I am a dinosaur. The Internet was not fun back in the day. And it is not fun now. When the Internet came along, I was excited because maybe, maybe, probably not, but maybe publishing would notice. I would send manuscripts through the mail. Because they used to scream at us not to contact them with email. In fact, all their email addresses were top secret. Why. They don't keep up because they can't keep up. Gatekeepers are always overwhelmed like no one else knows their pressure. Please. You sit at a computer all day and you click yes or no. How hard can it be. Now, they're screaming at us to not send send them paper. Send your manuscripts email. "We only read manuscripts on January 2, at 5:01am until 5:O3am." You think I am kidding. I never kid. Editors used to say to me twenty times a day times ten, right out the starting gate: Where did you get my email. That was really all they had to say. "We are publishing books." No. You spend most of your time not publishing books. Publishing on the Internet is much the same. Click. You're a publisher. I read your last piece. Click. You're a writer. But photography says. Click. You're a photographer. If I can get my dumbing down done by noon, I will have the rest of the day to remember my Apple password account numbering with at least two letters and the code. What code. The Internet code. The last one or the code you sent me a month ago. Do not get testy with the Internet. All that junk on your desk can be thrown into the lake. -- Tim Barrus