Toys in the Attic
Published July 28th, 2011 | 
I never had a train set as a kid. Never swung on a wooden swing set either. I’m not suggesting I was deprived as a child. Despite my modest working class upbringing, I had my share of toys.
And no … I don’t think we should define by the things we’ve been deprived of, but when I think of this debt crisis nonsense, I can’t help thinking these politicians just want to take all our toys away to give to rich assholes who have everything already. Am I wrong? My parents are scared to death that they won’t get their social security check next month. I’m worried that my own situation will never improve. Who is speaking for us? Why can’t our so-called leaders remove their heads from their hind parts long enough to do what’s best for the country for once?
Maybe Somebody Pissed in His Tea
Published April 22nd, 2011 | So my friend Cindy emails me this morning, telling me about this writer she’d published in the debut issue of Yellow Mama who requested that she remove his story and bio from the YM archive:
“I was wondering if you’d now be okay with removing it from the archives? This isn’t at all a comment on Yellow Mama, it’s simply that it’s a very old story that I’m not particularly happy with these days and, more importantly, a very out of date bio. The reason I ask now is that I’ve just sold a series of novels and this is coming up on the first page of google hits for my name; I’d much rather anyone looking for information on me was led to my current work and up to date information.”
Okay, so let me get this straight . . . guy wants his story and bio removed from her archive because he thinks the story sucks and his bio is out of date? Seriously? No, that’s not the reason because he goes on to say that he got himself a book deal and he doesn’t like it that YM’s page rank is higher than his own blog. How is that not a comment on YM? Of course it’s a comment on what he thinks of YM now that he imagines he’s in the big leagues.
Point one: As I told Cindy, since Cindy didn’t have an archive at the time she accepted the writer’s story and wasn’t accepting Internet archival rights at that time, the writer can technically request his removal. However, his reasons for doing so are ridiculous. Bios go out of date. Is he seriously going to write every editor who accepted his work and request they remove his bio? Of course not. And why would request the takedown of any link for information about him when he’s trying to promote a book? YM’s target audience is the same audience he’s trying to reach. Are you going to tell me that those readers don’t buy books?
Point two: If his blog doesn’t rank as high in Google as YM, why not, instead of fucking with YM’s page rank, do something constructive to raise the page rank of his own website?
Point three: What an arrogant dickhead! Who does he think he is? Let’s see . . . you’re an unknown writer who gets a story published by an editor and some years later, after you’ve made a little bit of a name (or at least after you imagine you’ve attained a certain level of literary celebrity), you decide it’s perfectly okay to take a big steaming dump on the editor because she knew you before you were sitting at the cool kids table. That’s fucking sad. I say, let’s dig some big ol’ outdoor fire pits, light’em up and toss his ass in for roasting.
Kiss My Asterisk Pt. 2
Published May 14th, 2010 | The poet who wrote to complain that I didn’t format his poem correctly still is not happy! Can you believe this shit? I made the changes he’d requested. But, no . . . apparently the formatting is still not correct:
I don’t know why this has to be so complicated. I guess it’s Gmail’s fault for screwing with the formatting. . . It bothers me to bother you but every writer wants to see their writing the way it was written. I can understand your exasperation; so you can possibly understand mine? If it can’t be fixed, then please just take it down. I appreciate your time with this.
-Tom
Okay, for the last time, I’ve reformatted the poem based on the version he sent in his current email (different only in respect to a few line breaks). But here’s the thing: Why in the fuck did he not just send the poem in a word file to begin with? It’s a simple thing. If I cannot expect him to send his poem in the proper format to begin with — to check his work accordingly before sending it out willy-nilly, then why should he expect me to format the poem properly? That’s point one. Point two is that, as editor, I reserve the right to format the poem as best as I see fit. And there was really nothing wrong with how I’d formatted the poem in the first place or how I’d reformatted it in the second place. So, I don’t really think he can understand why I’ve become so exasperated. Fuck it. I would take his poem down save for the fact that I’ve arguably spent more time on his poem at this juncture than he has. Enough. I’m off to the gym to reduce belly fat. The poet in question might consider doing some mental exercise to remove some fat from his thick skull.
