An O’Nest Letter

July 4, 2010

Sorry, no, you are not getting any this week. As long as the number of readers of this is not in balance with the numbers that have read that, we’re on strike. What we mean with ‘as long as’ is, precisely, ‘until next week’.

In the meantime, please find below my letter to Earnest:

Dearest Earnest,

We have a gimmick but we lack a purpose. Well, not so much a purpose as: ‘the perception of a purpose’. Something that can create a group feeling; something automatically creating an in-crowd for those of us that are on the internet mainly because they were always on the outside of the door trying to listen in. Only something like that makes people feel safe, and warm and fuzzy (even if they say they prefer cold and sharply delineated, they want warm and fuzzy). Only then the chances increase of people leaving comments, coming back to see whether their comments were commented & giving a tip to others to come and have a look at a terrific site (where they might stumble upon their sharp comments).

I fear, Earnest, that I’m showing “how not to”. So let me try the indirect approach and use an example:

Take soccer. It is a sport popular with girls, wimps and faggots. This is probably why I like it, neither being a faggot nor being a girl.

See what I mean, this is something that may attract the outsiders: outing ourselves as outsiders. After all, aren’t we all outsiders suffering the dominion of the happy few. What options do we have, then to be proud of our non-achievement? What culture, except that of underperforming with respect to the top performers?

I was thinking when I was half asleep in bed, trying to conform to the ritual of reading at least a good 10 pages in foreign languages, that it is a most cruel thing to read so carelessly something that somebody took great care to write just how it was written, word for word. As I was thinking that I was glossing over whole scores of sentences that seemed to have no point but to impress me with the great care and effort that went into writing them exactly the way I wasn’t about to read them.

I lost it again, Earnest. I am sorry. I guess there is no point in me trying to find a recurring theme that many others can spontaneously call their own. Maybe it’s better to hope for the discovery by publishers surfin’ the waves of the internet during his lonely week-ends. After all, it’s the publishers that make the noise that allow the few connoisseurs to find the needle in the haystack of filth that is carefully designed to be digested in great volumes by wormlike things in the habit of eating crap.

Again, sorry for scaring everybody away. The floor is yours.

Yours sincerely,

O’Nest

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