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Aside from the IRS investigations and slander lawsuits, the number one most irritating thing about running this web site and publishing the associated zine has to be getting unsolicited offers to write for one or the other from total strangers. It doesn't happen often, but like a recurring infection it's really annoying when it does happen, or at least it usually is. This isn't because the people who suggest they'd be a good addition to The Inner Swine milieu are all assholes; certainly some of them are, but most of them are just creative people who get the joke of TIS and think they'd be a good match. Most of these sorts of queries begin with praise for TIS and I generally get the sense that they're honest fans. Every now and then a true prick shows up who doesn't have a clue, but that's rare. Usually the person suggesting they write for me is nice, and I end up feeling like a complete asshole when it all ends in insults, acrimony, and death threats. It usually ends that way because I am an evil, controlling bastard with very little empathy for my fellow humans. No, really. The Inner Swine, of course, began its life as a communal project between me and my then- roommates Rob, Jeof, and Ken. The four of us launched the idea of starting TIS, and worked on it with various levels of enthusiasm for 2 years before, one by one, everyone but me gave up and left. Then I took everything I'd written for it up to that point and put out issue 1(1), and TIS was reborn as a perzine. At first I pretended I wanted submissions, and even ran ads in the early issues demanding them. Over time, though, I realized that any time I actually got a submission from someone, I reacted with anxiety, hostility, and eventual disdain. Sometimes this was deserved; the submitted work sucked, or didn't have anything to do with TIS and its philosophy. Sometimes, however, there was nothing wrong with the work, it either simply wasn't very interesting to me, or was too political in nature. There are lots of opinions bandied about TIS, certainly, and some of them could even be classified as political. But these opinions are a) mine, and b) usually presented with some attempt at softening humor. When I get an article that grimly details an argument without a single amusing reference to anything like helper monkeys, missing trousers, or hangovers, I get sleepy, and I assume that will be the reaction of most TIS readers. People don't read my zine to become thoughtfully informed, dig? Actually, I'm not sure why people read my zine. I guess I'm not even totally sure anyone does read it. Many times people who suggest they write for me are nice enough when I beg off, even if we've gone back and forth a few times, even if they've actually spent effort on a piece. This is a testament to their niceness. The fact is, I am usually 95% sure I don't want them writing for me when they first approach me, but I don't want to be a total ass about it, so I figure a good compromise is to at least read something and then say no thanks. This leads to awkwardness, however, because they almost always mistake this for honest interest, when in fact it is craven patronizing this has nothing to do with their work, which at this point I haven't even seen. It has everything to do with the fact that I fear people, and wisely, I think. Even though I no longer request submissions, or make any effort to solicit them, I haven't actually stated that I don't want them, so I suppose it could easily be argued that I bring this upon myself. I would agree, except that some of the people who submit work to me are arrogant, hostile, and humorless about it long before I have opportunity to arrogant, hostile and humorless. A lot of times these people send me their writings with an attitude of You remind me of me on my less- brilliant days, so why not print something good for a change. When I'm polite and say, sure, send something along and I'll take a gander, it just fans the flames of arrogance, and when I inevitably cringe away from non-Somers content and offer up mealy-mouthed apologies for being too controlling, they inevitably get pissed off. So, even though I bring some of this onto myself, I have to say I think it takes some balls to just email me out of the blue assuming I'll swoon over your essay, especially if said essay is about as original and interesting as my dirty underwear. And people with balls like that don't get consideration from me, dammit. Some people out there react to rejection as if I'd just insulted their mothers, and this bugs me. It's my fucking zine, and my web site, and if you think I'm some sort of asshole for not digging your stuff, well, you're probably right, but that's not the point. The point is, I've once again lost my trousers, and have to go look for them now. If you know where they are, please contact me in the usual manner. Jeff |
November 24, 2002