morally-vapid WH press secretary: the Gin-Saké Martini.
Someone ought to start bringing her a barrel of the stuff for her press conferences. It would improve them a great deal.
ROE
I am not clear on the rules of engagement the Ukrainian resistance is operating under, though I would think that “anything goes” would be appropriate when dealing with an invader. . . (I’d include some soap flakes/shredded Styrofoam in gasoline/diesel-based Molotov Cocktails, were I making some for resistance, but maybe that’s just me. . . )
What’s This I Hear About a “Super Bowel”?
Yeh, I post things like this because you can’t stop me.
Room to Swing a Cat
Whenever I hear or read that phrase, I always catch at least a glimpse of my 5-y.o. self grabbing the tail of the mean cat from next door and hammer-throwing it back across the fence. Good times. . .
It’s the Little Things #4,831 *heh*
I kinda wonder sometimes. . . I see snippets of TV (because I rarely see anything worth watching for a longer time), and programs that show characters riding horseback are, at best, a mixed bag. Sometimes, they’re just sacks of potatoes jouncing along. Painfully. At other times, I see riders posting the trot, but even then it’s usually very badly–often because their stirrups are badly hung.
I really have to wonder what the various people involved in the filming–from the actors to the directors to, well, whatever horse wrangler they may (or may not?) have are thinking. *smh*
But then, there’s the “Little Thing” #10 (and I am surprised there are any more highly ranked, but then. . . ): complete, total, and absolute blank space where firearms knowledge should exist in the script, direction, and action. That’s higher ranked, of course, because it’s dangerous (and not only on the set!).