Once upon a time, in a vast landscape so huge, which makes the universe look like a postage-stamped sized yard in San Francisco, there was a kingdom. This kingdom started out happy and gay (as in "upbeat and merry"-not homosexual, you weirdo pervs-get your head out of the sexual thoughts, it's still morning!), and its flag bore the frolicsome orange banner. The kingdom invited talented and intellectual minds for a giant confab to exchange ideas.
What most didn't know or realize was that the talented were to fuel the kingdom by bringing in more interested parties which in turn would garner more revenues to keep the Orange Bubble going. The King wished his land would be so popular that someone from Rupert Murdoch's gi-normous world would offer to absorb his kingdom for a bazillion dollars and the young King could then purchase his private island in the Caribbean and retire before 40.
Pipe dreams, they are so wonderful. My pipe dream is to live in the City by the Bay. Unless I hit the lottery, that won't be happening... But I digress, as usual...
Alas and alack, this did not work. Quality was up but profits were down. So the King decided to open up the kingdom's borders to anyone and everyone. Open immigration, a wonderful thing! It was a shift from the original plan, but oh well... everyone must have a Plan B.
Many people came. Free stuff is hard to turn down. Ever see the lines at the sample stations at Sam's Club on a Saturday afternoon? Some newcomers were not happy with what they saw. Some were pleased as punch. Some were polite and respectful. Others shouted and were mean to everyone they ran across.
Many of the old guard felt betrayed. Their original invitation did not call for an influx of the "common" folk. The inital confab were angry about lack of grammar and bad spelling. The ideas were no longer deep, but fluffy like marshmallows drowing in a sea of hot cocoa.
In descended a glittery butterfly who called herself a princess. Now, as is the case with most narcissists, she was a princess in her mind only. (In my world, I deem myself Queen, but no one bows down to me, not even my family.) To most in the land, the Princess Butterfly possessed a beautiful exterior, but inside her heart was blacker than asphalt. The Princess Butterfly acted more like a bee than a monarch. She annoyed many in the kingdom. She was the Princess of Snark in her own mind.
The Butterfly Princess complained about "writing" but never wrote anything of note, and never commented on anything of note. The Butterfly Princess also was a terrible speller and sprinkled her offerings with misused homophones. Her offerings weren't even worth a comment.
The King didn't mind having this particular Princess in his kingdom. Right on, as they say. People commented on her outward "beauty" and the ensuing controversy brought in more clicks. Besides, the King knew the real truth. The Princess was no princess at all; no she was really a middle aged man in a lab coat. And the middle aged man was a friend of the King! Some said he was the King, but we all knew better.
The Princess in the Lab Coat was also other people in the kingdom. She/he was a poser! Dressing up in gaudy costumes and plain, she/he would swoop down and leave nasty droppings on the normally contented people of the Orange Land. Some would take heart medication; others would swat at the fly. Still others would hold their noses and say "Pee-yew! Ooooo, that smell! Can you smell that smell? Ooooo, that smell! The smell of death surrounds you...." (Oops! Sorry for that 70s flash back riff...)
The moral of this story? Well, as in the case with most post-modern drama, there is no moral, because there's no morality. The bad guys always win. The bank robbers get away. The theiving CEOs of big companies die before they're sentenced. The underwearless young mothers continue to drive SUVs with babies on their laps instead of in child safety restraints.
Thank goodness and Amazon for textbooks on forensic linguistics!