Dear Mr. Jones: If your literary talent was anywhere near the equal of your talent to offend you'd be a recognized writer who wouldn't have to be lurking around the internet launching cheap potshots at anyone and everyone in the publishing and movie fields. I'm sure you think you're some cute dude but, frankly, you're just another pathetic wannabe without the good sense to know when to back off and give us all a break. If GINNY GOOD is anywhere near as good as you think it is, I'll eat GINNY GOOD. In the meantime, please remove me from both your directory and your SPAM LIST. Stuart M. Miller
There, now don't you feel much better knowing your ignorance is etched in stone? I'm some way cute dude, dude, don't you worry your pretty little head about it. Part of what makes me so cute is that I read things before I rag on them. Maybe you're just pissed 'cause you're on the last page of my little list. G.
I couldn't possibly feel any better than I already do, just knowing you're concerned about my pretty little head. Now, be a good little cute dude and remove me from your email address book. S.
I prefer not to. G.
Oh well, that's what spam controls are for. S.
Dear G: Since you refused to remove me from your SPAM list when I asked you to the last time we corresponded (if that's what you call your meandering, sophomoric, brainless, self-aggrandizing, ego-maniacal literary drivel) I guess it's only fair to respond to you in kind. If the crap you write is still unsold, unpublished, unproduced and obviously unwanted by anyone of any meaningful professional standing in the book publishing and movie businesses why, maybe, just maybe, there's a good reason for it. Oh no! What a concept, after all, YOURS is the only "decent writing" churned out in the English-speaking world (hey, what the hell, no sense in limiting ourselves here; the ENTIRE world) in the last twenty years, so everyone else's literary efforts (and those of their agents, managers, attorneys, editors, producers, directors and all those other poor, deluded, money-grubbing pseudo-professionals with whom they surround themselves) have just been so much wasted time and synapse-firing. Geez, why don't they get a life, like you have? I hope my thinking hasn't been too original for you. It appears that we're in this together forever so, thanks for staying in touch. It's been real.....S
You seem to have understood exactly what I said; hey, maybe we're kindred spirits (nobody's paying any attention to you, either). Now go listen to the chapter of the audio book I sent you (the real book of which has been in book stores for awhile now, by the way) and try to tell me that that single chapter isn't better than any ENTIRE movie or ENTIRE book that's been made anywhere in the world in the last twenty years...I dare you. And there are thirty-four more chapters to go with it, each of which is just as good in its own way. That makes my writing thirty-five times better than all the crap churned out by all the other so-called writers and their agents, managers, lawyers, publishers, publicists, butlers, etc., etc., etc. who've been published or produced in the last twenty years, yes. Do the math. Thanks. G.
I did. It's not. Thanks. S
If you're not a moron it is. And I don't believe you. Why would you waste your precious time when you've already made up your precious mind? G.
Why, G, you're such a cynical, disbelieving dude. I did like the musical opening, and you do have a nice, if untrained speaking voice but, alas, the material is hardly groundbreaking. Just the opinion of a brainless sycophant, of course...stay in touch. S
Pfssh. It's groundbreaking shitless...I'd adore hearing what, in your opinion, was a better piece of writing in the last twenty years. G.
Not that I couldn't provide you with a list long enough to overwhelm your in-box, but what would be the point? The "foolish consistency" at play here is your astonishing, unsupported assessment of the quality of your material. I always encourage writers to believe in themselves and never give up no matter what anyone else has to say about their work because, as Bill Goldman rightly asserts in his ADVENTURES IN THE SCREEN TRADE, "nobody knows anything" (including me). But that doesn't include universal disparagement of everyone else in the world, which is your M.O. Life and literature are not zero-sum games, G. There's plenty of room for the success of others without it undermining your own opportunity to win, too. You don't seem to have enough generosity of spirit to allow for this which might, in fact, account in part for the failure of GINNY GOOD to find a meaningful market. There's no conspiracy operating against your success; maybe, after all these years, it's time for you to take a hard look at yourself, your work and your methods...? I know I'm wasting my time here, but you're just such an entertaining correspondent that I can't resist. The fact is, I truly wish you good luck; I have no reason not to. S
Here's what you don't get: The love of money is the root of all evil. As long as "literature" or "art" or "films" are "successful" based solely on the money they make, you're gonna have nothing but shitty, superficial, lowest-common-denominator literature, art and films. And there is a "conspiracy" operating against my "success." My success ain't based on making money. That's anathema to you and the "powers that be" in the entertainment, publishing and media industries. My success is based solely on truth, beauty and everlasting love. I've achieved it. You can't buy those things. You can only make them. Virtue is its own reward. And you can't provide me a single example of any better writing than my writing that's been published or produced anywhere in the world in the last twenty years. Go ahead and try. What you'll come up with will be moneymaking horseshit. I'll show you how ludicrous it is, word by word, sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph. You encourage people to not give up writing money-grubbing horseshit. I encourage people to do exactly the opposite, and I do my encouraging by example not by spouting a bunch of inane, walled-off, narrow-minded, destructive "success" stories. I've got nothing against you, either. You're an excellent speller. Oh, and the quality of my work is supported...by what precious few people there are left in the world who've read it and who know how to read and who know what good writing is. Go back to basics. Read some Nabokov or Celine (not Celine Dion) or Flannery O'Connor, etc., even Faulkner or Nathaniel West or Salinger or Pynchon, like, you know, in a pinch. It's not your fault that you're a brainless sycophant, you've been brainwashed from birth to be a slave to the almighty dollar, that's all. Donald Trump can't help it, either, the poor slob. Take a look around you at the "successful" guys in Hollywood. Is that really what you want to be? A cringing slave? Yikes. "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do." Truer words was never spoke. G.
Gee, G, I can't tell you how thrilled I am by your admission. "The love of money is the root of all evil." So fresh and original; it might be your first publishable work. I'm prepared to represent it to the pantywaist publishing industry without commission (I know that will get me drummed out of the money-grubbing agency business but, damnit, I've seen the light now and I want a piece of that truth, beauty and everlasting love that you've been enjoying). We shall, of course, accept no advance or royalties in your contract so you can maintain your pristine and virtuous status in life and, if anyone actually buys your work, they'll immediately be nominated for a Nobel Prize in Reading and given a full refund of the purchase price. With all the respect you deserve, S NitPicker, Agent To The Braindead
Were you to be in an enlightened enough state to give me all the respect I deserve I'd be honored, but of course you're not. Pity. You are kind of cute, though. Oh, go listen to this chapter. It's free:
As are the other thirty-four. Check 'em out, doof, if you dare:
And I'm still waiting to hear a single example of what, in your opinion, is a better piece of writing than mine that's been published or produced in the past twenty years. Stay in touch. G.
You don't know anything about me, G, so you're hardly in a position to be making judgements about my work, my motives, the state of my brain or what I "really want to be". Nevertheless, you're an amusingly bitter guy and I'm happy for you that you seem to be happy with the success you've achieved, whatever that might be. Thanks for the rare compliment about my spelling. Coming from you, any compliment is to be treasured...S
I know plenty about you from the resume you stuck up on some wannabe "writers" website. Took APA from 5m to 30m in billings...big whoop. And bitter? Me? Ha! I'm happy as a clam. (There's a groundbreaking simile for you.) You should read my book and be blown away like anyone with any brains is. Think of it as an IQ test; if you get blown away, you have some modicum of brains, if not, hey, join the crowd. G.
If I had the time, I would read your book, but I've already used up all the time I have for you in this fruitless, albeit entertaining, email exchange. It's way more than I usually give to hopeless wannabe's like you and the result has been utterly predictable. You're like a one-man cult; you have a completely blind and unsupportable faith in your belief and an answer for every challenge that's grounded in a "you're-too-ignorant-to-get-what-only-I-with-my superior-talent-knowledge-and-intellect-can-possibly-know". So, smart as you obviously are, you're just another loser; if you had the modicum of brains you ascribe to even those who "get blown away" by your modest literary talent, you'd know it. But, you know, I happen to be happy as a clam with my life, too. So, maybe I'll see ya around the beach. S
You can lead horses, etc. You're a semi-charming guy, too bad you're so brainwashed. And you don't know jack about my "modest" literary talent, not having read any of it. That's okay. You've got lots of company. G.
Semi-charming, cute and a good speller. Are you coming on to me, or what? As for your "talent", you got me wrong...again. I actually did read some of it the first time you sent me a SPAM last year. And I've now listened to two of the chapters you linked to your most recent SPAMs so I guess I'm now part of a infinitesimal, elite group of brainless sycophants who haven't completely ignored you. Sort of like a secret society without the greek letters. S
Oh, man, I've been coming on to you all along. That you might read my writing is the only reason I ever wrote anything I've ever written; that you might look at my SPAM website is why I stuck it up. You still haven't pointed out a single example of any writing that's better than mine. Try. Go ahead. Whatever silly horsepiss you come up with will get itself laughed off the planet. Don't be bashful; admit you do what you do exclusively for money. There's nothing "wrong" with that. It's the American way. Schlock sells. Read it, rep it, encourage it, convince yourself it has "artistic merit," call yourself "worthwhile," call yourself an advocate for "the arts." What a crock. And you're old enough and probably smart enough to know that. G.
Nope, just old enough and smart enough to recognize sophomoric bullshit when I see it. Which is where you come in, bless your heart, G. You are a truly world-class bullshitter which leaves me wondering how and why it is that you're such a smalltime, unknown "artist". In the real world, with your talent for nasty self-promotion, you oughta be a star. Maybe you need a guru, somebody like Karl Rove, to help you get your story out there. I'll give it some thought and get back to you. S
One man's sophomoric bullshit is another man's great art, as you and your artless, tasteless, tactless, witless, boring, chickenshit, money-grubbing Hollywood goons know oh so well. The "real" world...ha! You wouldn't know the real world from a cow. It's one thing to have a big ego and quite another to deserve to have a big ego. I don't mind pissing off deluded twits who think they're slick 'cause they make money selling preposterous horsepiss to the poor schlubs who want to be deluded twits too. All the king's horses and all the king's men with all the trillions of dollars they've wasted in the last twenty years can't write anything worth writing. I can. I do. That makes me better than you. Sorry, Charlie. G.
Ah Gerry, the dude with way too much time on his hands is back again, eh? And with an amazing new art form for the world, too. But wait, I think someone else might have invented it even before the fabulously talented, singularly enlightened, gleefully happy Gerard Jones did (we know he's all that because he's told us so, endlessly); they call it AUDIO BOOK. Oh well, I guess G. doesn't get out much to those nasty bastions of literary commerce we call book stores so, of course, he couldn't know that someone beat him to the punch with the "slickest new art form ever made". And Ger, if Sergeant Barry Sadler knew you were using his hit song, "The Ballad of the Green Berets" to enhance your Chapter 17, he'd come back and kick the crap out of you. As always, since I can't seem to get you to stop sending me your unwanted SPAM, which I must then attempt to turn into a nourishing meal for everyone who happens to read it on your SPAMsite, thanks for staying in touch...Stu
That I CAN use Sgt. Sadler's catchy tune is part of the newness of the art form, dork. It's history. It's true. It's edifying, enlightening, entertaining, innovative...nobody's ever done what I did before 'cause they're worried about getting sued and getting called silly names. It ain't a commercial venture. It's free. Like me. Unlike you. It's art. Boorish reactions like yours are part of the whole multifaceted, multimedia experience. Toodles. G.
Update April 2006
Ah, Gee, I've missed you. But wait, you've only been averaging 125,000 rejections annually? Well, of course, you've only sent it a bare fraction of us Nazis. I'll bet you haven't even made a single submission to South America where, as everyone knows, most of the unaccounted for agents, publishers, producers, executives and assorted other entertainment and media trash in the SS fled. Of course, most of the current survivors are now in their dotage but hell, nobody can fault their excellent literary taste. Maybe if you slightly revise the fabulous GG to include some references from Nietzsche and Mein Kampf and a song or two from the ever-popular Wagner on the audio version you'll find yourself with a hardcover deal (no advance or royalties, of course). Anyway, welcome back and don't you dare stop sending me your always welcome emails. 666, indeed. Stu Miller
Stuie! My fifty-seventh favorite penpal! There's a new kind of Nazi going around...poor Goebbels and them old goose-steppers couldn't hold a candle. You gotta start slipping the propaganda to 'em before the good little nouveau-Nazis get themselves conceived. Then, by the time they're adults, it's simple to convince 'em things like "Israel doesn't have any nuclear weapons at all" whereas the fact is that Israel has more nukes per person than any other country in the world: one nuclear weapon for every 20,000 people. And Israel don't gotta sign no stinking nuclear nonproliferation treaties, are you kidding? Playing by the rules is for stupid countries...like them poor schmucks in Iran. Now that's propaganda. And if you say anything bad, i.e., truthful, about Israel, well of course you're anti-Semitic...and being perceived as anti-Semitic in America these days is the same as being perceived as anti-Nazi in Nazi Germany. Am I right or am I right? Hey, you might have noticed that I put an ampersand by your name which means that I don't think you're a complete Nazi moron...worthless, superfluous, giddy, giggly, chickenhearted and money-grubbing, maybe, but not a Nazi moron. Congratulations! You're a rare exception. Oh, and here's a little Nietzsche, just for you. G.
Aaarrrggghhh!!! You tricked me! First you get me all excited with an ampersand, then you direct me to some Nietzsche and what do I find on the link, more rambling, to say nothing of boring, GG nonsense for the five or six minutes I could tolerate it. "His hair was short and blond and thick..." is as far as I got. G, I'm glad you're back but, please, no more misleading links or I'll have to ask you to remove that ampersand and shoot me a 666, after all. Meanwhile, what the hell got you going on Israel and its nuclear arsenal; was it something I said? Hey pal, if you found yourself surrounded and outnumbered by multimillions of enemies who've sworn (or tacitly support those who have so sworn) to wipe you off the face of the earth I think you'd arm up to the hilt, too. But, peace-loving, unreformed hippy that you are, maybe you'd just hand 'em each a flower and sing 'em a Jim Morrison song, or something, eh? Gotta go, stay cool. S
Oh, man, I'm amazed you got that far, almost seven minutes, wow...your attention span must have been stretched way beyond its usual thirty seconds. In another six minutes you would've gotten to your buddy Nietzsche. It's not Israel's nukes I give a rat's ass aboutI like my chances in the aftermath of Armageddon as well as the next guy?sit's the Nazi propaganda your poor brain's been infected by since birth that has turned you into such a tomato you don't know black from white, right from wrong, good from bad, etc. that I don't particularly care for. You believe the lies you're told, ha! You poor dear mindless dolt. My heart goes out to you. It's not your fault, I know. There are billions of brainwashed schlubs running around thinking they're clever, thinking shitty writing's good and good writing's shitty, you're one of 'em, big whoop. I'm trying to change all that, to make things better for you, to open your eyes and unplug your ears. I may fail, sureit's the entirety of the monolithic, three-hundred-billion-dollar a year media and entertainment Nazi propaganda establishment I'm going up againstbut that ain't gonna stop me from trying. Your grandchildren will thank me. They'll thank you, too, for being such a good sport...well, you know, if you call shooting fish in a barrel a sport. Heh. G.
August 31, 2006
Omigod! Gee, Ge, G, you're BACK...again! Please, please, please don't gimme that ol' 666. After all our time together I couldn't bear the thought of life with no more offers to follow your narcissistic links and let them "take me where they take me". What a concept; do the guys at Yahoo know about this? Anyway, must say Ciao for niao, it's late and I have sold a single piece of crap all day; I could be dissed by my personal laundress or some other staff member here at the worldwide headquarters of The Stuart M. Miller Co. if I don't get on the ball before lunchtime. 'Bye. Stuou'd just hand 'em each a flower and sing 'em a Jim Morrison song, or something, eh? Gotta go, stay cool. S
Get on the ball by all means, yes. There's unimaginably stupid schlock to be bought and sold and bought and sold. Without it what would the laundress do with her hard-earned five bucks an hour? Eat cake? G.