Friday, August 10, 2012

A Blast From the Past

                   The following concerns an incident, or non incident that happened three years ago. I was down on my luck and appealed to a small town publisher to help me out. It reminds me that Twain made a fortune writing about Hannibal Missouri, but when he could finally live where he wanted he choose Hartford Connecticut.
                Draw what conclusions you may.   It may be worth noting that upon graduation from University I became employed writing white papers as a policy wonk,  and since then my employablity seems to have fallen steadily year by year even as I have more and more to say.  
               They ought to call what I've got Hazlett's disease.  He was a prolific British writer who had the misfortune to live during the industrial revolution  when, as now, truth was a commodity in scarce supply, and when it did appear was hammered over the head  until it was good and dead, there in the street..

Ergo



                   The following was written in the winter of 2009. I'm sending it along because the passing years, as they often do, have added a sheen, (technically the word is  a "glamour" although nowadays it is rarely used as a noun.)

                   This veneer accrues   from the fact that rarely have letter writer and recipient hated each other more then I and my putative recipient.Actually I can't speak for the other guy, but I'm will to testify I have more then enough hatred for two.

                We are like two men vying for the same woman, caring not as to the actual merits of the lovers but rather only that they be the one to win, to conquer and ultimately. to survive.
                It was nothing personal, just business, we had ended up on two sides of the great divide; I, an honest but poor victim of the treacherous banking system and he, a scum sucking lackey of the disgustingly wealthy

              What had happened is I had been caught in the logjam of the great credit crunch of 2008.   After thirty years of paying my bills, I had had a large amount of credit which, month by month was reduced to nothing - through no fault of my own!

                So, by this time I was staying in a hotel in West Hampton on a weekly basis and trying to think of someway out of the dillemma. There is a small, local Paper which caters mostly to the summer community and has been around for ages. It’s called “Dan's Paper”. It survives by a large amount of advertising for the upper class and provides a forum for "Dan" and some socially active ladies and gentlemen to express themselves. Apparently there’s a Dan junior waiting in the wings as well.  You know these WASP’s – they breed like rats.
            
              I swallowed my pride and would have been grateful for being paid enough to buy a decent meal. Realistically it would have meant exposure, but no dice.  Instead what I got was no reply.  This is also sometimes a form of compliment. It means that the recipient is going to steal the ideas and doesn't want to acknowledge he's even heard of them.  I am more familiar with the technique then I care to be.

           And so, that's what happened. Dan digressed from his ordinary  drivel and suddenly was writing about Fairy tale characters.  This was the sort of thing I expected from the New Yorker, that bastion of privileged, emotionally dead bastards, but from a two bit vacation handout with pretensions of glory?

         Oi Yeh, what was the world coming to?

        And suffieth to say I imagine the other party in this contretemps did not think twice. He, or she, went about their way thinking all was fine in the world.

         Unfortunately for my part age has *not* mellowed me. If anything, quite the contrary it has enforced the belief that if you do not  nail the bastards to the cross they will continue their wicked and heartless ways  until that time as  the almighty God calls them home to be judged before the heavenly throne.

      Besides which it was Sam Clemens, no stranger to differences of opinion himself, who suggested that at such times it was best not to sit and stew in one's own juices, but rather to get a little of one's self respect back. This I attempted to do.  I’ve seen what happens to the meek.  I’d rather go down with my boots on.

    Once you lose respect for a man it’s a lot easier to shoot him.

            The following then is in two sections. The first is a response to a letter that was never sent - the letter being that staple of the beginning writers life  - the rejection slip.  This, for the over educated among us, is what is known as Sarcasm.

             In other words I am being sarcastic. I don't actually mean to humble myself  before the idiot judgement of "Mr Dan" - quite the contrary. I am making fun both of his (or her) stupidity  and even more so I am expressing disgust that  for a person who's average reader has a million dollar plus home MR Dan can't spare a few dollars and a word of encouragement. This surely is the greater and unforgivable crime.

             Fortunately I can forgive. I don't linger on perceived slights but must get on with my life, after removing a few vital organs  which they plainly  do not need.

             Then, after sarcastically thanking the miserly editor I offer him  a gift in appreciation. I give him a generic article, a template. This can be used year after year, modified only by changing the names.   All one has to do is send out a cub, who will ask a few questions and you're right as rain.   No fuss - no muss.

        Since this is the Hamptons however, and not Beverly Hills, I also include a speech by an up and coming right winger.  He defends freedom and low taxes and the usual stuff. What is more he's a new breed, people friendly compassionate conservative. He's black. He's a Moslem. He's married to a Jew. He worked his way through law school. He's overcome several diseases by prayer and dedication. He came to the light late in life.
        He used to be a dope dealer, murderer, gang boss and thief, but now, after being taken under the wing of a kindly elderly wealthy man he's found his true calling. He's a Republican.

             Don't you wish you were him? I know I do.


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Letter in Response to Rejection
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   Dear  (Insert)

           Thank you very much for your letter stating the reasons why you felt my recent submission to your firm was inappropriate. I understand completely.   I would certainly never wish to do anything that would jeopardize your survival or the survival of the firms you depend upon for advertising.  That in todays hypercompetative and always innovative business environment it would be considered self evident that banks would retaliate against those they feel act  contrary to their interests should have occurred,  at the very least, to me of all people, who has felt their wrath in it's merciless full fury.

    Even now, as the tears well up in my eyes,  I cannot thank you enough for sparing me the shame and humiliation of seeing my dark words and thoughts, borne of despair and desperation which, should they have been made pubic, would have caused me the deepest regret for the rest of my life. For now, time, which heals all wounds, has opened my eyes to my near fall from grace, that you, in your wisdom, have prevented.

        
         I am also grateful for your kind words of encouragement.  "Can't use it,  but keep at it. Rome wasn't built in a day and nothing beats a try but a fail, so if you persevere something good is bound to happen."  (Added later : Note the sparking originality of thought and phrase)

     That said I am taking the liberty of sending along a short piece that I have used successfully on many occasions. The core of the article was part of the curriculum of the Greater Daytona Correspondence School for profitable book writers, although no more then fifty percent, so  I believe I can call it, basically original.

      Please accept it as a gift.  It can be used year after year (but not *too* often) and will bring you praise both as a public benefactor and as a wise publisher who understands that there is nothing a reader likes so much as to see their names in print.

Generic  Small Town Newspaper Article


         "How much is a Smile worth?"

          The ladies of  (insert locale here) have got to be among the most caring on earth. Proof positive of this was shown at the recent  charity fashion show for   (the mentally retarded, victims of earthquake/flood, etc.)    Ms. (insert name here) and her gang of recruits including (insert names here) went all out recently in working almost non stop for months on the recent fashion show at the luxurious home of  (insert name.)
               It was a smashing success and raised well over a thousand dollars for the victims of (insert cause here.) In addition many of the local shops chipped in with very generous donations of goods .  (Insert name here) said she got the idea when a certain local shop donated over a thousand pairs of  ladies high heels to the earthquake victims of Haiti.
           The catering was exquisite, as it had to be having been donated by (insert name here). There were frappes, canapé's and crepes of all assortments  provided by  (insert name here) who let it be known that his portable  "Crepe-mobile"  is available for all events, even small parties from May first to Labor day.
           There's nothing like a strawberry crepe, with lo-cal dairy whip, and a few Mimosa's to wash it down to provide a fun, delicious, and healthful afternoon meal.
         The tent was hardly needed, nor were the chairs  since it was a beautiful day and  nearly everyone was standing.
         Entertainment was by the Sal LaScala Combo, who thrilled our ears by  playing a mixture of standards, disco and even the occasional cha cha. Ole!

              The high point of the after noon was when little Bobby appeared. Dressed casually, but neatly in new blue jeans, sneakers and a tee shirt donated by (insert name here)    Bobby provided a great example of how lives can be turned around if we only care enough to help.  

        From his rough origins on the streets of San Paolo in Brazil life's opportunities looked dim at the outset. He was working for the local drug gangs before he was ten years old. Convicted of multiple  murders at twelve   he met a priest who changed his life.
       Now he's been accepted with a full scholarship to the prestigious Choate Academy and states his ambition is to be a US senator from the state of Rhode Island - on the  republican ticket.
    
       He gave a moving speech on the privatization of social security, the need for a flat tax system and what the constitution means to him, all of which were well received.  Later on his agent told me he also does, for selected audiences, a moving rendition of scenes from  "Oliver Twist" by the celebrated english author, Charles Dickens. He is available for appearances until October, when he will be leaving for a european tour.

          At five o'clock Ms (insert name here) took the stage again to thank everyone for coming and to remind all attendees that purchases of clothing at the event were tax deductible so she hoped everyone would be generous.  She also thanked all the ladies and local businesses that did so much to make the affair such a success
and reminded us all that a gift to the needy was as much a gift to ourselves as anyone else because it was a gift of love.

 
         But it was little Bobby who said it best  with a poem he had written for the occasion.


                    "Before you you see someone who is poor
                      Not a wealthy person or an entrepreneur
                      Still I have all the riches on Earth
                     For how much is a smile worth?"



  Your dedicated correspondent
 (insert name here)





         


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