It still amazes me that many demi-puppet lit-bloggers and writers have never even heard of the "Do-It-Yourself" movement, which the ULA embodies. Apparently they were raised as vegetated plants, as in the original "The Thing" movie, within the walls of the book conglomerates. They therefore relate every question back to the narrow corporate world which they view as "literature" in this country, not realizing that outside the intellectual skyscrapers spreads a vast array of independent writers and self-publishers who value their independence.
The demi-puppet vegetables, within their carefully fertilized (much shit involved) box of dirt, converse about the strange entity known as the Underground Literary Alliance.
"Yeah, well, like, they might be at this reading right now!" one of the vegetables-- a potato-- says to his box-mate the carrot. (Morgan Entrekin comes around with sprayer to water them.)
"They heckled the tomato!" the carrot responds with outrage. "Why did they do that?"
"Man, they wanted a book contract!" the potato says. (As vegetables lacking brains, they can't figure out the ULA is then going about it in curious fashion!)
Mr. Entrekin carries the box of dirt containing the vegetables to the window in his skyscraper office. Even he finds their conversation idiotic. Maybe a little sunlight will, uh, enlighten them. But after all, they're only vegetables.
They continue chattering away, the potato, carrot, and a few petunias, among others. Entrekin makes out occasional words; "book contract" most frequent. He smiles to himself. Well-raised plants! Their entire box-of-dirt literary world is encompassed by thoughts of book contracts! With such vegetables-- er, writers-- his skyscraper empire is yet safe.
As reward the publisher gives them a few more hits of mist from his water-bottle plant sprayer.