Because If THAT Happens, I’ll Bore Anyone I Want To

Yesterday’s post prompted at least one person to wax philosophical with me on the realistic “lifespan” of a good story, and he put it at roughly eighty years, the same period of time that on average it takes for the last person to have known you personally before you died to themselves die.  (He was quoting someone else, but couldn’t find the quote.  Perhaps I’ll look for it later, but right now finding it would be beside the point.)

Thinking about it, that sounds about right to me.

Of course sometimes, VERY rarely, an author gets to have their work read hundreds of years after their deaths, but as in the majority of cases it’s probably being read by bored schoolchildren forced to do so, this is less than a desirable outcome for most people.  On that note, let me reiterate, Please don’t ever use my writings to bore children . . . while teaching them English or otherwise!  There is one, and only one exception I will make for this:

If I am the one telling the children in 2099 or beyond to open their telepathic hologramatic interfaces to the works of Robert Alan, then I’ll allow it.

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