Today's amusing find from roaming -- in my hazmat suit, of course -- the Internet world of Jonathan M. Sweet brings us the Iconoclast's own Amazon review of
a book in which he paid to have one of his poems published. You'll never, ever guess what his "famous poem" is about. Never. Ever.
Here's his review:
From a Writer of a Famous Poets poem [If you say so, Jon.]
I wrote "When-One-And-Twenty (The Ballad of Aggie H.)" in the fall of 1997 for a poetry class at Arkansas State University. I was 21. I had just lost my first job: columnist on the campus paper. It meant a lot to me. In a fit of melancholy, I composed a heartfelt ode [Well, which is it, a ballad or an ode? They're not the same thing, you non-poetry-knowin' eejit.]
to The Herald as if it were a woman, [A very young woman would be my guess.]
my allegorical [Clearly doesn't know what an allegory is, either. A newspaper is not an abstract idea. How the hell did he get a degree in English?]
lost love (the paper was known in the early days as the Aggie Herald, hence the title). In it I spoke of a betrayal by a jealous, lying rival, with whom Aggie is now with. [sic]
I asked her to come back to me; I begged for forgiveness and to be embraced again to her "inky breast". [Period goes inside the quotation mark, Mr. English Major. And "inky breast" is laugh-out-loud ludicrous. Even if it has ripened early in the Southern sun.]
Five years later I submitted it to be published in this anthology. I dedicated W.O.A.T to the copy editor whose filthy, hateful mouth cost me a career in journalism.
Aside from ripping off the title of one of A.E. Housman's most famous poems, Mr. Sweet demonstrates a woeful ignorance of standard punctuation with that hyphen between
when and
one. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that the title is another homage, maybe even a pastiche. Possibly both.
I wonder how Mr. Sweet's version of Housman's poem reads. Perhaps something like the following.
When I was one-and-twenty
I heard a wise man say
Don't obsess over revenge
And waste your life away.
When I was one-and-twenty
He told me it was best
To live in the real world and
Resist the inky breast.
Now I am nine-and-thirty
More stubborn than a mule
And I know one thing certain
That wise man was a fool.
Warning: Jarring transition ahead!
For those of you who are unfamiliar with how the newspaper business operates in the United States, this might be a good opportunity to make clear that Mr. Sweet was
never going to be employed by any newspaper other than
The Herald even if he hadn't been fired for plagiarism. Newspapers don't hire recently graduated college students as columnists. Ever. Period. Those jobs go to senior reporters and editors with many years of experience. And at the smaller papers, where recent graduates almost always start their careers, there probably isn't a single person on the staff whose job involves nothing more than writing columns.
Also, Mr. Sweet has none of the skills -- and is utterly incapable of learning the skills -- that are required for entry-level jobs as a reporter, photographer, copy editor or paginator. For starters, reporters and photographers have to be able to drive to assignments and deal with the public in a polite and professional manner. Behavior that causes the public to call the police is right out. Copy editors, paginators and photographers have to possess some very serious computer chops. Copy editors and paginators also have to be able to work in an office under deadline pressure and the close supervision of senior editors who do not generally react well to having their instructions thrown back in their face along with comments about getting "a knife in the throat."
Finally, there's the fact that Mr. Sweet's work is unoriginal, badly written and racist. These talents are not in high demand, as the sales of his books and comics indicate.
This is one of his demands that he requires to be fulfilled before returning to college (which he will never). Well I got news for ya Sweet, your demand will never be satisfied because there isn't a college in America or the world where girls will randomly call guys in their dorm room unless they're trolling you. How out of touch do you have to be to think that relationships work by having girls randomly call you while you're sitting around in your dorm room being anti-social. Sweet desperately wants to be with a woman, yet he doesn't even have the basic understanding of how a relationship works. Not to mention he's completely afraid of socializing in the normal college manner such as going to parties or drinking at bars. God help him. 
