those darn editors

Have you heard the one about a writer and an editor standing on the bank of a river with the sunset reflecting off the crystal torrent? The editor (a man, naturally) unzips his fly and pisses into the pristine waters. The writer (probably also a man or this incident would likely never have occurred in this enlightened age) looks at him in disbelief and says, "What the hell are you doing?" The editor turns to the writer smugly and says, "Making it better."
So yesterday I saw the editor on my latest story. I was prepared for the above, but what actually happened was worse: He hadn't even read the story I handed in a few weeks ago. I jammed to report it, jammed to do it, jammed to collect the reasearch, jammed to send in the bill—hey, the expenses are already on my credit card—and he hasn't even bothered to read it. Well piss on that.
I think there's one left in the pack.
Today's reason to smoke: editors