MISSION STATEMENT ... To celebrate where it's deserved! ... To take the Michael out of institutions and individuals where it's deserved! ...
Recently I had occasion to prepare my gravestone epitaph:
GENE...
Educator, Novelist,
Humanitarian and Humorist
- TO KNOW HIM WAS TO LOVE HIM -
Rest in Peace
....... But while I am still walking the earth do not hesitate to contact me at:
bobbyslingshot8@gmail.com
What is terrifying about this kind of pompous balls-ache from people like Gene Vincent is the complete lack of the capacity for introspection it reveals.
If Gene thinks this peevish encomium from Bertrand Russell [an egotist of Olympic standard himself] applies to me, then he is welcome to do so, just I am welcome to tell Gene to take his pompous balls-ache and stuff it up his arse where it belongs.
But that he obviously doesn't think that it applies to him shows just how deep-seated is his neurosis, psychosis and narcissism. If I didn't loathe him and everything he stands for, I might feel sorry for him.
But the fact that he will never feel sorry for himself - why should he, as the epitome of perfection in his own eyes? - guarantees that I wouldn't waste my sympathy on him, though I might be persuaded to piss on him if he were on fire.
As ever, Detterling, a reasoned, eloquent and elegant rebuttal of Gene's feeble plagiarism. As you say, Gene's problem is not that he has no idea: it's that he has no idea that he has no idea.
Very well done on a broadside delivered with considerable restraint, although if Gene reads it and understands it [two unlikely eventualities] he will be literally unable to understand that it leaves him with a face lavishly coated - indeed smothered - with Oeufs Benedicte.
Mary Winterbourne Gary Bandall Sebastian D’Orsai Antonio del Auto-Grande Quacky Quackworth Ducky Duckworth Jobby Jobsworth
Our apologies for the late appearance of the answer to the teaser question below, promised at 1400 today but delayed due to circumstances beyond our control.
In the meantime a teaser question for the 2023 Grand Christmas Gutless Vermin Quiz:
What common quality have all these books?
Solomon’s Portico (Subtitle - The Queen of Sheba’s Back Passage)
The man who heard Jenny Lind Sing (Subtitle: The man who heard Lily Langtry Fart)
A Meditation on the Psalms (Subtitle - A Wank on the Toilet)
Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths (Subtitle: And Marianne pissed her knickers in C & A)
ANSWER:
None of these books progressed beyond a spavined, laboured and derivative first chapter, and as a result none of them have been, are in the course of, or will ever be published.
Mary Winterbourne Gary Bandall Sebastian D’Orsai Antonio del Auto-Grande Quacky Quackworth Ducky Duckworth Jobby Jobsworth
AND NOT TOO LATE TO ENTER THE GREAT GENE VINCENT NON-PUBLICATION DAY [II] EXCUSE SWEEPSTAKE.
NB AN ADDITIONAL POSSIBLE EXCUSE HAS BEEN ADDED, MAKING A ROUND DOZEN ALTOGETHER. AS FOLLOWS:
[a] Withdrawal of the book because of copyright issues pertaining to the non-existent illustrations by the equally non-existent illustrator Johnny Bluenote;
[b] Cancellation of the book by production workers at the publishing company on the grounds that they resent their wages being frozen in order to pay an advance to an author who couldn't write "fuck" on a lavatory wall;
[c] The refusal of print media to accept advertising matter for Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths on the grounds that even judged as shit it is shit, and, after all, there have to be limits to commercial greed, and Gene's psychotic belief that he can write should not be nourished;
[d] The world is not yet ready for the searing honesty of authors like Gene Vincent who make no bones about the fact that despite not being able to write, they have a right to be published, paid and read;
[e] Resentment in the literary world that a pretentious, talentless prick who has been a "professional full time writer for seven years" has produced not a single publishable word, whilst professing contempt for journeymen who actually write books, get them published and make money out of them.
[f] a principled decision by Gutless Vermin that, as "Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths" is such a dazzling masterpiece, it will not be published, because it will so outshine rival writers as to rob them of their livelihood; Gutless Vermin is a genius, but not so selfish as to wish to extinguish lesser talents by his brilliance;
[g] Gutless Vermin can't write, and the proof of this is that Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths is still, twelve years after it was begun, only 3,200 words long; more than that, no publisher in his right senses would spend money on printing it;
[h] Gene had paid a vanity publisher to have it published, nut his credit card has been declined;
[i] Gene has paid to have it published on Amazon, but his credit card has been declined;
(j) On publication eve, Gene stages another of his “going missing” stunts, whereby he pretends to have disappeared to who knows where suffering from nervous exhaustion. In fact he is holed up in his study with a wine box of cheap Chianti and a rather sticky bundle of jazz mags.
(k) On December 13th, Gene becomes a voluntary patient sine die at the Uxbridge and Hillingdon Retreat for Bewildered and Delusional Piss-Artists.
[l] Gene will claim to have been visited in a dream by the shade of the late Stephen James Joyce, the grandson of the author and fanatically litigious guardian of his estate. In the dream, Stephen Joyce pointed out that "Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths - and Marianne pissed her knickers in C & A" was plagiarised word for word from a late draft of Finnegans Wake, so if Gene were to publish it, Joyce and Finnegans Wake scholars - who between them have now published well over 7,000 papers on the novel - would seek him, expose him publicly and ensure that his name, currently unknown in literary circles, would soon stink them out with a stench perceptible from space.
With which of these twelve excuses will Gene try to fob us off for the seventh time in two years?
Place your bets by midday on December 13th. First prize: Dinner with Gene Vincent Second prize: Dinner, bed and breakfast with Gene Vincent Third prize: Dinner, bed and breakfast and a day out in Uxbridge, including Kaffee Klatsch at Harris and Hoole A glass of house white with the Friday Night Club at The Good Yarn
Adjudicators: the undersigned
Mary Winterbourne Gary Bandall Sebastian D’Orsai Antonio del Auto-Grande Quacky Quackworth Ducky Duckworth Jobby Jobsworth
What is terrifying about pompous, stilted-prose balls-ache from people like Detterling is the complete lack of the capacity for introspection it reveals.
Gene, do stop pretending to be someone else. You have no hope of doing that when you make such a terrible mess of simply being you. And if all you can do is tephrase Detterling’s adroit dismissal of your pretensions then that it a measure of just how far your impoverished mind has crumbled.
Jon Fosse, winner of the 2023 Nobel Prize in Literature, has said that “Everything I’ve written can perhaps be called a sort of mystical realism—not ‘magical,’ but mystical.”
Same applies to Gene Vincent's writings - and especially to his, as yet unnamed,, 'lockdown novel'.
What is terrifying about this kind of pompous balls-ache from people like Gene Vincent is the complete lack of the capacity for introspection it reveals.
ReplyDeleteIf Gene thinks this peevish encomium from Bertrand Russell [an egotist of Olympic standard himself] applies to me, then he is welcome to do so, just I am welcome to tell Gene to take his pompous balls-ache and stuff it up his arse where it belongs.
But that he obviously doesn't think that it applies to him shows just how deep-seated is his neurosis, psychosis and narcissism. If I didn't loathe him and everything he stands for, I might feel sorry for him.
But the fact that he will never feel sorry for himself - why should he, as the epitome of perfection in his own eyes? - guarantees that I wouldn't waste my sympathy on him, though I might be persuaded to piss on him if he were on fire.
Detterling.
As ever, Detterling, a reasoned, eloquent and elegant rebuttal of Gene's feeble plagiarism. As you say, Gene's problem is not that he has no idea: it's that he has no idea that he has no idea.
DeleteVery well done on a broadside delivered with considerable restraint, although if Gene reads it and understands it [two unlikely eventualities] he will be literally unable to understand that it leaves him with a face lavishly coated - indeed smothered - with Oeufs Benedicte.
Mary Winterbourne
Gary Bandall
Sebastian D’Orsai
Antonio del Auto-Grande
Quacky Quackworth
Ducky Duckworth
Jobby Jobsworth
Our apologies for the late appearance of the answer to the teaser question below, promised at 1400 today but delayed due to circumstances beyond our control.
ReplyDeleteIn the meantime a teaser question for the 2023 Grand Christmas Gutless Vermin Quiz:
What common quality have all these books?
Solomon’s Portico
(Subtitle - The Queen of Sheba’s Back Passage)
The man who heard Jenny Lind Sing
(Subtitle: The man who heard Lily Langtry Fart)
A Meditation on the Psalms
(Subtitle - A Wank on the Toilet)
Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths
(Subtitle: And Marianne pissed her knickers in C & A)
ANSWER:
None of these books progressed beyond a spavined, laboured and derivative first chapter, and as a result none of them have been, are in the course of, or will ever be published.
Mary Winterbourne
Gary Bandall
Sebastian D’Orsai
Antonio del Auto-Grande
Quacky Quackworth
Ducky Duckworth
Jobby Jobsworth
AND NOT TOO LATE TO ENTER THE GREAT GENE VINCENT NON-PUBLICATION DAY [II] EXCUSE SWEEPSTAKE.
ReplyDeleteNB AN ADDITIONAL POSSIBLE EXCUSE HAS BEEN ADDED, MAKING A ROUND DOZEN ALTOGETHER. AS FOLLOWS:
[a] Withdrawal of the book because of copyright issues pertaining to the non-existent illustrations by the equally non-existent illustrator Johnny Bluenote;
[b] Cancellation of the book by production workers at the publishing company on the grounds that they resent their wages being frozen in order to pay an advance to an author who couldn't write "fuck" on a lavatory wall;
[c] The refusal of print media to accept advertising matter for Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths on the grounds that even judged as shit it is shit, and, after all, there have to be limits to commercial greed, and Gene's psychotic belief that he can write should not be nourished;
[d] The world is not yet ready for the searing honesty of authors like Gene Vincent who make no bones about the fact that despite not being able to write, they have a right to be published, paid and read;
[e] Resentment in the literary world that a pretentious, talentless prick who has been a "professional full time writer for seven years" has produced not a single publishable word, whilst professing contempt for journeymen who actually write books, get them published and make money out of them.
[f] a principled decision by Gutless Vermin that, as "Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths" is such a dazzling masterpiece, it will not be published, because it will so outshine rival writers as to rob them of their livelihood; Gutless Vermin is a genius, but not so selfish as to wish to extinguish lesser talents by his brilliance;
[g] Gutless Vermin can't write, and the proof of this is that Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths is still, twelve years after it was begun, only 3,200 words long; more than that, no publisher in his right senses would spend money on printing it;
[h] Gene had paid a vanity publisher to have it published, nut his credit card has been declined;
[i] Gene has paid to have it published on Amazon, but his credit card has been declined;
(j) On publication eve, Gene stages another of his “going missing” stunts, whereby he pretends to have disappeared to who knows where suffering from nervous exhaustion. In fact he is holed up in his study with a wine box of cheap Chianti and a rather sticky bundle of jazz mags.
(k) On December 13th, Gene becomes a voluntary patient sine die at the Uxbridge and Hillingdon Retreat for Bewildered and Delusional Piss-Artists.
[l] Gene will claim to have been visited in a dream by the shade of the late Stephen James Joyce, the grandson of the author and fanatically litigious guardian of his estate. In the dream, Stephen Joyce pointed out that "Granny Barkes fell in Woolworths - and Marianne pissed her knickers in C & A" was plagiarised word for word from a late draft of Finnegans Wake, so if Gene were to publish it, Joyce and Finnegans Wake scholars - who between them have now published well over 7,000 papers on the novel - would seek him, expose him publicly and ensure that his name, currently unknown in literary circles, would soon stink them out with a stench perceptible from space.
With which of these twelve excuses will Gene try to fob us off for the seventh time in two years?
Place your bets by midday on December 13th.
First prize: Dinner with Gene Vincent
Second prize: Dinner, bed and breakfast with Gene Vincent
Third prize: Dinner, bed and breakfast and a day out in Uxbridge, including
Kaffee Klatsch at Harris and Hoole
A glass of house white with the Friday Night Club at The Good Yarn
Adjudicators: the undersigned
Mary Winterbourne
Gary Bandall
Sebastian D’Orsai
Antonio del Auto-Grande
Quacky Quackworth
Ducky Duckworth
Jobby Jobsworth
Reply
What is terrifying about pompous, stilted-prose balls-ache from people like Detterling is the complete lack of the capacity for introspection it reveals.
ReplyDeleteGene, do stop pretending to be someone else. You have no hope of doing that when you make such a terrible mess of simply being you. And if all you can do is tephrase Detterling’s adroit dismissal of your pretensions then that it a measure of just how far your impoverished mind has crumbled.
DeleteJon Fosse, winner of the 2023 Nobel Prize in Literature, has said that “Everything I’ve written can perhaps be called a sort of mystical realism—not ‘magical,’ but mystical.”
ReplyDeleteSame applies to Gene Vincent's writings - and especially to his, as yet unnamed,, 'lockdown novel'.
For “as yet unnamed” read “as yet unwritten” or, perhaps, “never to be written”.
ReplyDeleteNPD(II) - 7
ReplyDeleteGVNPD(II)E SWEEPSTAKE - 8