Rational Thinking Thing

I can report, dear reader, that my racist companion has enjoyed much success in the last month with her book DON’T BELIEVE THEM – ANYONE in which she expounds upon some of the various chips which have plagued her shoulder for the better part of a decade.  I’ve had no need to read the work myself for I’ve been treated to it nightly for over a year, have considered its merits and suffered its deepest offences, in pursuit of my baser needs as a man of the world.  She has since been given her own television show in which she discusses these issues with the like of mind as well as trying to persuade, via gentle debate, nearly-believers. 

Programming is not of the highest standard here in Pmurehia, I have found, I believe the majority of them are produced solely to enable the printing of TV Guides, reviews, gossip, and interviews with the stars – none of which are actually read by the public, I have come to discover.  It does not matter that they are never read.  All that is important is the buying and selling, with every Pmurehian playing their part in sustaining the ink-based economy.  I have been inside libraries, and bookstores, dear reader, in which books are being sold by the crate-load.  It appears the existence of a Babel-like structure on the outskirts of the city – in constant construction skywards – does not represent the nation’s celestial aspirations so much as it does their need for added shelf space.  A familiar sight in these biblio-buildings are social events where people take photographs of each other with the book they’ve released that week. I know all about such galas, for wasn’t I called upon to attend one myself last week.  It is no awful admission, reader, to let you know that since last we corresponded, I have myself published my long-gestating volume THE F AND THE S, a book which I never imagined would ever see the light of day.  The reviews have been excellent.  As you would expect.  No, not because of my own particular genius, but it would seem that negative reviews serve only to hinder sales in Pmurehia, so it is not within the country’s interest to permit them.  I have not encountered a single bad review since arriving here. My publisher has also released a reading guide for my book as part of its series of guides famous for their terse synopses tailor-made for those reviewers unused to comprehensive perusal.

I visited my racist companion yesterday to inform her of my upcoming departure having decided recently to continue my travels in Europe’s hinterlands.  She would not see me, unfortunately; my refusal to provide a blurb for the cover of DON’T BELIEVE THEM – ANYONE upon its publication had angered her.  She knew rightly it was because I did not share her disapproval of a great many minority groups and was not about to publicly endorse her views.  But over and above everything else, I had not read the book and did not intend to read it at any point going forward, so my own personal standards kept me from showing appreciation for a morsel I had not swallowed.  This rejection of Pmurehian ways not only rubbed my racist companion up the wrong way but led to action by my publisher who thought they might make some extra money while also slandering my reputation, and so reprinted an edition of my debut volume with a new cover and title.  S**T BOOK by S**T HEAD, or something, something marginally less witty than that.    (It was no surprise to discover a prevalence of negative advertising in Pmurehia, even with the general tendency to deliver optimistic write-ups more often than not - any excuse to ply ink, after all.)  Such publisher-client antagonism can cause irreparable damage to a new author’s reputation, particularly one not confined to the shelves of Pmurehia.  Luckily, I had published the work under one of my many many pseudonyms, dear reader, so have experienced no unwelcome repercussions subsequently.  Not even my racist companion is in the business of knowing my true name.  Identity is cardinal.  Keep it close. 

I cannot say I feel good about leaving Pmurehia with all of this on my mind.  I am sure my racist companion sees my egress and insufficient championship as a betrayal.  And no matter how indelicate she can be as an individual, some might even say unattractive when her genocidal leanings take over, I have grown fond of her on my travels, not only as an occasional romantic partner, but as a friend.  Why is it these rational thinking things are so positively unreasonable?  We shall leave it, dear readers, for the philosophers to work out; and if inclined to do so, one would be wise to check in advance where the great minds in question were published.