I write letters-to-the-editor in the Discovery Islander (local paper) once in awhile.  Done it for a few years.  I am pretty much locally tolerated in this harmless pursuit but never commented on.  Not in writing anyway.  That all changed last week.  David Jected wrote in unintelligible support, a mindless gibberish (kinda) on a political piece I had written the week before.  And he was published.

That fact alone is enough for me to reconsider this hobby.

David’s initial is ‘D’ and that ‘sounds’ like: Dejected, a nom de plume.  Seems my sole supporter is mad and incognito.  His letter went on and on and on and ranted, raved, spewed and spleened.  That has to tell me something not only about him and the publisher but worse, about me.  And I am not happy about this.  It is like being on Nixon’s list of desired people.  I could be a nut.  Me and Dejected are associated now and, despite my low standards for association, this guy is beyond the pale. 

Sal was in hysterics.  “He’s nuts!  His sentences don’t make sense!  This guy is bonkers and he is the only one who has ever supported you! Ha ha hah ha ha… hah………. mmmph …….giggle……ha ha ha………..the two Daves!!!”

I have always advocated speaking up.  It seemed like a good thing.  You know.  Honest.  Upfront.  I am beginning to have my doubts.  Right now it seems like it just attracts the loons.  Plus Sally’s ridicule.  If I am going to attract idiots, couldn’t they at least be young and female?

Where are the groupies?   

I may go back to painting.