It began with a charming correspondence I maintained with Aggro Littleton at DearBlogger.com, who believes that identifying the size of my penis as “pequeño” is a protected form of free speech. It continued with several emails to Holly Lisle, who slandered me further by suggesting that I might be a slattern (there is only one definition of the word!), but who would not allow me to send her a full-scale JPEG of the penis in question (along with three notarized statements from former lovers attesting to the size).

I know there are differing reports about my anatomical dimensions, but this is getting ridiculous! The lies, damned lies, and assorted hysteria directly caused me to ply into a bottle of Stoli last night. It is Littleton and Lisle’s respective charges that are not only slanderous, but have caused me considerable emotional and physical distress. (Physical distress indeed! I was, for example, unable to jerk off last night, because I was still stewing over every sentence, every word, and even the comma placement contained within Littleton’s wholly lost and unfounded charges.)

Now I’m wondering whether or not I even have a penis. And I won’t know for sure until I take a shower. And even then, can I truly count upon my own perception? But I must! For I am right, and nobody else can correct me! I have nothing to learn from disagreement. Thus, the appropriate measures have been taken.

Rest assured, I have contacted lawyers. I will be filing at least five lawsuits this morning. And if this isn’t enough, I will file five more tomorrow. My legal team will be taking a shower with me this morning, to determine if, in fact, the penis allegations are true. We will have very precise diagrams, blown-up as exhibits, that we will bring with us to court.

My lawyers will shut down every blog that deals even remotely with books. And they will do this on Christmas Day. Justice must be exacted for charges, real or imagined. And if it inconveniences bloggers as they attempt to celebrate the holidays, then these bloggers SHOULD HAVE KNOWN WHAT THEY WERE GETTING INTO IN THE FIRST PLACE!

I will fight, fight, fight, and then fight again. I’ll take this to the Supreme Court if I have to! I’m a blogger, dammit. And if this means point-by-point rebuttals of pedantic arguments, posted publicly and then further commented upon by readers, who will then take sides and waste additional time, then I accept the absurdities of a cruel universe.

Contact Music: “Balding makes Bruce Willis no less a man, and even enhances his acting abilities, the Hollywood star insists. The hardman is defensive about his thinning palette, but claims it means he can change his appearance more easily. He explains, ‘I’m a man and I will kick anybody’s ass who tries to tell me that I’m not one because my hair’s thinning.'”

“So what’s it going to be, fellas? Costello, I’m going to New York with you. We need ourselves a Person of the Year.”

“You!”

“Yeah, I’m the guy steering this committee. And if we’re not careful about nipping this in the bud, we’ll be here close to Christmas. You got any bright ideas, squirt?”

“Don’t you get it? You!”

“I got a name, shortstop.”

“You! That’s our Person of the Year!”

“What the hell did I do?”

“You!”

“You!”

“Yes, that’s it!”

“I was only doing what you did.”

“But that’s just it!”

“We can’t have two Persons of the Year. We had three Good Samaritans last year.”

“Which is why we settle upon you!'”

“That’s a conflict of interest.”

“No, it isn’t. Let me explain. The reader picks up the cover and sees the word ‘You.'”

“Which means the manager?”

“Yes.”

“The coach too?”

“Yes.”

“Anybody playing baseball?”

“Yes.”

“And who are these fellows? Do we need to know their name?”

“Well, we shouldn’t. Because the Person of the Year is ‘You.'”

“Then you’re the Person of the Year?”

“Yes.”

“And who are you?”

“Me. But that’s part of You.'”

“Me? The guy on first?”

“Yes. You’re You too!”

“The first baseman?”

“Yes. He’s Person of the Year too.”

“This is too goddamn conceptual. Priscilla wouldn’t approve.”

“What?”

“I Don’t Give a Darn!”

“That’s next year’s Person of the Year.”

Sara Nelson: “As for HarperCollins: it is well known that many Regan books—from Wicked to Howard Stern to three bestsellers about Scott Peterson—made a great deal of money for the company. Without her—and really, without her, will the imprint be able to make and market the books that reflected her uncanny and unseemly taste or lack thereof?—won’t Harper feel the pinch? The marketplace certainly wanted many of these books, which may say more about the marketplace than it does about the morals of editors, but we all live and die by that marketplace.And I can’t help wondering what the brass will say if their numbers are down in the first post-Regan year.”

Sara Gran: “For me, things work out fine (I can go to the suburbs or just shop in NYC for books, music, clothes etc.) but what about some poor mom who’s trying to get her kids clothes for school? She has exactly one option in the city: wal-mart, which offers terrible quality at average prices. The reason why I say this is, or might be, the future, is because I wish more people were aware that when it comes to this stuff there is nothing so special about New Orleans, except poverty.”

(via Pinky’s Paperhaus)