AN OPEN LETTER TO THE FLAMING* FLAGGIT** Or, Those Who Can, Do. Those Who Can't, Flag.

*Flaming (v.i.):  The act of harassing, criticizing, demeaning or belittling the written observations or opinions of another.

** Flaggit (n. sl.):  Newly coined term for an individual who wantonly and without reason reports articles of another writer by placing ‘flags’ on them.

(Any similarity between this phrase and a similar pejorative is strictly coincidental.  No other meaning, hidden or otherwise, is intended). 

Dear Loser,

How do you endure slogging through such a pathetic life?  I can only imagine how discouraging it must be to wake up in your skin every day, knowing you will never fulfill your ambition to be a real writer, to know that regardless of how hard you try, you’ll never have an ounce of talent.  And to be so self-loathing, bitter and powerless, your only recourse is to cut down those who have what you will never attain: the skill to write intelligent, readable, entertaining content. 

I’m truly sorry that you were born with no aptitude for the craft.  Your frustration is almost palpable as you struggle to construct a cogent sentence, a rational paragraph, even a sentient four-line poem, only to discover that you are incapable of producing anything worth reading.  And, unable to accept your failure, you lash out at those of us who have enough command of the language to actually get paid for stringing words together with professional facility.  It must kill you to see how easy it is for some while you grind away, writing one incoherent word after another, completely unable to meet even grade school standards of composition.

It’s too bad that you find it necessary to turn your self-hatred and envy into vicious attacks on those who have what you so desperately want.  That you prefer to spew your bilious poison at those to whom you feel inferior, rather than to use their work as a learning tool is a clear indication of your patently lame-brained, mean-spirited character.

 I hope these childish, vindictive actions make you happy and give you a sense of power, fleeting though it may be.  You can play the cowardly weasel forever; the fact is, no matter how long you live or how hard you try, you’ll never get it:  YOU CAN’T WRITE!!!  For the sake of whatever mental health you have left, get over it already and get on with your life.  May I suggest that you use your ill-gotten points for a Home Depot gift certificate?  Buy a shovel, dig a hole and jump in.  We’ll all be the better for it. 

 Sincerely,