Stanley Crouch, who slapped Dale Peck in a restaurant in July 2004, has been spending the past year and a half determining which authors that he should slap next. “I’ve whittled it down to twelve names,” said Crouch. “But I’m hoping to hone it down to ten. Nobody disses Stanley Crouch.” When asked to reveal these names, Crouch remarked that there would “be a few surprises” and that he was not at liberty to say who they were.

“The problem is that plotting the slaps has kept me from writing more books,” said Crouch. “But once I get the violence out of my system, I plan to write more lackluster novels.”

Inspired by recent memoirs from Erica Jong and Edmund White, acclaimed writer Jane Smiley promises that you’ll be seeing a side of her you’ve never seen before with her upcoming memoir, The Notches On My Bedpost. “People think that because you write about horses all the time or your letters get published in the New York Times that you don’t have much of a sex life,” said Smiley, in a recent interview with The Paris Review. “Well, dammit, Erica Jong has nothing to compare against me. Martha Stewart’s husband? Why, I fucked Martha Stewart!” Smiley’s statements have stunned the literary community, who were eagerly awaiting another benign volume about horses that they could discuss with their book clubs. New Yorker editor David Remnick is equally remiss. “If Jane wants to go down that sensationalistic road, well, we won’t be publishing her in these pages.”

In an interview with Le Monde Diplomatique, Michel Houellebecq revealed that he’s grown tired of shocking literary audiences. “I got to a certain point in my career and realized that beneath the tawdry revelations, there’s a kinder, gentler Hoeullebecq,” said Houellebecq, who had also recently given up smoking. Houellebecq, who is now considering becoming a monk, is now writing a novel with “cute and cuddly animals” and promises that it will offend nobody. He is also in talks with Disney about adapting Whatever into a G-rated film adaptation. “It’s the toughest thing I’ve ever had to write, but this should be something you can take the whole family to see. I’m even giving the narrator a name.”

Levi Asher offered disturbing evidence on his blog, Literary Kicks, that Sarah Weinman is, in fact, a psychotic cannibal and not the “nice person” that everyone thought her to be. While attending a panel titled “How the Fuck Do I Sell My Book? Please Help Me Before I Sob On Your Sleeve,” Asher noted, “Weinman approached a struggling author and screamed obscentieis in her face. Seconds later, Weinman carved up the author with a knife and started lapping on the blood trickling down her neck. The audience was shocked.” Ron Hogan, Ms. Weinman’s partner over at Galleycat, responded, “This is a gross mischaracterization. Sarah is a vegetarian and is only on three antidepressants right now.” Hogan vowed to “hunt down this Asher guy and show him who the real psychotic is.” Litbloggers feverishly expecting a new scandal are awaiting further reports of the evening to corroborate Asher’s findings.

At a press conference this morning, James Frey revealed to the world that he is, in fact, J.T. Leroy. “You may think this beard is real,” said Frey, “but it’s actually a very expensive theatrical prosthetic.”

The news came shortly after Oprah Winfrey was to announce J.T. Leroy’s upcoming book, The Needy Ego Is Always Deceitful, as her upcoming Oprah Book Club pick.

Responding to these recent comments, a spokesperson for Ms. Winfrey noted that she was fuming and was prepared to tear out James Frey’s left testicle on live television, throw it into a frying pan and eat it in front of her studio audience.