Oh. My. GOD.

"No more Mr. Nice Nutjobber regarding blog-poetry. Henceforth, I will murder blog-poetry the same way that this blog murdered my afternoon."
-Me, January 31st 2008

Here’s what one is immediately confronted with when they visit Many Colored Rainbow:

"Emotions--My Waste-Paper Basket of Emotions"

I’d be stabbing myself in the neck with a chimney-poker if I wrote those words in my head and didn’t immediately delete them. Then, under that delightful header it says, in part: "b4 whenever i used 2 write something i used 2 throw it in the waste-paper basket, nowadays i blog it".

I tried to ignore the amazingly-distracting butterfly-cursor while coming to the unfortunate conclusion that these people submitted what would have been trash in their garbage can to be reviewed? Well, that makes this job a lot easier, doesn’t it?

There are other things, too, that make today’s review a piece of cake: the hypnotic butterfly-pattern background as an accompaniment to the butterfly-cursor that makes me wonder how they could have stopped teaching the word "redundancy" in schools; the contrivance of a time-stamp detailing exactly when "a rainbow appears" on the site and how many leprechauns I’m going to have to maim to get them to knock it off; and, of course, the poetry...

There was a comment earlier in the "and, on deck" post about this Many Colored Rainbow, and they stated that it was "admirable poetry". I beg to differ, and I do so hardily: this isn’t "admirable" poetry at all, but rather angst with an oft-forced rhyme-scheme; the effort I’m putting into reading all of this tripe could more accurately be considered "admirable". "Life" rhymes with "strife" - I understand. But I’ll bet, if you look really closely, you can find something else to rhyme with "life", as well as some other way to convey your emotional/metaphorical/completely melodramatic "strife".

Look, imagine you took your child to a farm and they started asking questions in regards to the gigantic, steaming pile of hog-waste centrally-located in the pig-pen: would you tell them that it’s "pig-poop", or would you tell them it’s hardened, coiled chocolate-fondue so that you needn’t deal with the unpleasantness of pig-excrement?

You’d tell ‘em it’s pig-shit because shit’s shit, and pretending it’s dessert is unhealthy for everybody.

This, friends, is pig shit. My constructive criticism, because so many people have been taking our FAQ-answers so absolutely literally, is twofold:

One - stop it. Seriously.

Two - it looks as though ol’ Nutjobber’s getting any poetry-blog that comes our way, so think twice about submitting your poetrocities while I’m still being relatively nice about this.



Two authors, two fingers - never let it be said that I don’t enjoy symmetry...