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Is
it Envy I feel for John Grisham?
Or is he a sign of the decline of civilization?
He's John Grisham,
untalented author of such bestselling literary catastrophes
as "The Pelican Brief" and "The Runaway Jury". I am not
experiencing Envy of him, despite the fact that his name is
recognized far and wide, while my name, unless I win a lottery,
will vanish in a ozone-scented puff of smoke at the moment
I leave this earth. I am not upset that the most woefully
ungifted and uninspired of writers has made a killing writing
stories about lawyers, who are universally despised in American
culture, and producing movies starring such biggies as programmed
cult drone Tom Cruise. And it doesn't bother me that with
his zillions of dollars, he chose to move to rural Virginia
(see the Sin of Pride), not
at all far from my boyhood home, and then rammed his proposal
for a monstrous little-league complex through the county Board
of Supervisors, razing and defiling a beautiful piece of land,
because he coaches little league and simply couldn't be bothered
to drive fifteen minutes to Charlottesville to coach his team.
It is not envy that I feel. This man is sick and must be stopped.
He is ruining our literary attention span, he is ruining pristine
woodlands in rural Virginia, and he is ruining my life. You
will be next in his demonic plans. Don't say I didn't warn
you.
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