Category: *heh*

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Classes of Writers

There are two main classes of writers that can — broadly — be discerned by this bright line divider:

1. Those who know how to use and appropriately do use m-dashes.
2. Pseudoliterate imposters (whose “work” is usually edited by lobotomized Bonobo Chimpanzees).

Oh, there are many other indicators, but that one will generally do the trick.

YW.

🙂

There may be those among my (2?) readers who question which class I belong in based on my own use of an m-dash above. If so, nanny-nanny-boo-boo to you. *heh*

BTW, I read the occassional pseudoliterate imposter for the dubious pleasure of making snarky comments in notes, then reposting those notes in a Amazon review. Yeh, it’s kinda mean, but they EARNED it. One such pseudoliterate imposter I read recently described a wedding (it was in an “action hero” sort of seventh grade boys’ fantasy). My impression of the “classy” (so asserted by pseudoliterate imposter) wedding was of a kinda trashy “trailer park” wedding. (And yes, I know some perfectly nice folks also live in trailer parks, but I’m invoking the “TPTrash” meme for shorthand, here.) It was a hoot trashing that, since it had already trashed itself.

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Humor, NOT

Tried to find a contemporary sitcom (“situation COMEDY”) to watch the other night. Was unsuccessful. Nothing comedic on. Maybe it would help if I knocked a few IQ points off with a Hivemind-issued autolobotomy kit (where “a few IQ points” = more than half those available).

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“Being of Sound Mind. . . “

Thinking of modding my will, beginning with the portion, “being of sound mind” to “being of sound mind–well, at least as sound as it’s ever been, and I DGARA about those who think it’s always been a bit shaky, especially since I’m beyond their reach, now. . . ”

I’d like to proceed from there with even more snark, but we’ll just have to see how that does, eh?

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Olde Pharte Syndrome® Strikes Again

Now and again, I hear (between my ears) Ravenscroft’s voice singing the melody to “You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch” but with different lyrics featuring Son&Heir’s dog. . .

“You’re a good dog, Mr. Hobbs. . . ”

And that quite often invokes Olde Pharte Syndrome®, and I am transported (again, between my ears) back to Capitol Recording, LA, 1971, where my intro to 70s-era recording technology was performed by Bud Cole, Ravenscroft’s frequent sound engineer/producer, chatting with me as he worked the board.

Ah! Memories. They are what tell us when we have gotten old enough, eh? *heh*

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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).

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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.