I was about halfway through GONZO, The Life of Hunter S. Thompson by Jann Wenner and Corey Seymour when I came across the following quote. At the time, I guess Rolling Stone magazine was being inundated with submissions from would be writers and aspiring poets all of whom felt the inner need to express themselves in verse. Doctor Thompson thought it would be in his best interests to fend off his imitators and admirers by sending them the following pre-penned rejection letter…
You worthless, acid-sucking piece of illiterate shit! Don't EVER send this kind of brain-damaged swill in here again. If I had the time, I'd come out there and drive a fucking wooden stake into your forehead. Why don't you get a job, germ? Maybe delivering advertising handouts door to door, or taking tickets for a wax museum. You drab cocksuckers are all the same; like those dope-addled dingbats at the Rolling Stone office. I'd like to kill those bastards for sending me your piece ... and I'd just as soon kill you, too. Jam this morbid drivel up your ass, where your readership will better appreciate it.
Yail Bloor III
Minister of Belles-lettre
PS Keep up the good work. Have a nice day!
Talk about feedback!
So, I guess the moral of the story is that the next time you feel the need to bitch and moan about the editors here at E2 or why your shit is getting a tidal wave of down votes, take a moment to relax. Go for a walk, do some fuckin’ yoga or deep breathing exercises or whatever else you need to do to calm your ass down.
After all, it’s only words…