Once upon a time, a few million years ago (give or take a hundred thousand), there lived three cavemen; Og, Zook, and Ga'nu. They lived in a nice collection of caves, with a nice collection of cave men and women, just trying to get by and start a human race. Times were simple then. You started your day with a mammoth hunt, dragged a few women by the hair and raised your kids. Now Zook, he liked to spend his free time playing the rocks and making beautiful -- um -- music with them. Many nights he would play his rocks, and many nights the cave people would sit nearby (out of flying-rock-chip range) and listen to Zook play his music. Most enjoyed the sounds, some found them irritating (mostly the older cave people who didn't take to anything new). Those who enjoyed Zook's music came to listen every time Zook sat down to play, while the others would simply wander off, muttering about the din and often get stomped by a Mammoth because they weren't paying attention. Og didn't play the rocks, but he liked to tell stories by using some of the rock chips to draw on the cave walls. He would spend hours, working well into the night, with absolutely no light at all (since no one had bothered to invent the candle) and write his stories on cave walls. In the morning, when the other cave people woke, they would read his stories and marvel in the detail and the plot. Most enjoyed the stories, and spent hours reading the cave walls. Some found them annoying, they didn't like how the story almost always ended with the Mammoth winning. Those who enjoyed Og's stories came back every morning to see what else Og had written, while the others went over to listen to Zook or pick Mammoth poo from between their toes. Ga'nu couldn't play the rocks, and never had any stories to tell, but he had a talent the other three didn't. Ga'nu could make pretty things, useful things, with Mammoth hides and small Mammoth bones and even sometimes the big Mammoth feet (after he cleaned the caveman off the bottoms). Ga'nu could make jewelry and baby pterydactyl houses. He could build shelves to hold all the cave people's weapons, and he could fashion softer blankets from the Mammoth hides. Many people enjoyed what Ga'nu could make, and they would visit him often and make good trades. Some people scoffed Ga'nu and his hand-made pretties, preferring to wait another few millennia for a shopping mall to open up. Then things began to change. Suddenly Zook found he had to sign with a Label in order for his rock thumping to be heard by the other cave people, and the Label forced the other cave people to pay many many clams just to hear Zook hit his rocks. Og learned he would have to find an Agent, who would then find a Publisher, who would then determine what stories the cave people could read. They would have just a few weeks to find Og's stories, and if not enough of them did, the cave walls were erased and another story was written. Ga'nu was nearly forced out of business by products from another land, where small cave children spent long hours producing lesser quality blankets from Waterbuffalo instead of Mammoth hide. Something oozed up through the tar called Big Box Store, and swallowed up all of the pretty shiny things, and the cave people believed that it was good. Then things began to change. Zook decided he didn't like the Label taking all of his rock bashing, and he left to go back to the cave and bash his rocks HIS way again. When the cave people found him, and heard his rocks, they said that it was good, and they called him an Indie-artist, and soon there were more like Zook, and the cave people rejoiced in all the new choices of rock bashing they could enjoy, and Zook was granted Respect. Ga'nu decided the Big Box Store would not silence his urges, and he set up a booth at a cave art show and offered up his genuine, one-of-a-kind Mammoth blankets. When the cave people found him, and saw his quality blankets and how individual they were, they said that it was good, and they called him an Indie-artist, and soon there were others like Ga'nu, hand crafting pretty things, and the cave people rejoiced in all the unique Mammoth products they could enjoy, and Ga'nu was granted Respect. Og didn't like the Agents, and the Publishers and the methods they used, so he went back to his cave wall and began to tell his stories once again. When the cave people found him, and saw that his stories were entertaining and good, they became confused. Og's stories weren't talked about like the other stories were. Og's work was ignored by the Reviewers and the News people, shunned by the Advertisers (who were really lizards still trying to evolve). And while cave people did read the wall-stories, Og was shunned for having gone his own way. Instead of being called an Indie-artist, Og was labeled vain, a failure, one-who-could-not. Og still waits for things to change, but change they will. The cave people will decide what is good, and what is Mammoth dung. And some day, the ice will melt, the world will become round, and Og will gain respect and be called an Indie-artist at last. Meanwhile, Og will be here, sitting in the cave (now that he has a candle) writing his stories on the wall, where all the cave people who wish can sit with him and do some Midnight Reading.