Why do we drive on parkways and park on driveways?

Monday, August 2, 2010

Blood and brimstone raining from the heavens.

So, at the ripe old age of 16, Justin Bieber -- questionably coiffed and under-talented male(?) pop tart -- is writing  his autobiography. HarperCollins is publishing it; it's sure to be a gripping page-turner, full of high adventure, sex, drugs, auto-tuning and groupie-groping.

Wait. What the fuck? Dude is SIX-fucking-teen. Have his balls even dropped yet? The sheer narcissistic arrogance of such a whiny little spitfuck presuming that, at his tender age, he's had enough experience at ANYTHING to merit a formally published autobiography is mind-boggling.

The people at HarperCollins must think the book-buying public has lost its collective mind. Who is going to buy (let alone read) such a tome? Wait...I am sure that legions of brain-dead, immature fan girls and bois, brainwashed into thinking that Bieber is talented, interesting and otherwise worthy of being immortalized in print will line up on release day. If they can't buy it with their own money, I'm sure they will get mommy or daddy -- willing to cough up a few shekels for the illusion of peace in the house and a superficial relationship with their kids and/or reality --will throw money at it, hoping that it will create the illusion of giving a shit.

What kind of presumptuous, self-absorbed, self-impressed idiot would write his memoirs before he'd really accomplished anything?


Carry on, then.


  1. Well, if "accomplishing something" is the metric, then we should have to wait for Hell to Officially Freeze Over before the memoirs of George W. Bush are published.

    Oh, wait. "Decider Points" is coming out in a few months.

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  3. Is it being published for the Leap Frog system, or perhaps in pop-up format?

  4. I feel so sorry for him -- all those child stars grow up to be bug-fuck crazy.

  5. There is a great comedy troupe in NYC who take autobiographies of the rich and slimy and read them out in a dramatic reading style. The Bieber book would be excellent for this.

  6. The memoirs of W.?

    I'm thinking "George and Dick Go To The White House".

  7. Pity the poor scrivener hired to be the ghost writer. Being the editor would not be much fun either.

    Would you take the Ghost job?

  8. As a publisher, this sort of drivel drives me insane. There are so many fantastic, worthy stories waiting to be told, yet the big guns all want the shit stuff...pablum for the masses...because it freaking sells. You want to be pissed at someone, be pissed at the current state of readers who shell out the bucks for this crap.

    I was just at a writer's conference and overheard an agent telling an author, "don't feel badly, all the editors in NY want shit." Makes me so glad I publish worthy books that have real guts and meat...


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