Widening The Circle of Jerks

In case you somehow missed the train wreck, Bob Olin Butler expands this "circle jerk of self-righteousness" (his words) by going on NPR to talk ad nauseum about his affair, his former wife, and his thought-process and his overall literary greatness as a Pulitzer Prize winner. With husbands like this, any 'ole psychotic media baron crossing one's path starts to look real good I suppose.

And now, these folks have way over-extended their 15-minutes.

Where Goeth Ted Turner's Glorious Ding Dong...

Oh Gawd and Baby Jesus! Our big honkin' homie Ted's latest seduction of somebody's wife, this time the total mental case writer, Elizabeth Dewberry, aka the spouse belonging to number #1 narcissist/novelist Bob Olin Butler, has spawned the best comments ever on the Internets! Oh, they are freakin' priceless, confirming the collective wit of the American public in times of literary crisis.

But first you gotta read the email written (and circulated by Gawker, for starters) by the cuckolded Butler to get to the Priceless Comments place. A sample of Butler's email, sent to the department in whatever school he teaches in, is below. The whole spoiled rotten Gawker enchilada, entire email with comments, is here.

She will not be Ted's only girlfriend. Ted is permanently and avowedly non-monogamous. But though he has several girlfriends, it is a very small number, and he does not take them up lightly and he gives them his absolute support when he does. And Elizabeth's leaving me is as much about the three weeks a month she is alone as it is about the week a month she is with Ted. She will find her own space and her own light in which to create the great works of art she is destined to create.

I will keep my house. I will keep my dogs and cats. I will keep virtually everything. She is being characteristically generous about that. But I will lose Elizabeth. And that is very sad. But the loss has been happening through many years of our shared struggle to make her whole. In that, I've done all I can do, as has she. I wish her the best. I ask you not to think ill of her in any way.

Again, the comments section awaits you here. Scroll down. Meow! Woof!

Weirder Than You, So There

Furthering my long-held belief that fiction writers are all psychotic, here's the saga of one really batty lady. The snake-oil shrinks who encourage their sociopathic tendencies by telling 'em to "write it out" outta be prosecuted.

From today's NYT:

Ms. Albert’s (the writer being sued) lawyer, Eric Weinstein, began his own remarks with the memorably understated line, “Laura (Albert) is a complicated person.” He said she was physically and sexually abused as a child. He said she was institutionalized in psychiatric wards and in a group home as a ward of the state. He said she was in therapy for 13 years with a psychiatrist whom she spoke to by telephone while posing as a teenage boy named Jeremy, an embryonic version of JT Leroy.

By the time the psychiatrist advised her to write, the persona of the teenage boy had become engrained as Ms. Albert’s alter ego, what Mr. Weinstein called her “bridge to the world.” Ms. Albert herself, in conversations before the trial, called JT “her respirator,” an unreal, though entirely necessary, entity that allowed her to breathe.

Who Yo Enemy Be, Bitch?

Martin Amis, Literary White Jesus of Britain, lays it all out here for you. You need read no further than his longwinded (for good reasons) treatise on the Islamacists. Only Martin Amis should be allowed more than 150 online words. He's the only person who can write this kinda dope.

Also, yesterday's post was cleaned-up for public consumption here.

One other thing and I'll let you go... TrueGritz is rumored to be back in the biz sometime today. 'Bout time too. Talk about some lazy-ass white hoes.