Dare To Be Stupid

Or, How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Be A Fat, Dumb American

Whee, a nice long organized rant ^_^ Follow the lines of capital letters, kids!

Actually, it's considerably shorter now that I've taken out all the self-pitying crap...

INTRODUCTION:

Yes on land it's much preferred
For ladies not to say a word
And after all, dear, what is idle prattle for?

FIRST POINT: (Origin)

I just read...something...that made me rather angry.

A journal post by a fanfic author I admire (in the Matrix fandom--the rest of you can quit holding your breath now). She's clearly a very intelligent person, and very richly educated in the cultural arena.

She sees fit, not only to boast about it, but to harangue the rest of the general populace for not having had those experiences.

Get used to something, darling: most of us, worldwide, are intolerably stupid.

SECOND POINT: (Continuation)

For some of us, blissful psuedo-idiocy has come at a very steep price, indeed.

Change the pitch up?
Smack my bitch up!

I got tired of reading. You read enough science-fiction books and eventually they're all the same. The only reason I'm not burned out with literature is that I never liked it much in the first place. It's the same for true crime, "general fiction", most "historical" novels (the heavy nonsexy ones by, say, James Michener--the ones that all promise "Most Thought-Provoking Novel of Our Time!" on the covers and are never anything of the kind), romance, modern horror, plays, and coffee-table treatises (treatisi?) on pop culture.

I've damn well read (or ignored) pretty much all of them.

It hasn't made me a happier person. Quite the opposite. Life is good until you hit that invisible ceiling.

Smack my bitch up!

Relax, I'm not talking about sexism.

I'm talking about that razor-fine annoyance that sticks you in the back of your mind at 4am while you're trying for the eighth time to curl your brain around Neitzche or Shakespeare or Plato.

(Like this!)

That moment where you realize: I don't understand this, and I never will understand this, because I just--am--not--smart--enough.

You know the one.

That's when your eyes burn from sorting out the tiny print and little superscripted numbers. When your head hurts so much that a small train running over your skull might actually improve the sensation. When you sit and shiver with dread, because if anyone ever finds out that you're faking it, that you're really just a consummate bullshit artist, they'll have a real good laugh at your expense and everything you've worked so hard for will vaporize.

Change the pitch up?

And the only reason you're stuck doing it in the first place, killing yourself like that, is because in a moment of ignorance you admitted you were smart.

I quit. At the end of the high school graduation ceremony, it was over. Done. Finished.

In short, I don't have to take it anymore.

Smack my bitch up!

I do read comic books and manga. In small doses so as not to get bored. And fanfiction--LOTS of fanfiction. Good, bad, indifferent, illegible, spectacular--whatever. Bring it on. At least I don't have to pay eight bucks a whack for fanfic.

(Like this!)

CONCLUDING POINT OF THE RANT:

Frankly, dear:

If you want it done right, write it yourself. Don't sit there and blast those less talented, less well-educated, less well-travelled, or simply less obsessed with accuracy than you. Fucking well DO something about it, or shut up.

...

Okay, I'm done, out of steam now.

Have a nice day, people ^_^

Y'know I'll be back later.