How to Insult Someone Who Writes for a Living
Those of you who know me well, know that I will eat just about anything. However, I’m not a very big fan of preserved foods, in particular the tinned variety, although there are of course always a few tiny exceptions to that rule.
You may have heard of Spam, probably one of the most famous brands of preserved meats, and with thanks to Google, “Spam is a brand of canned pre-cooked meat products made by Hormel Foods Corporation. It was first introduced in 1937 and gained popularity worldwide after its use during World War II.”
I’m not sure how high pre-cooked meat products rank in terms of nutritional value today, however war-time food supply, or lack thereof, was no joke, and there is a time and a place for everything.
Yesterday I had a spambot comment on my At least seven hours are necessary piece on the value of a one-on-one session with a midwife, within a group space. Really? I’m not sure of the correlation between seven hours of sleep and a visit to a midwife, apart from the fact that once that kid arrives, those seven hours are out the door… but thanks for the stealth visit.
Last week I was on the receiving end of a few Spambotian comments telling me that more people needed to be exposed to my website and blog, and if I included automated content creation in my diet, people would come swarming to see what I was serving up. Well, there’s Lesson 101 in How to Insult Someone Who Writes for a Living right there. Appreciate it, and thanks for taking the virtual time to break my heart!
For the record, I prefer to be on the receiving end of a well-prepared meal that’s been lovingly created, exquisitely flavoured, paired with a good wine, followed by a delicious dessert, maybe some sparkles to wash it down, and a good espresso to let it all settle.
I also prefer to be on the giving end of a well-thought out, comprehensive work of word craft and before starting the process, I like to know the dietary requirements, preferred ingredients, special flavouring and desired outcomes of my task.
I don’t believe in a ‘one-size-fits-all’ approach, whereas in Spambotia there are a gazillion off-the-shelf flavours to choose from… If you happen to be a trader, please don’t come knocking at my door trying to sell your cheap-and-nasties. Right now, our tummies are full and there’s nobody home.1