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.
Ruminations, meditations, opinions and plain old cud chewing
