My GOD, look what she's doing to that poor bird.

Moving this conversation from the comments section because it deserves its own damn post. And then? I'm done with this issue. Two days of writing time and 6K words lost to this nonsense. I'm not a happy camper, and have no one to blame but myself.

First, the inimitable Ferfe:

"*vbg* At this point I'll take a decent rant from either of you but I'm not sure I can make it that long between "rant fixes" so Selah needs to schedule something in alternating months. I would rant myself but ...well ... my pilot light must have gone out or something. If I were going to rant, though, it would probably be about how annoying manufactured dramas in the blog-o-sphere are, and how one or two people saying something cranky in a private email is not worthy of 400 comments about a fucking swan hat. Or ... how everytime someone blindly agrees with Nora Roberts or apologizes profusely for "kind of" disagreeing with her, promising to buy more of her books in penance, I feel IQ points being sucked out of my head in much the same way a bot fly gets tweezed from it's nest under human skin while still in the maggot stage.

It's my own fault, of course. If I spent more time writing and less time reading the blogs ... sigh ... It's just ... They're like the four horsemen or something and we are missing the obvious end of days right there in front of us on our computer screens. But for a single, worldwide EMP event, we could have evolved. Now? All we can do is hope the great firewall of China will spread across the Web and save us from madness. ;-)

But you guys can rant on anything and I'd be happy."

My reply:

"Ferfe-o'-my-heart, I'm sorry. My Ranty McRantypants hat is in the shop this week, and I used up all the juice in the spare over at YOUR blog.

The sad thing is, I don't doubt Nora would agree with you. She seems a level-headed sort, and likely wouldn't mind someone saying, "Respectfully, I think you're fulla shit on this particular point," without then feeling the need to apologize. Only nicer, of course, and without the vulgar language.

The more I read on this particular issue, the more I really think it's never been about the costumes at all. I'm not absolutely certain what it IS about, you understand. But one Dead Poultry Chapeau and a couple of grown women in thigh-highs simply do not make for this much drama all by themselves.

And if it really IS about the costumes and whether or not we should wear them at certain events and what that will do to the level of respect we engender as professionals? Then truly, as a group we don't deserve to garner the level of professional respect we desire, simply because we want it so badly we're willing to savage our own to get it. Poor Marianne, Liz and Sherri. Sacrificed on the altar of Won't You Pleeeeeeeease Respect Us?

And as I said before -- on your blog, I believe -- I just don't care that much what total strangers think of me. And I still don't know if that makes my self-esteem too low or too high.

But I will say that I'm very tempted to show up at the RWA signing some year -- not as a member, you understand, just as a reader and rabble-rouser -- RIDING a swan and wearing thigh highs on every part of my body but the naughty bits. And won't everybody be sorry THEN.

Mostly the swan."

SelahMarch.com - Romance of Dubious Virtue