Insipid Bounty

Americana dream a step away from flesh-candy shocked me from sleep: naked: shivering touch of mortal: sensitive to the slightest things: unable to bear even routine decay: no longer firm nor young nor fit to profit from exchange.

 
The bah-sheep shorn again — fleeced multitudes a burden like meat on my skull: fate-trails spiraling my core: runnels and labyrinths of indigestion. Heaviness of chest and gut: stabbing pain (doom-coronary? gas-bloat? ). I’m usually too numb to fear: but we face nasty scenes. Horrifying.

 
All news all the time all bad. Apocalypse not now it’s never now: Apocalypse impending. Everywhere-always. Forever-days merge decades-years.

 

Data-bloat of Name-Date throbbing worse-to-come. So sudden the leap from Then to Now: bad to worse: another step closer to The Reckoning.

 
Bulk of life-energy burned fighting Insane. Inevitable? Madness I mean: not doom — a given at this point one would think. Wouldn’t one? Insipid bounty. Supply of want-some annually exceeds demand for ever-more. New line of want-more available by Christmas in a variety of styles shapes colors: one size fits all. As if: even if we knew what we wanted we’d get enough of it to shut us up.

 

“You — my friend — are a cell in the toe of a dying monster.”

 
Well we need some damned thing. Impetus: a motion-toward. Money incites extreme: then crash: the come-down-down. Inevitable hangover-blues-depression can last years. Or never hit bottom: notorious black hole of fallen empires:vanished cultures: cloven tribes.

 

Celebrities live to please: hence: they are never pleased. They read the papers: the obituaries: know the names: or knew them Yesterday when everyone was famous. After obligatory obsequies in stiff journalese one demands “What have you done for us lately?” Dishing subtle dirt. Cheap talk. Black-and-white columns of Regardless in stark relief against particular: facades of Possible.

 
Newspapers don’t kindle forest fires: news-makers do. Read between the lies. Everywhere-always. Coming to a lap-top near you.

 

Zealous Partners joined forever to the Nation — in limited liability — experiment with Futures. No-money-back: guaranteed.

 

It doesn’t matter here-now this particular forever-day. They (you know: Them) don’t care what you eat or if. So long as you believe in continental drift of Empire see to binding see: or profess such belief with vim-vigor enough to exact proud-grudge satisfaction.

 

Not easy as it looks to break the will of a people — however straight-jacketed and bound. Even upon receipt of custom-crucified cadaver (bullets sign-notarized by Authorized Personnel) the lucky winner demands more splash-effect: gut photographs of inside-out.

 

CAMERA PAN TO:

 

 
Dead eyes dead. Glossy glazed-donut dead: tender as the kid-gloves stuffed into your name: stamped “Penance.” Fool. Everybody knows damned well humor jokes wit rage impotence at: comic proxy cannon-shots at: situations you’ll return to weekly — twenty minutes plus commercials till you’re permitted to spend what remains of the night alone and stoned. Not your humor. Not your rage. What you really wanna do is go out and clobber someone-anyone in any way responsible for All This.

 

 

Way back in flower season: before the brothel: before diaper-rash from clammy sheets: the plaster-Paris Thinker — a site-marker for travelers — was removed from his customary
position in the road. Seemed he had always been there: now he is gone.

 
This ongoing pursuit of adolescent night-thrills is a mistake. A huge mistake: hard to erase: it lingers: everywhere-always: like a dance tune played in all the clubs. Few notice it’s there: fewer notice when it’s gone. Recall way back a convalescent scene of clammy sheets stained blood: the stiff on the gurney was you.

 
Night lingered. Some kind of…must be this huge mistake everywhere always like a popular tune.

 
Go ahead: pull my finger.

 

See? Even a fart draws nothing but blank stares.

 

Something’s lacking: something essential: forgotten: hence difficult perhaps impossible to find much less renew. Doctors goofing in surgery talk travel plans. Long vacations earned rummaging your innards for evidence: proof the operation was urgent and did indeed make sense and thousands of dollars all around how ’bout a cigar?

 

Celebration of you: for you: over you: honoring you: despite you — may thy name and all it stood for — if anything — rest in penury and peace.

Music Loud Sing Dance To

History, its histories of full great good perpetuations, offers countless options to exist.

But History is hard upon its millions, billions, particularly, ones; hence, Hiroshima dropped on Tokyo — or similar threats to blow convention, such as it serves, to particles of soot and ash.

Anyway, The Revolution — in music, it was, I’m certain; maybe film as well, but I’m not sure — changed everything, as it relates to song and dance.

The Republic, while still forbidden to poets, who hypnotize tired old men in coffee shops stooped unsuspecting over news — is there no place for venerable codgers to read clear, muscular prose in peace? — allows quiet universities to teach Beatle Holiday Hendrix Blues and Armstrong, though such pedagogies can and do inspire undergraduates to sing loud, louder than bombs, louder, if it can be imagined, than Sousa drones of politic discourse.

Public records indicate that records are demanded by the public, as such media exist in modern digital formations. Sounds disseminated via free radio create opportunities, increase desire for possession, in so far as such abstractions can be possessed — in fairness, the ability to summon sounds at will, pause, rewind, replay them, provided the proper hard and soft ware are available, does indicate some manner of possession.

Business advertising business can therefore be approved and amplified through whatever siren songs appeal to  consumers of this uncertain market.

The energy required to induce arousal in these consumers is low, relative to music fads and formulas known to their forbears. Nevertheless, when talented musicians play, when talented musicians can be found to play, said consumers are apt to dance from late evening to dawn.

Such talent must be harnessed and fashioned into the kinds of sounds the public wants to hear. Taste is unpredictable at best, familiarity with histories of past successes — and failures — virtually meaningless.

“Beat heart be hard,” appears to be a general demand.  “Music loud sing-dance to,” is another.

Who can tell?   The revolution is young, still a-blush with morning’s glow.

History its histories.  Great good options exist millions, billions, ones. Hiroshima dropped on Tokyo. Convention blown to ash.

Dear Ruling Elite

Dear Ruling Elite, Enablers and Trustees,

I am Nobody. If that. Perhaps Nobody in particular — just another not very “productive” member of the other 99-percent. Nevertheless, that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate your astonishing feat of transforming this once racist, imperialist Repoblip or Demogocracy or whatever it was into the Greatest Liberator of Human Souls the world has ever known.

True, Stalin had his day, and the Nazis racked up some pretty impressive numbers during their brief reign, but no one has come near the efficiency and technological mastery of liberating human souls like the Good Old US of A has been doing with minimal loss of domestic human units since 1945. Also, the stats racked up by Stalin and Hitler were not accrued without cost in efficiency, time management and considerable expenditure of domestic human unit work hours per liberated human unit both at home and abroad.

From that first beacon of Hiroshimic light to the present mass bombings and drone attacks, America has become the Great Liberator of its time, perhaps of all time, of human souls. Why we (I hope I don’t offend with the term “we,” since us 99-percenters identify with the leviathan you’ve created and like to share, if only vicariously, like football fans, in its glory) we have liberated millions across the globe, dominating the market share like no Empire has done before, and with seven billion human units crowding the planet, the possibilities of further advances seem endless.

Whether by nukes, napalm, aerial assault, assassination, imprisonment, economic sanction, embargo, debt imposition, or plain old waste and mismanagement of resources — animal, vegetable and mineral, the US of A has achieved a profit-loss ratio of human units liberated per domestic human unit work hours or military “sacrifices” any of those philistine Achaean war-lords of the Iliad or Odyssey would have justifiably envied.

Why, America has become so efficient at liberating the souls of extraneous human-units from their pain-in-the-ass-to-feed-and-maintain bodies that most of the domestic human units don’t even know how truly great a liberator their Empire as become (your Empire, of course; but again, we useless eaters like to feel like part of the team).

Moreover, your genius at creating efficiency of liberation at minimal domestic human-unit cost has created not only jobs, but a surplus population of domestic human units for future use as laborers or even consumable units for aspiring liberators for generations to come!

Again, I’m Nobody, perhaps Nobody in particular, but I beg your leave to say, “Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my empty American heart.”

All together now, let’s sing:

God Bless America
Land I adore
Stand beside Her
And guide Her
Like a Pimp to
A young virgin whore…

bluddlefilth

“From the Depths…”

An alternative to the Manichean mask of Left versus Right diverting us from the real issue of Power versus Powerless, or Civilization versus it’s majority of Discontents (why is the majority always discontented, forced to slog through life at gun-point surveyed by camera? was it this way in
tribal cultures?) might be an invigorating change of pace. A venue that goes down deep, way deep, to a part of ourselves beneath (and predating) political fixes and even sound philosophies from which sincere opinion and belief are derived. Deep Art as opposed to Deep Politics (though politics and all that is deep form the blood and guts of art).  Time to “go down” as Nietzsche’s Zarathustra ¹did. From the depths to reach the heights, the kind of inner drama Aeschylus created with The Oresteia². Athena (female, same as The Furies) has id and womb, but also has a mind (born from head of Zeus, fully armed).  This seems dangerous compared to Apollo, whose radiant light is a bit more “civilized” than the mad, Dionysian³ darkness screaming fury-ously for blood.

A work such as W.B. Yeat’s “The Second Coming” or T.S. Eliot’s “The Wasteland,” could have expressed fear, disgust, frustration felt by representatives of every gradient on the imaginary prism of opinion from far “left” to far “right,” most people falling along the liberal-conservative median of “some-where-in-between.”  Bloodlefilth.org would be happy to accept such a work, should Yeats or Eliot be inclined to submit one.

“If Hitler” — to use a well-worn Monopoly Media cliché – wasn’t a hack artist who created kitsch, that is, unable to tap the “sub-Adolph” way down deep below the corny Charlie Chaplin mustache, he could conceivably have produced a work of poetry, painting or music that would convey his discontent with the madness civilization imposed upon him. At this depth, we all share the same instinctive disgust. It is only at the socialized, cerebral level that we twist the already devious linguistic architecture into even grosser perversions of the same shared “reality.” Had he been a true artist, there is no reason why he couldn’t have produced a work like Munch’s The Scream⁴, Kafka’s The Trial, Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, etc. All of which would be more than acceptable for publication in bluddlefilth.org — we are open to music and video art/statements too, so long as they follow our visceral aesthetic summed up by the word “bluddlefilth” itself, Joyce’s rendition of “battlefield,” among other connotations, in Finnegans Wake.

Peddlers of traditional, linear collaborationist Monopoly Media propaganda pimped under the guise of “important” 1000-page novels, heavy to carry but light and tedious to read, by Graphomaniac sylvanicides, such as Jonathan Franzen, David Eggers, David Foster Wallace and other quisling immortals, or “indy” films show-cased on a “movie-site near you” by Dreamworks or other “independent” sheiss-meisters, need not apply.

A submission by David Lynch or Ishmael Reed — raw, not “peer-reviewed” — would be nice, as would “Raw Power” by Iggy Pop (with The Stooges).

What we are talking about for bluddlefilth.org goes deeper than ideology, whether “left” or “right” which changes in terminologies and “new” idea sets, but is essentially the same protest or angry acceptance resulting in demonizing the “other,” as the case is with right-wing, as well as left-wing slaves of ideology, which creates a false piety and love/hate of “everyone” (“Communists love humanity but hate people,” as the old saying went; Fascists just hate everybody, particularly those who remind them of something naughty or downright nasty about themselves…).

“The Second Coming” or ” The Wasteland,” could come to us from either the “left” or the “right” and we would not know the difference and be none the worse for it.  It is this that will make bluddlefilth.org a multimedia site (text, graphics, audio, video) that stands as a supplement (not alternative) to other, more news and opinion-oriented political/social” sites on the Internet, which, being journals of intellectual opinion are – possibly must be by definition — Manichean “this side” or “that other” Nothing strictly from the depths or wherever art comes from.

Also, there is the female perspective, which we have not really seen develop,  in general, beyond the politics of feminism — whether lipstick-feminism, lesbian feminism, or chick-lit feminism — which is why works produced by Kathy Acker and Barbara Mor (her creative work i.e. The Blue Rental), photographer Nan Goldin, performer/musicians Lydia Lunch, Laurie Anderson and many others might stand out as examples of deep female discontent, rage, outrage, at eons of human energy frustrated and suppressed, although from the even more oppressed perspective of the “second sex.” Kathy Acker is dead, but Barbara Mor still lives to write more…

Joyce’s “bluddlefilth” states the “civilized/oppressed human condition” i.e. frustration of natural way-down-deep desire of the many in order to indulge the ego-exaggerated desires of the few, more truly than shibboleths like “Liberty, Equality, Fraternity (again — where’s the ‘Sorority?’).”

I’m with Mary Daly and Derrick Jensen on this, not to mention Joyce, Gertrude Stein and Rimbaud (and Keats, Shelley, Byron through, Beckett, Ralph Ellison, Ginsberg, Burroughs, Anne Carson, Ishmael Reed, Pynchon and onward).  Let’s go a bit south of consciousness for a while, though not too far south; even Cro Magnon expressed the complexities and contradictions of humanity in painting…

Hence, the bloodlefilth.org proposed masthead:

philosophy: crie de coeur (with acuity of kupf)

political affiliation: Id; on the Eros/Thanatos ticket for next and all future (s)elections

mission statement: “From the Depths…”

I doubt our words, sounds and images will cause Power to collapse, but it’ll be fun to throw rocks at its glass towers.

People create art and devise creative, subversive methods of expression in concentration camps. The greatest sin of De Sade was that he was sadistically boring (his point, actually, well before the Evening News: scenes of horror and perversion repeated over and over and over make one numb); nevertheless, shorter versions of his own crie de coeur, perhaps with some small intro, would be acceptable, as would a recording of an Iroquois “death song.”

We’re coming from a Crazy Horse/Sitting Bull/Nat Turner/Warsaw Ghetto mentality of, “no way to win, so nothing to do but fight — today is a good day to die!”

Even if others do not share this assessment, it will at least defuse the rhetoric of the “why don’t you see reason and do it my way” dynamic, whether it comes from Moses, Mohamed or Marx…all of whom Power sees as equally ineffectual and boring, though It might use this or that idea-set as a moral cover for its own ambition…

DISCLAIMER: I’m using fascism just as an example of one of many cerebral inventions meant to crush the soul to the depths. I would accept the Guernica⁵ if it were done by a fascist cause it means the inner human is trying to break out, but I am in no way tolerant of fascism itself — just in case someone gets the wrong idea. The Guernica could have been painted by a fascist Picasso had the town been bombed by Stalin-supported anarchists (though I don’t know if he supported them to the degree of giving them planes) because it’s a human statement about death, violence and tragedy, which fascists feel — everyday-people fascists, not psychopaths like Franco — just as they feel hate, fear and love. So as the bluddlefilth.org slogan says, “From the Depths…” Before civilization, which is, from what I can tell, a fascist-type system that overtook the socialist/anarchist tribal and community systems via the conquest and repression by which “civilization” is defined…

A NOTE ON TRANSPARENCY: It should be stated upfront that I am a “kept man.” I sold out big-time to my own publisher, Oliver Arts & Open Press: they’re paying the $18.00 needed to get a “bluddlefilth.org” domain name and website (receipt available upon request); nevertheless, bluddlefitlth.org will be open to all submissions, including those by younger artists, musicians, video/film-makers and writers if there are any to be found who aren’t already in prison (of one form or another).

ADVERTISER’S NOTE:  This call for bluddlefilth, by any means necessary, if necessary, will go out to as many established sites/zines as I can find. Each can choose to post/publish it or not, according to
taste/agenda/audience.  However, anyone who sees this as an “advertisement” for potential “competition” (quite the opposite: hope to spawn many riverruns of bluddlefilths) should think seriously about what they’re doing and why, or should at least get smart and charge money for it…

Adam Engel, Supreme Field Commander and President For Life (i.e. editor) of bluddlefilth.org has published all sorts of stuff you can find by “Googling” his name; so why waste space? bluddlefilth.org welcomes submissions of textual and graphic artistry and links to sound and video (until it can host it’s own audio/visual archive) rebellion – the bluddlefilthier the better – for it’s inaugural issue (Halloween seems like an auspicious date, but possibly sooner). Submit your soul to bluddlefilth@yahoo.com.

1http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thus_Spoke_Zarathustra

2http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oresteia

3http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dionysian

4http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:The_Scream.jpg

5http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:PicassoGuernica.jpg

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The Medium is NOT the Message: (fre)e-Publish or Perish

I am currently reading Finnegan's Wake, Gertrude
Stein's Geography and Other Plays, Saussure's
General Linguistics, Beckett's Malone Trilogy, The
Egyptian Book of the Dead and The Gods and Legends
of Ancient Egypt, both by Wallis Budge, poems from
the Complete Emily Dickenson, Complete Yeats,
Complete William Blake, Complete Mina Loy, various
programming books, including Smalltalk by Example,
and Barbara Mor's The Blue Rental.  

Though I possess hard-copies of all of these
books, except for Budge's Egyptian texts and most
of the programming books (I do have Smalltalk by
Example in hard copy), I'm reading all of this
on-line or via e-Book or PDF.

There are several reasons for my reading almost
everything on the computer. 

First and foremost, I'm always on the computer, so
it's easy to take a brake by just flipping to an
on-line text. 

Second, though I've created a reasonably
comfortable set-up in front of my computer,
reading a book on a couch, chair or lying on the
floor is painful because of hip and back problems.  

Third, regardless of what strength reading glasses
I use, my eyes are fucked-up and I don't feel like
getting even the minor surgery the eye-doctor said
I needed a year-and-a-half ago; nevertheless, I
can adjust digital print to the size of a
road-sign.  

But the other reasons might pertain to other
people.  

All of the books I'm reading are either public
domain or free (I have the pdf of Blue Rental,
published by Oliver Open Arts & Free press). Ones
that I don't own, like the Budge books and various
"complete editions" of poets and other authors, I
either downloaded for free or bought for
ninety-nine cents -- many from Amazon, which is
"catching on" to their own hustle of charging
"hard-copy" prices for e-Books by offering free
downloads of public domain editions or charging 99
cents to three dollars for immense collections
like The Complete Nietzsche, which includes
everything he ever wrote for a mere $1.99.  

It has always been easier and more practical to
read computer manuals on-line, whether they be
difficult programming manuals or basic "How To"
pdfs for Mac and Windows.  But authors of both
basic and advanced manuals for programmers and
GNU/Linux/Unix users created a formidable
challenge to Big Publishing by adapting the
GNU/Linux/Free Software Foundation's "Copy Left"
agreement whereby they retain the rights to their
work but must offer the programs/manuals/texts to
anyone who wants to alter it so long as they
attribute authorship of the original to its
original author.  

This is why most of the best software, certainly
the safest, is free, including the GNU/Linux
operating system itself, which certain companies
merchandise by adding their own for-profit
user-friendly applications on CD and DVD while
legally obliged to offer all source code and
programs of Gnu/Linux itself for free, on-line,
down-loadable by anyone.  Programmers download and
improve each others work, provide open source code
and proper attribution and everybody wins -- in
theory.

There is a specific Copy Left agreement for books
and other published works, but the same principle
applies.  If someone wants to rewrite your book,
which nobody ever wants to do if it's poetry or
fiction, especially since there's no money
involved, they can do so, as long as the original
is also available and attributed to your
authorship. 

Authors of programming manuals, many of whom
authored or contributed to the development of the
programs themselves, have been offering
copy-left-ed free pdfs of their manuals while at
the same time self-publishing (via iUniverse or
whomever) expensive hard-copies of the manuals to
sell to Universities for use in curricula.  They
can make money off those who can afford to pay,
while also ensuring that their work is out there
for use by programmers who are not in school but
capable of learning, developing in and even
changing the language of the manuals.  

O'Reilly Media, long the publishers of the best
Unix programming manuals, expanded to Mac and
Windows. They are in the publishing business, not
programming teachers, therefore are mandated to
make money.  While still offering the best manuals
in hard-copy and e-Book, the effect of programmers
copy-left-ing their work (some of them writing for
O'Reilly and making special deals for free
distribution like Perl creator/author Larry Wall)
affects them hugely.  They responded by first
lowering the cost of e-Books compared to hard-copy
versions; nevertheless, anything over $5.00 for an
e-Book is outrageous.  So they created special
discounts etc. but also did something that Amazon
did not do: made all e-Books and publications
DRM-free (DRM: digital rights management).  That
is, once you purchase an e-Book, it's yours for
life, available for download at any time, on any
machine, in whatever e-format (e-Pub; PDF; formats
for proprietary devices like Kindle, and others).  

This is important. Once you buy a digital book,
song, album  or video from Amazon, the sale is
final.  If your machine -- iPod, Kindle, computer,
whatever) gets lost or destroyed, tough shit; you
gotta buy your "digital collection" all over again
-- from Amazon.  Apple caught on to this hustle
and offers buyers of songs/albums/videos from
iTunes the chance to re-download the item/items
they purchased at least once on the same machine
as well as up to 5 other machines you own or will
own in the future. Not really "DRM-free" but a
"value-added resource" to beat it's competition.
When my iPod Nano was damaged, I learned that
Apple would "allow me to" download all the music I
had "purchased" -- rightfully so -- whereas Amazon
treated all purchases as hard-copy sales, i.e. all
transactions are final.  Sales of what? "Rights"
to one copy of the digital file I paid for but do
not own as an actual product?  iTunes ensured my
come-back business while Amazon can go fuck-off as
far as music downloads are concerned.

Again Amazon fought back (against who? everyone, I
suppose) with the bundling of free or 99-cent
public domain packages for Kindle.  

But where does this leave "traditional book
publishing?"  

In a different world.  Whether or not you prefer
reading a traditional hard-copy book, you must
admit that the way you read has changed.  At least
it has for me.  I was always a one-book-at-a-time
reader, maybe I could handle a couple
simultaneously, in different subjects, in school;
but seven, eight, nine at a time?  I never did
more than one, maybe two.  Then again, I never
wrote more than one or two letters in a decade.
Now I send and receive dozens of emails a day. The
way I read is similar.  A page, a paragraph, maybe
only a sentence or two at a time then on to my
on-line chess games to make a move or two in each
then on to reading an Object Oriented Programming
manual (OOP), or writing Object-Oriented Prose
Prgrams (OOPP), then back to reading parts of one
or several books.  

I can't imagine it's all that different for other
folks who spend the bulk of their time in the
proximity of some kind of screen (or carrying one
in their briefcases, pocket books or pockets),
particularly those born after 1990.  

I know very few people who read books unless they
have to.  Of those, literary books are low on the
list and poetry almost non-existent.  But I know
lots of people who download books, whether
"literature" or that meta-category invented by
book publishers, "non-fiction" which includes just
about everything ever published that isn't a
short-story or novel, including poetry, which
seems to be quite popular on-line.   

Reading has become part of the over-all
multi-media package, and as such, is conducted in
the manner of other "apps," usually briefly,
on-the-fly, then on to something else, then back
to reading, but not always the same text, maybe
something different, some new knowledge recently
downloaded to the new medium (whether it be a
Kindle, iPad, netbook, lapdop, phone or relaxing
at home before a warm desktop PC). 

Why the Big Media publishers have been churning
out 1,000-plus page Grapho-maniacal tomes is
certainly puzzling.  Perhaps a last-ditch attempt
to grab the old "book crowd" with reminiscences of
the size (if not content) of Dickens, Tolstoy,
Dostoevsky? I don't know, but Jane Austen seems to
be the hottest thing on Kindle -- then again, she
wrote shorter books.  

Literature (whether as "fiction," philosophy,
poetry, physics, or any other subject written
about regardless of artificial categorization and
arbitrary pigeon-hole placement by Big Publishing)
is not dead, it simply changed incarnations.  But
trying to fight Big Publishing with books is like
trying to pit Charlie the Tuna against Moby Dick
(whether as copyrighted signs by corporate
"signifiers" or the living, endangered
"signified") both representative of dying bodies.

Nevertheless, literature as representative of
living language cannot thrive without new blood
and change.  But who the hell can find anything
new or different amid the morass of glop churned
out by big publishing or the hundreds of thousands
of e-Books (some possibly good; some possibly
great; some possibly profound and life-changing)
by authors who generally would not be authors
without considerable prodding by the "You Too Can
Be a PUBLISHED AUTHOR" con advertised by vanity
publishers.  

Yeah, yeah: Joyce, Shelley, Blake, Faulkner,
Byron, Gertrude Stein, Walt Whitman, Emily
Dickinson, Rimbaud and Mina Loy god-knows-who-else
were all "self-published" at one time or another,
and many died that way.  But Shelley's dim-witted
cousin Biff, Byron's butler, and Gertrude's Alice
were not also simultaneously "self-publishing".
What is being "published" really amount to but
production, advertising, distribution and for the
"immortals," so-called, public domain free-for-all
acceptance, teaching and perpetuation, of an
author's books?  

Here's where an Indy publisher who truly values
quality text over the production, dissemination
and profit of quantities of texts, can punch out
Big Media bullies like Harping Collards or Fubar,
Louse & NoClue the way Gnu/Linux punched out
Microsoft (why would China buy Microsoft Office at
the "discounted price" of $100 per user when a
single free CD or down-loadable copy of equal or
better quality  Libre Office or GNU Office or
similar free-ware can be booted up on every
computer in the country within hours?).   

Whatever the subjective, often contradictory value
of editorial selection, such a process sure makes
it easier for folks to choose from the
information-overloaded pile.  

A publisher who could accept and publish, under
its brand/aegis, great books as free e-Books would
become The Name.  Of course, it takes time,
experience and successful editorial selections to
built a reputation that would establish a Name,
but it can be done.  Especially in a market in
which such books are offered for free or a
"nominal" 99-cents (which, considering the low
cost of keeping a server full of such books,
website, etc. could be over-the-top profitable
within days).  

This Bold New Publisher could of course offer its
e-Books as printed, hard-copies for those who want
them and will pay a fair price or shop elsewhere,
which would be essentially, everywhere else.  But
again, the Bold New Publisher willing or able to
devote time and resources to reading new
manuscripts and publishing the best as e-texts
will quickly earn a "Name."  

The Name will bring in more quality submissions,
the best of which, according to The Name's
subjective editorial values, can be offered as
print or e-Book. Perhaps The Name can charge a
nominal fee competitive with Amazon's $.99 to
$1.99 enabling, This Bold New Publisher to hire an
editorial staff, buy more hard-drive space, even
make money (after overhead and author royalties)
which will be used for further investment in the
production of quality material – if The Name knows
what's good for it and doesn't want a quick,
one-way ticket back to the information-overloaded
pile.  

Wonder why someone hasn't thought of this
before...or perhaps Big Media has and is just
waiting to beat any Bold New Publisher to the
punch and, as usual, establish a monopoly, squash
all real or potential "competition" and return the
new digital medium to old Big Publishing's
mediocre mold.

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