Cuneiform is far more engaging of the faculties and demanding of careful composition. Struck by a strange mood, the aspiring author must gather clay from the river at low ebb, gather ash wood or reed and craft styluses, and must also build an oven, all the while lovingly musing upon the intended opus. Any mistake is the ruin of the opus. The tablet must be smashed and new clay gathered. In comparison, handwriting is but the careless ejaculation of worthless ink; fit only for brief amusement and animalistic territorial piss-marking.

You’ll note the erudition of this post. Indeed, I pound my words into my laptop with a hammer and then cook the bastard thing in an oven in order to submit.