In my experience, as any given community, be it in the context of a nation or only a limited, select coalition of individuals ostensibly oriented toward a specific purpose, becomes uniformly galvanized towards an obscenely misguided and heinously-biased objective, it begins to drag down the collective mentality of the organization as a whole. Fiction Press, regrettably, is no exception, plummeting into the abyssal depths of a horribly uninteresting morass of intellectual, political, and literary bankruptcy. Be it in the form of the censorship exercised by the management, the morons that blithely troll every area of the site and strive to deride- in a deliberate contravention of the founding precepts of the community- as an act of war against anything with which they do not agree; not to mention the complete deficiency of a majority of the writers, it's obvious that Fiction Press is not winning the war against the world's overall stupidity.

For the few that buck this, leave while you can.

For the many that embody this, fuck you. In fact, for the confederation of dunces, as Jonathan Swift has dubbed that mentality, superfuck you. I hope that the vultures and scavengers pick your bones clean, and don't bother probing your skulls, since there's obviously nothing there. Go to hell, since I know you Christian right-wingers believe so strongly in it; and for the pretentious, pseudo-intellectual imbeciles that falsely claim to be atheists- atheism being tenet of the educated-, I hope that you don't pollute my plane of the ether, if that's the case, or at least aren't buried anywhere near to my corpse when that time arrives.

Finally, for the record, if anyone has a desire to read my works, E-mail me with a remotely intelligent and compelling letter, and I'll send the requested materials with an attached copyright notice.