Over at his Protest Emporium (a booming business just now), my good friend Guy Morley often receives diatribes and lathered complaints among his requests.
Sometimes he shares one with me. Today he sent the following online letter to me, figuring I would appreciate the writers’ extraordinary use of archaic English and declaration of the benefits of reading during such times. I’m sharing it with you for amusement purposes.
But be forewarned: some people may be inadvertently offended by its contents:
‘Can we get back to reading and writing great novels, please? Is that cool?
If not, then we can certainly imagine how delightful it would be to fustigate some of these philodox bandits vandalizing American property (and Apple products). Does it make a lick of sense to these cacozelots to tear down statues of Washington, Grant, and even the Great Emancipator himself, Abraham Lincoln?
Every group roaming the American plains and urban streets today is in need of a great herder, a man of wisdom and self-control, who teaches peace and walks the line of uprightness.
What do you get when angry offended people gather together without a clear goal in mind other than to fulfill the agenda of SPUSA? A mob. A mindless mass comprised of fopdoodles and snollygosters. These poor offended snivelards and clatterfarts lack direction and purpose.
Oh yes, we’ve all heard the inane claims: women’s rights; black lives matter most; it’s my body I can kill my baby if I want; Pride Parades with rainbows and clowns; the gender-confused and gender-bashers.
What in blazes do these quibberdicks do when they’re not whining about getting rights they already have? Women and ‘PoC’ and the frotting pridesters already possess the rights, freedoms, and opportunities everyone else enjoys (and by everyone else we mean of course straight white Christian men, those homophobic racist judgmental toxic creatures of the old guard).
When rioters destroy property, committing crimes and spreading hatred, saner heads should prevail. Back in the long ago, when someone broke into a business, they were arrested. Today these same creodonts are rewarded with obsessive media attention and gubermillions for ‘reparations’, with a heaping side of solidarity. After all, we must stand by our keening hordes.
Why should businesses donate to hungry children and those with genuine illnesses when they can cater to sniveling masses of scobberlotchers and naffins? Yeah boy, solidarity for the mobs! Let’s pay the feculent fawns and dunderwhelps who seek nothing more than a calendar filled with 365 days of the Purge.
Gone are the calm wise voices of MLK Jr. and Billy Graham, Gandhi and Reagan. Now we have lobcocks and lubbards who think wisdom resides in the loudest voice, the troating ginks.
Maybe if they sat down and read The Dresden Files or perused The Shipping News, a Pulitzed work of art, they wouldn’t find standing in the street holding up a shilpit chunk of cardboard so appealing. Do these blatherskites take their fawning placards home when they’re done filching Apple products? What a bunch of fustilarians.
Shut up snowflakes. Go home and count your tears.
Vandal: a person who deliberately destroys or damages public or private property.
Hmm, sound familiar?
God forbid the police should arrest these scandalous vandals.’
Well, take a breath with me after reading that. Whooo doggie! Makes me want to sit back and dive into a nice fictional adventure, take me away from our riled times.
And that’s really the point of fiction, isn’t it? It is the great distracter. Stories of other peoples’ problems have always engaged the mind of those who love to read, to discover other realities between two covers of peace.