Stephen King is proof the modern day writer can pawn his words for lucre and seemingly craft compelling stories repeatedly… and again… and again. Honestly, the pomposity of anyone to decry a certain writers work over another is like a mental midget arguing with himself over how long is the length of a piece of string.

I believe we can and should praise writing when it captivates and moves the reader… We should recommend or, in the advent that we are not affected, pan the work itself… not so much the writer.

Stephen King, Rawlings, and heaven help us, Stephanie Myers, are uber successful. Not Shakespeare by any means, but they are blessed to be earning so much as a meal through putting one word after another onto a blank page. They may or may not be my cup of tea, but to decry modern craftsman as invalid practitioners whose work will never measure up as quote, mutherfucking unquote “literature” is just the type of discourse people without creativity or the ability to see beauty in the most mundane of situations would promote.

I’m fully betting these people, who take the time to tell others what real writers THEY prefer, and how their taste is that much more refined than mine WILL EVER or COULD EVER be… make shitty friends, terrible lovers, and even worse, relatives.

To anyone who decries an artists work — at the expense of a paying fan who truly appreciates the product — we all know you secretly like to stick strange objects up your butt.

And for the working man and woman who dares to open a book seeking escapism or the food of the gods… or he/she who writes strange scribblings on bathroom walls or random corners of the far reaching internet: you are not alone. We read you. Because unlike our naysaying pretentious cocksucking associates who are want to describe other writers as having small and unremarkable genitalia — WE KNOW it is you, writer of such trivial to universal musings — who is the god of cock. Your swagger and coolness is left behind eternally. And for filling those pages and those empty spaces, we salute you.

Your writing reads like you’re nothing but a fucking pretentious git, as you swill wine and pose, name dropping Rilke and the like. Oh, but I was quoting Baudelaire. Give me a fucking break. Where’s the cheese and crackers to go along with this bullshit COCKtail party you’ve thrown to waft about your pomposity. Now take take said cracker and shove it in your ego inflated mouth, you (and now for some slangauge from the modern lexicon) tool.

You seldom get laid, yap your jaw without merit, and choose to study the works of others, because you either lack the talent to create or you’re too fucking lazy — READ — busy talking about the masters…

Get thee to a museum, and curate muthaphuka, you flippin’ pansy. And yes, sarcasm is the gift from the gods so we mere mortal working class humans (unlike yourself) don’t literally — and no, I don’t mean figuratively — rip someone’s head off.

And yes we use the internet to vent our so called molestation anxieties, and in hip gangster vernacular — talk shit.

Art is vital like air and water to the success of a community, nation, earth, etc. and additionally, you do have the right to your opinion, but obviously, as eloquent as you’ve stated your previous points of view — its a load of crap, and no one’s buying.

In other words, to you and your snobbery, if your previous posting is what you pass off as intellectual discourse, I say take your fucking cognac and Bugger Off!

Don’t make me de-pants you in our lil’ cyber room here, and show everyone why they called you shrink-dink all throughout grade school.

Oh, yeah… Also heard you liked to swallow. Gross, (modern slangauge alert, again) Dude.

Never let it be said that I never “gave back” to the genre. Here are ten tips for fledgling horror writers who want to see their work go far and be appreciated:

I came to the comment box to have an open discussion on the matter, because I thought it would be better than just putting each other down with words. Because I thought there had to be something other in your minds than just stupidity.

It is not my fault that someone molested you as a child… Or that you are an angry prick that attacks to defend himself from whatever imaginary danger is out there, somewhere.

Nevertheless, I’d like to think of you as someone who actually has some intellect, beyond all that shit that he speaks. See, I too, would like you to enlighten me.

Borges, by the way, did have a seriously large dick. So had Cortázar, and Rilke and some others such as Baudelaire, Verlaine, Poe… And so… And so. Either way, there’s still no way to tell what those authors thought when they were writing, what was their opinion on the “art” matter. Just misconceptions, mistranslations and assumptions.

There’s more to life than putting naive people down with words? What would that be? Putting them down with bats? I like the way you think, please enlighten me! I’m FASCINATED with your opinion on how to live life and what being a broad-minded person such as yourself encompasses!

(Also, you might want to answer the criticism somehow, seeing that you were the one full of profound insight about the arts- but that’s entirely up to you and how much you are prepared to have your opinions pissed on, Enlightened One)

There’s more to life than just putting doing people with words, not considering what they have to say, and disrespecting them…

Every one has the right to speak their minds, even if by doing so they confirm that they are incredibly narrow minded.

Learn to read beneath the lines.

What about Wilde, you mean “all art is useless”? Is that what you’re referring to? There’s not a shred of doubt in my mind that you’re a freshman. Only first-year students aren’t embarrased about telling people what they study, only first-year students quote (and agree with) Wilde, and only first-year students are proponents of naive subjectivism.

Waiting… ^^