Over at Little Green Footballs, Charles notes that Mr. Wolcott is on a tear. I’ll bet James’ palms are growing hair again and he’s out for blood. Funny, I thought the full moon wasn’t till the 14th of January. Maybe they do things differently atVanity Fair? They must have some special exemption.
Personally, I love Mr. Wolcott. His sneer at Gates of Vienna brought us wonderful traffic, for which I am most grateful. He’s even on my “things to be grateful for” list…and I noticed his blurb on a Kingsley Amis book so he must be hot stuff, no?
The important thing is, he got our URL right. Even now, we still get an occasional click through out of his old post. Every little bit helps, so keep those trollers coming.
Hugs and kisses from the inmates at the zoo, dear James…
Well, maybe not kisses. To judge by your ad hominem attacks you have a potty mouth and obviously weren’t Raised Right. Someone should have a Serious Talk with your mother. Not to mention your rhetorics teacher. Naughty, naughty.
Pro Journo Venomfest
|Several readers have emailed to let me know that Wolcott was spitting some more venom my way; his latest says that people who comment at LGF are “a pathological rash,” uncivilized brutes with a “decapitation complex” who get off on “death porn.”|
|That’s some mighty fine word-slingin’. Good to see that professional Vanity Fair journalists are still keeping that tradition alive.|
Indeed. Though I do think calling the writers at VF “journalists” is a bit harsh.