Seriously pissed off, meaningless rant ahead. After this picture and page break:
...I remember when Authors didn't try to be my friends. They were professionals, who had a phracking "Profession" and kept their ugly, messy personal stuff to themselves. They didn't respond to unprofessional reviews because they knew better than that.
If some yokel in New England wanted to mouth off about their book, they ignored him because he wasn't worth their time as a Professional.
I remember when people actually took a stand for something instead of being all wishy washy and talking out of both sides of their mouths to placate everyone.
I remember that Free Speech used to mean you could say what you wanted, as long as it wasn't illegal. It didn't have to be nice. It didn't have to be objective. It didn't have to be Saccharine Sweet.
I remember when I could read a book or stop, because I didn't like it or because the sun was shining or because I found out the author was a complete dillweed and I wanted to have nothing to do with them. I remember when people didn't get their panties in a bunch because I didn't finish their phracking book!
So, you keep playing "nice".
As for me? I'll tell the truth about a book and the author, no matter how distasteful it may be to you, because you know what? My duty isn't to be nice. My duty isn't to the author. My duty is to myself and then to warn others about really bad books or to bring to light a really good book.
And honey, like or lump it, an author is inextricably tied to their book/s.
So take your little set of "be nice" rules and stick them in a black hole.
And to close this little rant of rantiness, I trust you all notice that I have not gone onto someone else's blog/post/picture/facebook/whateversite and posted this. I did it here without impinging on anyone. I even used a break so you didn't HAVE to see this in your feed. Nor did I curse or profane. Barely.
In closing, I believe this pictures sums things up pretty good: