Some angry thoughts about copywriting.

I often feel, in these dark times we live in, that no one anymore cares about copy. In fact, as a writer, you're supposed to turn copy off and on, like a faucet.

Years ago, a writer I knew, and he was writing print at the time, would sit at his desk and read body copy aloud. 

"I am looking for euphony," he said. "I want the words to sound good as well as communicate well."

In any event, I've just been bludgeoned within an inch of my life with some copy that was, let's say, less than euphonious. 

I've typed the words below to explain:

A:

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair,...

B:
Eh, somedays things were pretty good. Somedays they sucked. What the fuck. I was confused.