Priloza's Theory #1058: On Editors

All Editors are proud, stuck-up pigs.

Which is probably why I fit the job description so well. They are, more or less all of them, arrogant, snobbish know-it-alls. They are quick to lash back at you when corrected, or when approached for clarification on their edits. They do not like people who know more then they do and hide their lack of knowledge by not approaching these people with questions. However if the person in question happens to be a subordinate, they will not hesitate to unload their queries, workloads or even PMS upon this person.

Editors are a strange lot; they are mostly reclusive, have troubled relationships that see them desperately trying to get away from their respective partners, lead secretive double lives that would shock the bravest of us and cannot pick up a colleague's document without inserting some (at times unnecessary) edits of their own.

Editors should be kept away from, in general, mainly because of their so-short-they're-hardly-even-there tempers. If you have angered an editor, run as soon as you see the first wisps of steam arising from their ears. Wait any longer and you might not have ears left yourself, or a head for that matter (for it will be bitten off, you dodo).

Editors can be found in small, tight groups of threes or fives or sevens. They prefer odd numbers so that they don't have to get too close to the other person (the second person can talk to the third person instead while the first person pretends to be busy, and so on). They suffer from terribly unpredictable mood swings, and more so if male. And there you were thinking only women suffer from PMS. Editors can talk for hours together on the political crisis in America (what? there isn't one? think again), the weather in Chennai or their plunging salaries, but get on the subject of their questionable grammar knowledge, and they clam up in 2 seconds flat. They will also throw pointedly hateful glares at you.

Editors are a dying breed. Editors ought to be preserved. Editors should be locked up. Now, back to my cell.