Ovoid Diaspora - a desparate dispersion of all that is proper and good

It seems the rueful day has arrived. 

The over-long anticipation of something so unremarkable as the sequel to a wholly unremarkable work of calumny and vituperation against the fair people of our fair town has been a tedious one. The tedium of the wait, needless to say,  was tempered by the relief afforded us by simply putting the predicted event out of one's mind; much as one does not dwell on the predicted explosion of  the sun a million years hence or the prognosticated impact of a meteor with our name on it.

However, that tedium - if one were to have actively and consciously awaited the publication of the tedious sequel to 'Ovoid, Illinois' - is as nothing when compared with the tedious, poorly written pot-boiling prose of 'Ovoid Diaspora'. Mr Rapier, the author (if one might be permitted so high-flown a designation for a wordmonger so devoid of literary talent) has quite obviously gained no further skill or craftsmanship as regards the sculpting and honing of narrative literature. Indeed, his scurrilous scribbling falls just short of cacography - evidently, the spell-checker if his word processor functions properly. (Thank Heaven for small favors!) 

As to the substance of the text, it is without pith or promise. To outline the multitude of tangled narrative threads is simple enough if one utilizes Alexander's method of unraveling the Gordian Knot - a quick slashing with a keen, sharp blade. To wit: the young students of Ovoid High School have flown from the homely domesticated nest to pursue the rapacious temptations of a wanton life of licentiousness and promiscuity to which that ilk of anarchists known in vulgar parlance as 'hippies' ascribe in their senseless, mindless rebellion against the God-ordained societal and moral restraints of a sane and prosperous civilization. 

Folderol,  poppycock, stuff and bother; 'Ovoid Diaspora' is, in sum, a wan pamphlet espousing the spurious creed of intemperance, debauchery, willful criminality and solipsistic self-service which will, like blind Samson in the temple, ultimately bring down the Shining City on the Hill and shatter the very foundation of our God-ordained American Way of Life.

Fore-warned is fore-armed; avoid this volume of virulent,  vituperative, opprobrious obloquy and impious propagandistic balderdash advocating Godless, lawless, licentious living.

Rest assured, Dear Reader, that, your editor, Aeneas Virgil Babbage, for one, shall never, ever read, scan nor skim this thin volume. One would as soon pluck the eyes from one's own head.

Sleeping Dogs

An old adage warns us to let sleeping dogs lie. Best to keep the beast quiet rather than arose it to raise alarm or do harm, goes the logic. Tossing caution to the wind, however, one is lead to disregard the old wives' wisdom and inquire about the possible publication of the second slim volume of scabrous calumny from Mr Rapier on the fictional residents of the fair and up-standing community of Ovoid, Illinois.

The public was apprised of the imminent release of the aforementioned slander entitled 'Ovoid Diaspora' and gritting one's teeth in preparation for further obloquy, defamation, derogation and cynical misrepresentation of our beloved and cherished home - the hallmark of Mr Rapier's previous attempt at authorship - one waits for the second boot to fall, as it were.  One must admit, a morbid curiosity has begun to seep into this editor's consciousness.

Perhaps the reading public and the peaceful town of Ovoid will be spared the perverse, delusional scribblings of Mr Rapier's acid pen.

One can hope.

An Ovoid Sequel? Say it ain't so!

 Say it ain't so.
Talk has begun to percolate like yesterday morning's coffee that there is a second volume of distorted mis-truths forthcoming about our beloved hamlet, Ovoid, Illinois. One shudders at the thought of more of the reputed author's turgid prose, left-field analogies and brittle and obtuse lexicon.

One must steel oneself in the modern technological age when the wholesale access to cyber-space provides the triumph of mediocrity. In prior times, publishing houses great and small were the only means (short of a mimeograph machine) by which one could present his writings to the world. Battalions of editors stood rank on rank to assure that something more than sophomoric drivel was published and distributed to the general public.

The good old days...

Presently, contrary-wise, we are inundated with dross; the chaff and stem and seed casings which were previously winnowed from the select harvest of written work by serious authors. We, the general public,consequently are subject to a flood of tripe; weak, hackney themes and specious, supercilious sentence-mongering  The classic narrative is moribund. Its corpse bloats, engorged with putrid prose.

One can be assured that the second volume of the 'Ovoid Saga' (which we are told is tumescently entitled 'Ovoid, Diaspora') is of a similar mish-mash muddle of colloquialism, high-blown directionless musings, over-stretched analogies, self-agrandizing monologs, recondite verbiage and shame-faced dis-information to that which we encountered in the first loathsome volume.

This writer looks forward to giving it a miss.

'Ovoid, Illinois': Anti-establishment Balderdash

Let us over-look, for the time being, the myriad inaccuracies of Ovoid life foisted upon an unsuspecting public by the author of 'Ovoid, Illinois'. Let us, instead, appraise the over-all tenor of the book.

One cannot but be struck by the thought that this is an immodestly inveiled inveiglement against authority and authority figures. It reeks of anti-establishmentarianism from the first word to the last.This flimsy narrative extolls anarchy and the dissolution of society time and again by relating incidents of revolution against civic, religious, educational and familial leaders. The dark anti-heroes of the story, Cheryl-Jean, Duncan, Daedelus, Mylo, Gene  and their cohorts all rebel unconscionably against their betters.

Cheryl-Jean defies her loving, doting parents; even defying the very laws of nature with self-delusion.
Duncan refutes the decision of the school administrators.
Daedelus challenges every aspect of modern life, even the most fundamental.
Mylo blasphemes against Jesus and the teachings of Christianity.
Gene plans on nothing less than a megalomaniac take-over of society at large.

As these characters rabble rouse and spout their ill-conceived personal pseudo-philosophies, the others populating this thin screed to social disorder, are swept up in emotionally charged rhetoric of unbridled, unrestrained self-determinism.

Taken as a whole, this is nothing less than invocation to anarchy. Community leaders are reviled at every step. Public institutions are condemned as archaic. Long-standing conventions of social order are flouted and brushed aside as worthless. Patriotism is denigrated. Adherence to social mores is disdained. Respect for private property is undermined. The very fabric of society is rent and sundered to suit the whims of adolescent egos.

Clearly, what comes disguised as a nostalgic tale of simpler, more innocent days gone by is, in truth, a manifesto of anarchy and social dissolution written between the lines of banal prose.

There ought to be a law.

Holiday Wishes with Exceptions

With the holidays upon us and the joyful concomitant duty of finding the perfect gift and then, not finding the means to pay for the perfect gift, settling for something less than perfect (never mind the wrapping - I leave that to professionals),  there has been little time and less mind-power to spare keeping up the counter-assault on the character of the good people of Ovoid.

The reveling gaiety and twinkling magic of the Ovoid Town Square and Pioneer Park, festooned in garland, wreaths and holly, populated with the whimsical, traditional characters of Christmas-time, one is induced to be more forgiving of transgressions. The rude woman dragging three squalling brats who cut ahead of us in line at the Piggly-Wiggly with far more than the maximum items for the express line is to be allowed her impropriety. The boorish, piggish little scrub of trailer-trash from over Olney way who roared his smoke-belching wreck into the last close parking space outside the Dry Goods after we had patiently waited for Mrs Tutwilliger to weigh anchor and un-berth her boat-like SUV might be forgiven his ill manners. The fact that we were given the wrong dinner order two evenings in a row at a local eatery because the waitress was too occupied with texting on her cellphone than to actually do her job properly might be pardoned her unprofessionalism.

'Tis the Season, after all.

The blackguardly character assassination of an entire community, a veritable genocide of communal pride and reputation, however, should not granted any such seasonal beneficence. We speak of the blighted writings within 'Ovoid, Illinois' and of the disgraceful perpetrator of slander and calumny, the author thereof.

It has been brought to my attention that the vile volume has acquired a second, superfluous subtitle; 'a Saga of Sorts'. Had I been consulted, I would have suggested 'a sordid saga out of sorts'.

With the holidays upon us, one holiday wish we would like to make is that 'Ovoid, Illinois' sink without a trace and, in so doing, save the sterling identity of our community.  A second wish and hope is that many would share this wish with us.

Happy Holidays!

Cheryl-jean on Pot!? NOT!

As the book, 'Ovoid, Illinois' opens, a delirium image is recounted by Cheryl-jean Billingham, the pseudonym for a well-known Ovoidian around whom this cynical, facetious tale is woven with such crude boorishness. The image is of a radiant autumnal Midwestern sunset as seen through the eyes of one who is drug-addled from the consumption of a marijuana cigarette or 'splint' as it is known in the argot of the criminal drug underworld.

This should immediately put off any upstanding and law-abiding reader to desist in reading further. No personal familiarity with the young woman to whom this allusion is purportedly being alluded is necessary for one with any common sense or decency to know that a young teenage girl during this period of time in small town on the south-east central plains of Illinois most certainly would not have been doing up pot. One familiar with the young woman to whom this allusion is purportedly being alluded would know in their heart of hearts that such a diligent and filially pious young girl would never have been so corrupted by a family member to succumb to the noxious, pernicious temptation of smoking the Devil's Weed. That the character partakes of a controlled substance with such nonchalance doubles-down on the despicable character assassination that continues throughout the entire length of the book.

At least, so I've been told by very reputable sources on whom I have relied for insights. I have thus far not been able to read through to the end of this ignoble attempt at fiction. As with a ripe, piquant cheese, one must hold one's nose to sample it. Unlike the diary-based delectable, there is no rich flavor which awaits. This book is, in a word, tasteless.

It's tastelessness includes the subsequent vile scene around the family dining table where Cheryl-jean disrespects her caring parents by reducing both the mother and father to fatuous stereo-typification and deceiving them about her intoxicated state. As editor of the Ovoid Elyssium Herald, I have known the two individuals who form the basis of these cardboard characterizations. They are true and upright citizens of Ovoid, righteous church-going people who serve the community in a variety of ways. Neither of them deserve such foul misrepresentation. To wit: to characterize the man upon whom 'Bud' Billingham is based as a petty finagler when the 'True Life' person was a tireless civic servant who had held the post of Mayor, County Commissioner and a host of other positions of merit and honor is beneath contempt.

In a phrase, that is precisely what this book and its author are: beneath contempt.

Beginning at the Beginning

As was promised in the first editorial of this serial attempt to debunk the falsehoods and misinformation put forth by the purported 'novel', 'Ovoid, Illinois', the editorial staff of the Ovoid Elyssium Herald, south-east- central Illinois' last remaining family-owned newspaper, has determined the best and most appropriate place to begin this project is at the beginning. As is logical, this determination of process will inevitably lead to the middle and then onward to the end.

By the time the end is reached, it is hoped that the wicked and banal calumny shall be o'erturned by the gleaning of the fact from the facetious fiction and thusly redeem the reputation of  the Ovoid community as a whole and with judicious use of truth cleanse and absolve the besmirched character of Ovoidian personages historic and contemporary much as the ancient Apelles was redeemed by the revelation of a friend who cited the slander as odious thus saving the noble Apelles from Ptolomy's lethal condemnation.

Such a friend to the citizens of Ovoid are the staff of the Elyssium Herald.

It has further been determined by the editorial staff that this series will not critique the ignoble scribblings as literature as they most assuredly are not and should not be accredited with such a high-flown and undeserved designation.

Furthermore, as the 'devil is in the details' it has been determined that at the risk of being decried as petty, niggling and obsessed with piddling trivialities, the small errors of this slanderous, erroneous narration shall be pointed out at every opportunity of which there are a plethora given the slap-dashed, slipshod, higgledy-piggledy mishmash that the author has tried to foist upon the reading public.

Having more clearly and thoughtfully stated the intentions of our staff vis-a-vis the published opprobrium regretfully entitled 'Ovoid, Illinois', the series will tackle the text of the aforementioned work of slander and, beginning at the beginning will bring to an end this offensive affront to Ovoid residents past and present.

A. Babbage II
editor