When I was a bright-eyed youngster, I was taught the First Amendment of our great U.S. Constitution enshrined my right to free speech. But now the veil has been lifted and I’m sick to my stomach at the lengths the elite will go to to hide the truth. Dissenting views are not allowed anymore. Don’t believe me? I have first-hand proof. Not a single publisher is brave enough to publish my novel Rat Sex in Outer Space.
I have submitted my unsolicited manuscript to over 43 different publishers and I have not gotten a single response. Brave ideas drowned in a sea of silence. That’s a direct quote from Rat Sex in Outer Space and it applies here.
What hope do we have for the marketplace of ideas if the Average Joe is shut out? Can democracy thrive when the pipeline of acceptable thought is throttled so thin as to not include a six hundred page space opera about rodent intercourse? I think a man named Thomas Jefferson would be appalled. Also a rat named Thomas Jefferson; he’s my main character.
I’m no novice writer either. This is the ninth novel in the Rat Sex series, a direct sequel to Rat Sex in the Mariana Trench. I understand being wary of a debut novel but the absolute refusal to publish the uncomfortably thorough Rat Sex in Outer Space saga is conclusive proof of censorship. There is no other reason why a cosmic tale of copulation would go unread if not for the heavy-handed will of the elite.
Who benefits? Who is threatened by the American public reading my lightly-disguised manifesto? Judging by the responses to my inquiries, everyone is threatened. Not only the publishers, but the newspaper editors, the public school teachers, even my neighbors have begged me to stop even mentioning Rat Sex in Outer Space. They’ve even tried to bribe me, pay me in exchange for never writing another sentence. I won’t be bought by small minds.
It’s a lot like that saying, if you can’t identify the asshole in your friend group, then maybe you’re surrounded by secretive and manipulative assholes who refuse to give you notes on your novel.
I know you’re probably thinking it’s not a problem if my Rat Sex series isn’t published; there must be dozens of other interstellar epics about the topic. You would be mistaken. I’m a lone patriot in the frontier of literary boundaries.
But this isn’t just about me and my dreams of national recognition for my Rat Sex series. This is about every American who has a dream, who has an idea, who has a ninety-page outline under their pillow about a potential television series set in—and EXPANDING upon—a Rat Sex universe. If we plug the creative pipelines of Rat Sex writers now and in the future, the artistic fervor will only build and build and build to an uncontrollable crescendo of literary fury. Believe me, and the duplicitous members of the Hawthorne County Public Library Teenage Writers Circle, when I say you do not want to see the things a man is driven to when his Rat Sex series will not be heard.
At the end of the day, I fight for the common man in the face of censorship and repression. We need to let freedom—and rat sex—ring.