When Your Dealer Is A Critic

It seems that I was not entirely correct when I said that Joel, of North Carolina fame, was trying his hand as literary critic. He has become a critic at large. Not being one to do things the easy way, he is not focussing just on literature. If it needs or doesn't need criticizing, he's on it.

The latest criticism deals with how I write my posts---the mechanics of it. I volunteered the fact that I don't write in a word program and then paste it here. I just type it in Blogger's post create thing. The original one, not the one with added bells and whistles. I only switch to that if I want to use big red letters or something like that.

I do tend to hit publish before doing much proofreading, then I read it and usually notice that I used the wrong form of there/their/they're, left off the y in they, or forgot to put a subject and verb in a sentence, e.g. "...and a big...". Often I rush to edit as soon as I see the first thing, skim a few more lines while on the edit page, then publish again.

It probably makes it look like I published the same thing five times if I check the archive list, which I haven't done in recent memory. My bad.

I like to write in this box and don't know why. It feels better than a big blank page and so that is what I do. No excuse, no shame, no regret, no problem. Except to critics at large.

No, the critic at large insists it makes no sense and just isn't the right way to do things. The feel of the critical assault is that because I do things this way, I am no good and probably should be shot.

Why do you put up with it? Why not have him banned for life from the internet and other places?
Very good questions. But there is just one very significant catch; he's the pusher man--my dealer.

Only Joel knows where to get Richard's Delicious Seasoning (that's the name of it whether you think it delicious or no). The stuff is really good on my favorite sandwiches; spinach, tomatoes, cheddar cheese, mayo, mustard, and the vegetarian pictures of bacon they sell, on whole wheat or rye toast. Melt the cheese on one of the pieces before assembling the sandwich.. I like the Morningstar Farms pictures of bacon. Of no relevance but I do not like that textured protein stuff at all. That is the crumby stuff that is supposed to be like hamburger or something. People cook with it instead of ground beef, I think. Not for me.

It's good on home fries too. But really good on the sandwich. I'm hooked, and my only connection to the stuff is Joel, critic at large. See the problem? I have to pretend to agree, or to do things his way. I can't take legal action or hire someone to play rap music under his window. Aside from the cost, if I tried to silence the critic, he'd cut off any possibility of hooking up an O Z, or a kilo of the magic powder.

So, let's pretend this was written on my computer in a word processing program, then neatly pasted into the blogger new-post box. It is a delicate and important issue. There will come a time when I run out, and I do not look forward to the withdrawal symptoms when there is no Richard's Delicious seasoning in the cupboard.

Richard must have been pretty confident that people would find this mix delicious to name it that. Maybe he's arrogant, or maybe his wife or someone close to him tried it and said, "Hey Richard! This seasoning is delicious! You should go up to that little store in Brown's Summit and see if they'll let you sell it there."

Richard then procrastinates because he doesn't know what to call it. He thinks about calling it My Mix of Hen's Teeth, Oyster Poop, and Blood Pudding, but then everyone would know the secret ingredients. Richard can mix spices, but thinking a thing like this through may have been too much.

Then the other person--wife or friend or relative or trusted pastor--comes over and asks if he's talked to the store yet. Months have passed.

Richard cannot tell a lie. Naming his seasoning is bad enough, he doesn't need the mind twist keeping up with a lie would bring, so he admits that he hasn't done anything toward marketing this addictive substance.

The clever friend or wife, etc. decides to take the bull by the horns. She/he puts some of it in a mason jar and strolls into the store demanding to see whoever it is that decides what goes on the shelves. This involves maneuvering around a large cardboard cutout of a NASCAR driver hawking beer.

She--I've decided it was a wife or girlfriend or sister. She has cooked up some kind of beast, maybe a piece of fish, and seasoned it with the secret mixture. The store owner is hooked. "This is some deeelicious seasoning!"

They make a deal, and since the sample she left was hastily labeled, Richard's delicious seasoning, they went ahead and put that name on the printed labels. No one knew if it would be liked universally. You never can be sure of what will sell in cases like this.

Before you know it, Richard's seasoning is famous and people in California are writing about it on the internet, breaking into a cold sweat just thinking of the day when they'll run out and not be able to get more. Unless the critics can be appeased.

See what happens? It may seem strange to hide out and go incommunicado, but just look at the complications which arise when you decide to revive old friendships and stay in contact. Your best friends can turn out to be critics and send you into withdrawal because they are your only source for Richard's Delicious Seasoning.

Howling Wolf will solve some of the problem, but on the crazy vegetarian sandwich you'll be craving Richard's. Your life could be ruined, all because your old friend turned out to be a vicious critic, and you are no longer in the driver's seat. If you don't take the beating, you're doomed.

And you thought my life was easy, and that you have problems? I guess hearing about my complicated dilemma has brought you to your senses and you are at page two of your gratitude list as we speak.