Letter Day: 10ish, In defence of our journalistic mandate
December 11, 2006
I walked through the valley of the shadow of death…or was it the shadow of the valley of of death…either way it was fairly dark and there was very little foot traffic. Point being it was very unhappy there, as they, unlike us, do not have a letter day. Let’s get down to business.
Do you prefer writing for an audience, or for your own private satisfaction?
I really dig the idea of random strangers reading my stuff, but the danger inherent in writing to an audience is how quickly it can become writing for an audience. In the pursuit of broader appeal your narrative voice can be pandered under a flow passible content. It’s a surreal feeling to look down and know, causally speaking, that you wrote something, yet finding almost nothing of your self in it.
It’s akin to difference between being funny, and being a clown. It’s cool being able to make people laugh, but you never want to need them to laugh.
Who the fuck do you think you are that you can pass judgement on the nations of the world? You can take all the smug, inaccurate, little cheap shots you want and it still won’t make you third rate Blog, and fourth rate life, mean a goddamn thing.
Disgusted member of the world community
Do you realize how morally reprehensible it is to validate a brutal dictator like Kim Jong Il? I know you think it’s cool and ironic to portray some glib affection for a despot, but it deeply disrespectful to all those who suffered beneath him.
(I’m going to give these two letters a package response for obvious reasons )
Look, If I was concerned being popular I’d work for some fancy uptown magazine writing articles like “AJ Valliant arbitrarily ranks the fluffiest foo foo kittens in happy basket land”, but I’m not…concerned about being popular; plus I work this third rate website that allows me to fulfill my journalistic mandate, and write sentences as long as I please.
I am here to lay down the facts as I, in addition my vast research staff and supercomputer, arbitrarily decided them…regardless of how political correct or clearly unfair the end result may be. And I’ll be damned if I let a few flag sniffing, whale riding, taking bong hits out back with Kofi Annan’n, bleeding hearts slow me down.
Ps. When you fire a missile over Japan then you can judge Kim Jong Il, not before.
My kid won’t talk to me. Any advice?
As I child my stock response to any question about my behaviour, or mental process, was “I don’t know”; and it almost always meant “I don’t think you will understand”. For a kid who spent 99% of his time lost inside his head, the idea of trying to externalize any part of that inner world, knowing there was no frame of reference or context I could impart, was an exercise in futility . Even more frustrating was the realization that most people will only accept an answer within a few standard deviations of the expected one, so even if I could decrypt my motivation enough to relate it, it would likely be disregarded as irrelevant.
In short the answer is: Smart kids see no point in talking to you, and stupid kids have nothing to say. I’ll leave it up to you to decide which your brat is.
 I learned pretty early it was easier to let my parents think I was endlessly destructive child, than try explain how I hammered out their best pots in hopes of building a transceiver to amplify my ability to perceive subtle reality shifts (so that I could tell if I had slipped into a parallel dimension or not). I realized I was a crazy little bastard, but the idea of deconstructing my intricate delusions for some random question was a complete non starter.
Well, that’s all for a rather weighty and contentious letter day. My sources deep inside Beats Entropy tell me this week will be three times finer than our previous finest week…which to be honest was fairly substandard… essentialy we are just hoping to keep our heads above water here. Please send food, I haven’t eaten in days.