Can't see the forest for the Frey?
So call me crazy, but I have to wonder, really, why the world seems to be folding in on itself over the fact that some writer, in a drive to get published—we’re all familiar with that—is the media and greater community’s punching bag, just because he fabricated a memoir.
Okay, okay, I know I’m gonna get the electronic shit kicked out of me for this, but considering the fact that there are so many people out there in the public eye who fabricate on a daily basis, with consequences far more dire than giving Queen Oprah a black eye for not seeing this one coming, my question is:
Who fucking cares?!!?
Can somebody help me out here? Because my current (and first, let’s be honest here) book is a bit memoir mixed with some fabrication, fudging of the truth, whole truth and nothing but the truth, and some existential drama tossed in for emphasis. Basically, my life sorta’ but not really.
If I get the fucker published, and it comes out as a memoir, am I going to have to give back all the body-waxed male hookers, blow and really goddamn good wine I know I’m going to buy from the first wave of riches? I’d like to know now, not because I’m going to not do all the aforementioned things, I’ll just be sure to a.) make sure I have a really motherfucking good time doing it and b.) avoid Oprah. (Which saddens me as, I’ve posted before, her couch is a bit like pop-literary Mecca for me…)
Okay, okay, I know I’m gonna get the electronic shit kicked out of me for this, but considering the fact that there are so many people out there in the public eye who fabricate on a daily basis, with consequences far more dire than giving Queen Oprah a black eye for not seeing this one coming, my question is:
Who fucking cares?!!?
Can somebody help me out here? Because my current (and first, let’s be honest here) book is a bit memoir mixed with some fabrication, fudging of the truth, whole truth and nothing but the truth, and some existential drama tossed in for emphasis. Basically, my life sorta’ but not really.
If I get the fucker published, and it comes out as a memoir, am I going to have to give back all the body-waxed male hookers, blow and really goddamn good wine I know I’m going to buy from the first wave of riches? I’d like to know now, not because I’m going to not do all the aforementioned things, I’ll just be sure to a.) make sure I have a really motherfucking good time doing it and b.) avoid Oprah. (Which saddens me as, I’ve posted before, her couch is a bit like pop-literary Mecca for me…)
posted by The Overeducated Beggar at Saturday, January 28, 2006
2 Comments:
The only reason anyone cares about this is because of Oprah. Augusten Burroughs must have fabricated at least half or more of 'Running With Scissors'.
Oprah publicly shamed him only to protect her brand.
I think Oprah should be publicly shamed. Do you remember her diva moment when she accused Hermes of being racist when they wouldn't let her and her friends shop past closing time. What a friggin' diva.
Whoa, no, no...you DO NOT have to give back the male hookers. You just have to pass them on, to friends who have crossed your path along life's way.
By friends I mean me. And by male hookers, I assume you mean shirtless, toned 18-25 year olds.
Is it hot in here?
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