23 October 2014

Response to Hutcheson

It pains me to do this, as it would sadden me to chasten an adorable puppy that had shat in my slippers, but it is against my religion to leave a moronic, erroneous, slanderous and ad hominem review unanswered, however hapless the culprit.

In the unedited “public responses” of last month’s Bamfette, diminutive septuagenarian Millie Nash Hutcheson (I’m guessing her age, but when I briefly met her at the Alberta Poetry Festival about five years ago she was bubbling excitedly about her impending retirement, and rather quaintly assuming anybody gave a shit) exposed her complete ignorance of any poetic developments later than her 10th birthday via a criticism of my performance at the annual Jackson Frière memorial slam last April. It will be instructive to quote her salient words in full here, interspersed with my replies.
  1. I was looking forward to seeing our enthusiastic, amateur, native poet Silver Debuse take the stage a little before midnight,
    1. Amateur, Millie? As opposed to you who’ve never been paid a penny for your work, I understand. (And it was nowhere near midnight. You must have been drunk.)
  2. for while I've never dug out his self-published books myself, I have heard good things about his creativity and his performance.
    1. What about the six volumes of my poetry published by traditional houses, Millie? Ever think of reading something yourself rather than relying on reports from moronic critics?
  3. Unfortunately the work he chose to read for us on this somber occasion
    1. I did not read, I performed. Why should a slam be somber? We remember Frière with joy, not with po-faced priggishness.
  4. was a sonnet about sex with animals, not terribly well put together,
    1. It was not a sonnet. Have you never read poetry?
  5. and I'm afraid the poor man forgot his lines, because it barely rhymed at all,
    1. No, Millie, you're a moron.
  6. and the meter, what you could detect through his stammering, monotonous rendition, was by no stretch of the imagination iambic pentameter.
    1. No, Millie, you're a moron.
  7. It was rather embarrassing for everyone concerned.
I can stop there, I think.

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