Many thanks to Michael Wolff for his non-defense defense of his book about Rupert Murdoch against my review of it on The Daily Beast. I pointed out as many errors, inanities, and outbursts of implausible mind-reading as I could fit into a 900-word piece, in approximate order of their absurdity, and effectively declassified the book as a work of nonfiction. The usual recourse of writers caught in the dissemination of such pelagic incontinences of drivel as Wolff is to pretend to ignore the review. As I hoped and expected, he could not do that and responded without a word of demurral or argument on the merits.
Instead, this syntactically challenged, scatologically obsessed myth-maker swaddled himself in Victorian bourgeois priggishness and wrote that the fact that I am a convicted criminal (proudly) serving my (unjust) sentence in a US prison deprives me of any right to criticize him. Further, I am mad “in squalor [and] constantly mocked;" am illustrative of the worthlessness of the Internet (his chosen medium of reply), and have formed a triangle of Internet evil with Tina Brown and Eliot Spitzer.
Read the whole thing. I have to admire Black's toughness these days. He's rising above his situation.
Con your in jail buddy. No one cares about your jailhouse opinion. How does someone stay so pompous while they are incarcerated? He still thinks he is in the House of Lords. What a joke.
ReplyDeleteThat's what I liked about his commentary. All the guy he was arguing with could say was "shut up, you're in jail." He couldn't answer a single one of Black's criticisms about his book.
ReplyDeleteI like that Black refuses sob or whine, and holds his head up.
Anyway, there's been some great writing from jail: Speer, Ghandi. And some bad writing: Hitler, DeSade.