When people call themselves writers and then I read their writing I feel rotten as hell. (Or maybe it’s just people calling themselves writers???)
Besides my friend Tim I can’t think of a single person’s writing I would possibly want to read who hasn’t been dead for like 150 years.
Seriously when was the last time you went to a bookstore and took a recent novel off the shelf and flipped through it? Have you read anything from a quote unquote modern literary magazine? Good lord! I would rather eat my own balls, man.
As my good friend Gritt Calhoon would say: What sorta needle-dicked pinky-liftin turds are readin this crapola???