I chose the candy image because, to many people, Mary Sues are still a 'guilty pleasure'. They're sort of like television used to be--people devour them in private, but publicly go the 'What? Me watch that junk? I only watch the news and PBS' route. Sure, sure. And you only read Hemmingway. Booooring.

Well, I'm here to tell you that I read Mary Sue, I write Mary Sue, and not only that, I let the world know about it. And I'm no longer alone. There are a lot of people out there who were just waiting for someone else to admit it.

Come on, people. Be proud of your addiction. Mary Sue (and her male alter ego--Marty Stu) have most likely existed since... Well, you might say since Ugh grunted out the first story around the campfire. Ugh told them, "Ugh brave. Kill shaggy mountain tusk thingy. Women scream and jump bones. Ugh mighty man." Ogg slipped away muttering, "Ogg have shiny eyes and clean beard. Ogg brave. Kill two shaggy mountain tusk thingy with bare hands. Women from two tribes scream and rip clothes off, then jump bones. Ogg made chieftan. Ogg die bravely. Everybody cry..."

You can't tell me that some Elizabethan lass didn't fantasize about Romeo forgeting Juliet in her favor. There had to have been Victorian ladies who swooned as they imagined stalwart Jonathan Harker rescuing them from that strangely attractive Dracula fellow. How many young women in the forties read pulp magazines, and dreamed of themselves battling spies and solving mysteries--instead of drooping around prettily, waiting to be saved?

Mary Sue runs the gamut from tragedian to comedian--screwball, slapstick comedy at that. There's nothing in the world as democratic as a Mary Sue story, because it let's an ordinay mortal be anything I damn well please! *cough* I mean anything they please.

So, come on in and make the acquaintance of Mary Sue and Marty Stu. Marvel or snicker, as you wish. Just don't condemn, because hey--even if you never admit it to yourself...

You, too, are at heart a Mary Sue. Enjoy.