The Fine Art of Finger Pointing

 

A secretary is measured by words per minute. The higher the number - the more pay she can expect to earn.

A football coach is measured by wins and losses.  The more he wins, the bigger his payday.

A writer is measured by the longevity of his work.  The greater number of years his creations remain popular, the more money he can earn.  But here’s where it gets tricky.  Spelling and punctuation seem to be stumbling blocks.  Content and or subject matter also enters into it.  No one wants to sit through some depressing story or endure a bad spell of wheather.   And reading about some lame, homeless person doesn’t seem to captivate the reader as much as diving into the world of riches beyond belief.   The reader likes to imagine themselves as the hero, as the one with all the riches.  Not too many of us envy the old coot sleeping along the edge of the sidewalk, mid-day in Manhattan.  His clothing all ragged and his breath, oh my goodness – his breath.  What has he eaten, anyway?  But already I’ve hovered over his body longer than I should have.  I can see you’re losing interest.   Not only that, but you have scooted your chair further back from this page, for fear his smell might get on you.  I see how you are.  You and your two-hundred dollar shoes, and your London Fog trench coat, dripping your eight dollar ice cream cone on him as you stand there feeling all superior.

What do you mean, where am I going with this?  I was just explaining about the secretary and words per minute and about the football coach enjoying a winning season.  It was you that suggested I add writers into the mix.  I had no intention of going down this road.  It was all you.