Ah, I love the smell of napalm in my inbox. So uh yah, thanks to you-know-what all over the you-know-where, things sure are jiggy this morning.
“… Emily Gould, and her privileged, pouty, vain, self-absorbed Agents of SNARK are a plague on the written word. They go to school, become semi-literate and then figure out that the lion’s share of the population is so poorly-educated that even their high school rants against the machine (only grown-ups can rage against it – children can only rant, because nothing they write will ever truly make a difference) will attract attention from the unwashed masses.
That anyone could call themselves a writer of any kind while still sprinkling their spoken words with ‘like’ and ‘um’ and ‘really’ like salt on an overcooked steak makes me go borderline. Not criminally borderline where I could hurt someone, but more like Freddy Muniz trashing a hotel room just to prove Topher Grace right.
Gould – and all of her whiny-ass sorority – are an insult to female writers who actually have something to say. I would love to sit Emily and company in a room with Gertrude Stein, Dorothy Parker, Erica Jong, Maya Angelou and Nora Ephron so they could see how the women who opened the gate for them view this new generation of ‘voices.’
I knew Nora, and she’d go medieval on their asses. She’d make Ving Rhames from Pulp Fiction seem more like Fozzy Bear. She’d tear Emily a new asshole, and then fuck it with a strap-on.
Emily Gould never pushed a noun against a verb unless it was to draw attention to herself, so she could say, LOOK AT ME, I’m a WRITRRRR, and aren’t I all cute when I talk like Zooey Deschanel? After all, I lost my job and my cat (oops, found the cat) and I’m all brave and shit and I’m not panicking. I mean, sure, everyone around me is rich and I can always go to my boyfriend’s parent’s house at the Cape. And worse comes to worse, I know how to suck a dick. How do you think my FIRST book got published?
Gould’s generation is the exact mirror image of the young, female writers who opened the doors for them in years past. The greats, like Parker and Stein, took their work seriously, but not themselves. This generation is all about promoting themselves, while they crap out books and articles that say nothing, do nothing and have only one purpose: make the writer famous.
But, someone far more erudite than I commented on this decades ago, without even realizing he was doing it. I quote Steve Martin from Planes, Trains and Automobiles (whenever you see the name Del Griffith, pencil in Emily Gould):
You know, not everything is an anecdote, you have to discriminate! You choose things that are funny or mildly amusing or interesting. You’re a miracle! Your stories have none of that! They’re not even amusing accidentally! ‘Honey, I’d like you to meet Del Griffith, he’s got some amusing anecdotes for you! And, oh, here’s a gun so you can blow your brains out, you’ll thank me for it!’ I could tolerate any insurance seminar. For days, I could sit there, and listen to them go on and on with a big smile on my face. And they’d say, how can you stand it? And I’d say, because I’ve been with Del Griffith, I can take anything. You know what they’d say, they’d say, ‘I know what you mean, shower curtain ring guy, whoa!’ It’s like going on a date with a chatty Cathy doll. I expect you to have a little string on your chest that you pull out and have to snap back. Except I wouldn’t pull it out and snap it back, you would! Ah Ah Ah Ah! And, you know, when you’re telling these little stories, here’s a good idea: have a point. It makes it so much more interesting for the listener!
Okay…. That’s out of my system for the moment…
a 30-year media veteran and award-winning journalist"
All righty then!
Uh, no further comment.
[ pictured: Choire Sicha, Emily Gould – both appearing in PX Me – How I became a Published Author, Got Micro-Famous, and Married a Millionaire ]