My Critics

Well, I recently mentioned to a friend, a good friend, that when I had written enough letters to be able to glean through them and pick out one hundred and fifty good ones, then I would publish "Letters from Bradland".

My friend responded, " You know,...... there are those whom would say that your letters are just the rantings of an ex-postal employee". And he smiled at me. And he was right, 100% correct except for the word "just". I am an ex- postal employee, and the term, ranting, has been used to describe my letters in the past by those of greater education than I , so I argue neither point. But "just " the rantings , No, No No.

"Just" makes me sound like a damn rabid dog, foaming at the mouth, spewing rantings on empty E-mail boxes and shitting on the floor. Are you kidding?

I would have to argue these letters are the "exceptional" rantings of an ex-postal employee.

"Just " makes my letters sound like they are not entertaining , thought provoking, funny , sad and enlightening.

"Just" diminishes the sociological and cultural differences I try to illustrate between the rural and urban lifestyles I expound on.

"Just" makes my letters sound like any sum bitch could sit down and whip out a little ranting . I take exception to that.

My letters make people feel rich, smug, intelligent, happy to be where they are, superior, self righteous.

My letters, and their honesty about my bad choices, make others feel good about the choices they have made. It's important for people to be given credit for doing the right thing, and how often do everyday heroes like YOU get a pat on the back for being strong and making the right choices? Kudo's to you whom can read where I went wrong when you avoided the pitfall.

My letters give perspective from perception you can only get from the Bradman.

ie

Then I thought, " That miserable mother*****will probably go out to dinner tonight, have a few drinks, go home and get in bed with a women whom loves him, not once think about how lucky he is, and then not be totally cozy, until he remembers that I'm alone, Pissing in a milk carton in a funny looking shack in sub-freezing temperatures, With nothing but a wood burning stove to warm myself, after a one course dinner of smoked salmon and only a dog for company.

Thats why I'm here , so everybody can be comfortable.

"Just" gives the impression there is nothing but the words on the surface. I'd like to think there are deeper thoughts conveyed, a deeper story told. And I do believe that "Letters from Bradland" will be a roaring success despite what the critics think . Who foresaw the pet rock?