Myerson's treason

It perhaps goes without saying that the authors of this blog have never felt any strong sense of unity with our fellow scribbling brethren. Indeed, I myself remember once writing the line: "I'd be the first to rejoice if every other writer in the world but me died horribly in a horrific nuclear explosion."

However, I doubt we can recall ever having felt so distanced from a writer comrade as we do right now from Julie Myerson, who has managed to offer the worst excuse for writing a book that we have ever heard:

"The reason I wrote about it is there is an emergency out there in this country and it's called skunk."

Dear Hunter S. Thompson, Please return from the dead to save our writerly souls.

Meanwhile, Ms. Myerson could do a lot worse than take a look at this.