Next Week at Harriet
Update [8/31]: I thought it would go without saying that I meant no real harm with this, the idea being that a little humor might thaw things out a little over at Harriet, and that an openly ridiculous travesty could in fact somehow be the only appropriate response to the innuendo and slander that have been propagated there of late. But available evidence suggests otherwise, so I’m taking it down. Apologies for any offense–and, if you came here looking for it, for any disappointment.
Why am I the only one whose head is connected to his real body?
Thank god for sunglasses.
Kent
Please do us all a favor and get fucked you asshole Nazi censor. And take Robbins that shitbag poet wanna be with you/Oh lookit me I edited the Chicago Review. Yeah and you turned it into apiece of shit asshole.
[Ed. Note: Despite a comments policy that rather rigorously excludes things like this, I figure every once in a while you've got to let some of the hate mail through, for sport if nothing else. For the record, I did censor two of Mr. Conway's equally obnoxious comments, and I will probably censor anything else he submits. --RPB]
Bobby, I’m jealous! How can I become an asshole Nazi censor? Congratulations, my man.
I could tell you, but Quentin Tarantino would have to kill you.