True story. About fifteen years ago I considered writing a short story about a metaphoric dysfunctionally depressed society that was centered around a machine that sounded out their day which was created by the town founder as a means of keeping harmony throughout the society. Well, over the decades, "smarter" people kept adding modifications, "improvements," and other important junk, which was actually doing more harm than good. Ignorantly, the town's leaders kept adding mechanisms to correct the negative results of their previous mechanisms, compounding the problem and leading to mass suicides, rapes, domestic abuse, and general mayhem until some person strips the machine down to it's essential function again. I never wrote the story because I couldn't find the proper motive for the protagonist and how Prozac played into the story. Anyway, the point being, for those of you without such an esteemed literary degree as my own: less is often more and the harder you try to "fix" something that was never broken, but rather was being meddled with by well intentioned but totally incompetent gits, the more worthless and unusable it becomes.Originally Posted by MadtownPacker
Just thought I would share.
Reply With Quote