It occured to me...

...that some of you might not so graciously point out, that I just obviously have rubbish taste. No denying that said taste in literature swerves rather dangerously towards the dodgy, but I still demand that my sensibilites by protected by a minimum level of acceptable rubbish. I'll take ludicrous plots, unbelievable poetic license, abrupt endings, pendantic exhortations, hallucinatory rants, crude construction.... I'll take a lot, but not BAD writing! You have to draw a line somewhere, and I do believe it is the sole responsibility of those who publish to maintain that standard. Why in hell have those glossy magazines otherwise??? So stick that in your pipe and smoke it! (assuming they still let you smoke in that part of the world)