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 |  Politically Incorrect Mutterings, Mostly I think it's poems so in with poems it goes |
| Once upon a time there was a very sensitive sardine sandwich, who enjoyed sharing his writing on the Internet. The sardine sandwich's best friend and worst critic was an erudite whale, who liked to swim around the sandwich, pontificating wisdom as it occurred to him. Once in a while, their fellow writers would gather on the banks of the waterway, grazing in the grass. You see, they were a herd of comely cows and bulls who liked to read and review every type of creature's writing. Sardine sandwich, whale or octopus, it was all the same to them. Besides grazing on tasty hay, they loved nothing better than a good read in the barn. Their spokesman was a brave and handsome bull called "Hooves".  On a sunny spring day in May, the bulls and cows all congregated at the water's edge to watch the sardine sandwich throw a fit. The moos were kept to a minimum in order to hear all the potential gossip to be digested later on the Moosfeed, the place where all bovines chew their daily news. "Well, I never!" The sardine sandwich huffed and spit. "What is it now, SS?" sighed the whale, stopping in the middle of one of his signature Figure 8 swimming demonstrations that cow and bull audiences always seemed to enjoy so much. "Some particularly articulate bovine reviewer had the nerve to tell me that I'm guilty of head-hopping!" exclaimed the sardine sandwich. There was a gasp, followed by silence among the herd. Who had been singled out here? They wondered who the offender might be. Suddenly there was a release of overwhelming noxious fumes and immediately the subject was changed to the content of the review, instead of the identity of the messenger. Hooves smiled the smile of contentment. The whale emitted the sigh of long suffering patience that goes with many years of mutually supportive friendship. "SS, that's just the latest craze in reviewing. It's a fad. It means nothing and it's nonsense like that old show and don't tell garbage. Half the bestsellers on the market now shift points of view from chapter to chapter. I'm reading one now called, 'Wilde Lake,' by Laura Lippman." "Oh, so you mean this cow isn't up to date on best writing practices?" The sardine sandwich looked hopefully at his best friend. "You could say that," replied the Whale. "Or, you could say that a reviewer that resorts to trite, well worn phrases like 'head-hopping' lacks imagination. Write your own story and tell it the way that works best for you. That's the only advice that makes sense in this world." Feeling guilty, one of the husky bovines emitted another stunning odor from his hindquarters. "And he smells, too!" Hooves mooed in order to deflect suspicion from his own nether regions. "Does it smell worse than me?" queried the hopeful sardine sandwich. "Today he does," mooed the herd. "Today he does," echoed the whale. |
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