The Day the Column Died
Editor's note: This post is actually written by me, Mr. Writing Person's copy editor.
I have some very bad news.
When I came home Friday night, I found Mr. Writing Person, his stepmother and stepsister, and a few representatives from the local mental health center in our living room. I heard them before I opened the door--apparently, I had arrived just when things had started to get interesting. His Imperiousness Mr. Person was being restrained, while his stepmother was shouting at him, calling him a perverted sicko, and his stepsister was screaming something about her gerbil.
It all went downhill from there. Yes, I tried to stick up for him. Who wouldn't? He pays almost all of my rent. To make a long story short, he's been taken away. That's right: Mr. Writing Person's family staged an intervention and had him hauled off to the loony bin.
It's not fair, really. No, he's not all there, and he's not exactly right in the head, but he's completely harmless. He can be a little unsettling sometimes, like the time I woke up at 3am to find him sitting in a chair next to my bed, pointing a sausage at my chest. Or when I came home to find the kitchen torn apart, and the words "keneths' freekwunsy is 90.3" scrawled in ketchup on the refrigerator. And he does donate to the Libertarian party. But really, he's never given the slightest indication that he'd cause bodily harm to himself or anyone else.
His stepsister has got to accept some of the blame. What kind of imbecile leaves a gerbil out where anyone could just yank it from its cage, strangle it, and make a sandwich out of it?
Anyhow, yesterday I received a letter from the Illustrious Mr. Person. I think it would be appropriate to post it here (edited for grammar and spelling, of course):
Dearest Copy Editor,
I hope this letter finds you intact. Those who defend genius are in as much danger as the geniuses themselves.
We who are endowed with irrepressible intelligence and revolutionary ideas have always been persecuted by the established media. Even the great Genghis Khan was hounded by the newspapers of the day and finally imprisoned for his groundbreaking though unconventional poetry.
I know not when I shall find freedom again. Until then, please take care of my dear Philistines. I doubt I'll be able to write to them myself, as they search and censor all of my mail.
Mr. Writing Person
So there you have it. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to take care of you all, dear Philistines, because Mr. Writing Person has some incredibly large shoes to fill. I'll probably make one more post, to index his most enlightening advice in order.
So here's to you, Mr. Writing Person. The literary world has suffered a great loss. Wherever you are in that fortress, I hope they've got plenty of quills and good broccoli.