Sorry you get the reactions you do. While I think I would love it if you loved my work and bought it, garnishing it with a string of "A+" marks, I have to realize that other people, including you, might not find my writing compelling, interesting, or even in a commonly accepted English dialect.
Writing is about passion, but publishing is about reaching readers who are fickle and parsimonious and likely to read something that is exactly like the last 10 books they read. So I can imagine that as an editor for a small press you have to find books that people will buy so you can earn a living. It must be hard to have to read manuscripts written with great passion but little skill, and to have to be professional and direct in saying, "I'm sorry, but we really can't use this," all the while restraining yourself from adding "and before you think of submitting your work again, could you consider taking some writing classes or actually reading books in the genre you think you're writing in? This was written with the idea that others might want to read it, right?"
It's our babies we're sending you, and we think you'll love them as much as we do. We've carried them around, fed them, cleaned them, helped them grow and expand and develop, and then we send them off to you like it's the first day of school -- and you send them back with a note pinned to their shirt: "This kid is not fit to be in public." It can hurt us and we can react, but the better angels in us usually restrain us from saying stupid things.
But of course I'm sure you know this. Too bad sometimes we forget that it's a business.
Now I promise that if you give me your cell phone and private e-mail I will only pester you no more than five times a day about whether you have read my manuscript yet...