You know how a celebrity will be asked how they got started in the business, and they’ll respond with “Well, I got onto an elevator with this guy and he was an agent,” or “Some chic just came up to me at a coffee shop and asked if I wanted to act (model),” which basically translates as, “Someone wanted to fuck me, but I’M the one who got lucky.”

So, anyway, for a writer, that moment comes when enough people want to drag you out by your night guard and feather and tar you. (I’m not actually sure what that means, but I’ve always pictured myself as looking like a dodo bird as the end result if it should ever happen to me.) Apparently, to a select few people, I am looking incredibly tar-able.

I’m not sure why exactly, but apparently I am a fraud, a liar, and “not the brightest crayon in the box”. Now, now people, don’t pull out your one-of-a-kind, specialty zingers just on my account. You do tickle me so. I am glad to see how concerned everyone is about the possibility of me getting sued, but what I saw (in my opinion) was what I saw, and I have a hard time being worried over saying something that isn’t even negative about someone who has everything, when a dumb cunt like Ann Coulter can go spouting off all she wants about entire sects of the population. (As a disclaimer, that dumb cunt thing isn’t just mine, it’s a lot of peoples’ opinions.)

“Mariska Hargitay the Gay” must be one hell of a popular search term, that’s all I know. I was lost, but now I’m found. It’s like Amazing Grace.