Blogging on my hands...

There is a wonderful website, despair.com, which specializes in de-motivational themes, including huge posters and desk calendars with hilarious--and true!--definitions that will discourage anyone except runners and people with a black sense of humor. I'm especially fond of this month's definition on my desk calendar: Blogging--Never before have so many people with so little to say said so much to so few. You gotta love it!

The point is that after today's session, which seemed so difficult in this heat (20' run, 3' rest, 10' run, 3' rest, 8' run, permission to collapse), my husband was reading the paper during breakfast when he came across the earth-shaking news that Sarah Palin's 20-year-old daughter had written a book about her "life". Folks, let's face it, at the half point of her life she was only ten years old. Apparently she has learned that the father of her child is an insect or lower than dirt, and how stupid it was of her to have sex with him after getting drunker than a sailor on shore leave. Fortunately, at my youthful age of 66, I don't need to learn that lesson because I was never that stupid to begin with, and I don't refer to Ms Palin's alcoholic missteps, but to her tendency to mate with someone she qualifies as an insect or lower than dirt. It has been my contention that anyone able to string a couple of words together, or anyone blessed with notoriety even if it be second hand, can get a book published (except me, of course, since I have fallen on deaf ears for years)in these days of drowning in communication whether you want it or not. It fascinates me how anyone with vital signs can publish his or her shallow thoughts, simplistic life view, or autobiography replete with proof positive (spoken by the victim in person) of an idiocy of epic proportions, while others (ahem!!) can't even get an agent. Now, it is quite possible that my mystery novel isn't riveting although it would make a great movie, but some have read it and liked it. Perhaps they are biased since they were my mother, my husband, and a close friend. My self-published book of humorous essays has been hugely enjoyed by any number of readers who weren't related to me and do not know me, so all is not lost.

Now, is that justice? No, it isn't, it's business. The publishing business, in fact, where the prime consideration is to have contacts in order to publish, or to have published in order to have contacts. All right, I've had my rant for the day. Time to shower and get a move on.