It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

It was a cold and rainy morning and the trees bent in humble passivity before the raging torrent of the winter wind that screamed the anger of a deeply troubled and hopelessly divided world.  The poet of this unyielding and uncaring moment lowered his head into the relentless torment as he started his glorious two-wheeled chariot and thought, "Man, I'm going to get really fucking wet on the way to the dentist."

'It was a dark and stormy night' is the crown jewel of bad writing so of course I celebrate its existence and commend the author who first used it.  I was reminded of it by my friend, Robert Floyd, whom I have known since we were tow-headed, optimistic children who went fishing with minnows in the dark and troubled waters of Putah Creek, and here's the message from him:

"It was a dark and stormy night" is an infamous phrase written by Victorian novelist Edward Bulwer-Lytton at the beginning of his 1830 novel Paul Clifford.  The annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest uses the phrase as a signifier of purple prose. The original opening sentence of Paul Clifford is an example:

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents — except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.

Priceless!


Update:  I've been advised that my ol' Dad is crawling his way out of the grave to make me stop.  I won't stop, ol' Dad.  It's my art, my craft, my passion!