You know, when I was starting out in this business, being a quilting humorist meant something. We were part of a long tradition of valiant crafters who stood as the gadflies of a world full of self-important ninnies, and we took pride in our work. And back then you couldn't just wake up one morning and say, "Hey! I think I'll start writing various obscenities scattered among mock tutorials for how to free motion quilt during oral sex." No, we trained. We apprenticed. We put in hours of reading. We lifted weights. We drank ourselves into oblivion fortnightly. We wrestled Mexican bears. We learned Tuvan throat singing. We had affairs with politicians (local, usually). We paid our dues and honed our craft and bribed the appropriate individuals.
And what did we write about? Zombies, mostly, but there was other stuff too. And it was good.
But today? Anybody with an iPad and an account on someecards.com can create so-called "humor" and put it out on Facebook for everybody and their Uncle Ferdinand to share. Do you have any idea how often someone has written "A Fat Quarter Is Not A Body Part" in the last year and thought it was a stone riot? Right now, there is a blogger somewhere typing, "Oh, golly I just have SO much fabric...I can't find any of my children...!! Haha!"and she has 2700 followers and a book deal.
The next time you are shopping for quilting humor, ask yourself: do I want to consume shoddy, tossed-off, mass-produced, my-husband-will-kill-me-if-I-buy-any-more-fabric type humor? Or do I want carefully crafted, professional humor with just the right amount of penis jokes and plenty of zombies?
Please—do your part to support the highly endangered quilting humorist. Rumor has it there is only one left, and she's running out of tequila.
*and totally facetious
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