This Post Guaranteed 100% Emotionally Accurate
Spoilers contained below.
So by now I assume you've all heard about the continuing controversy surrounding James Frey's memoir, A Million Little Pieces. The latest word is that future copies of the book will have a disclaimer of some kind explaining that the author took certain liberties with the truth. I'm sure James Frey is sick of the whole thing by now, sick of constantly having to explain himself. I know I would be. So James, I am offering you a verbungle.com freebie. No, not a hooded sweatshirt with a drawing of an anus on it. I am offering to write your entire disclaimer for you and you can simply cut and paste it (or just the parts that you like) into your next edition. You can even pretend you wrote it yourself. Deal? Good. Have a look.
Thank You for buying this book.
This Book.
Thank you.
This Book has made me a very Rich Man.
This is true.
There are many things in this world that aren't true but that is true like she of the eyes the nordic one is true.
Since I am now a Rich Man and there's nothing the Haters and the Doubters can do about it except continue to Hate and Doubt, I don't mind telling you right now that in the following pages I used what is called artistic license a few times.
OK, maybe more than a few times.
That means that some of the things you'll read in here maybe didn't happen so much exactly as I say they did.
By now you're probably familiar with some of the charges against the Book.
How I blew my Ohio arrest and subsequent jail time out of proportion a little bit.
How I altered the details of a Train Crash that killed a Girl from my high school.
That maybe I didn't undergo a root canal procedure without an anesthetic.
You're probably familiar with all that because of the Haters and the Doubters. And every day new Haters come forward, along with new Doubters.
But I stand by my Book and I stand.
By.
My.
Life.
However, since there will always be Haters and there will always be Doubters, I think I may as well come right out and clue you in on a few other details I've altered slightly in the name of privacy, art, and/or commerce.
But first I want to talk about the impact of The Book.
Several times over the last few weeks kids have come up to me on the street and they say, James, thanks for the book, man. You helped me overcome my addiction. Or, You helped me understand what my father is going through. Or, You helped me. Live. You helped me live. And I say thank you.
I say thank you to them.
To Them.
But then they ask me, James, is it true that you initially tried to publish this book as fiction, and when nobody was interested, you let them talk you into calling it a memoir? Because that would make it more spectacular, more marketable? Did you even edit the book after they requested you go in this new direction?
And I tell them.
Yes.
Yes.
No. Not so much. No. It's pretty much the same book. Exactly.
And they look at me.
The Look.
Confused.
Disappointed.
Sad.
And it's my fault.
And I feel it.
Just a hint.
The Fury.
I can control it.
I own it.
It's mine.
The Fury.
I own the Fury.
And then they'll say, wow, didn't you ever think that was a little dishonest?
Yes.
I did.
I do.
And they say, I thought you were Mr. No Bullshit. The meetings were Bullshit. The Rock Star who bragged about his heroin habit was a Phony. The twelve steps were Bullshit. You didn't buy into any of that because you were Mr. No Bullshit.
What about, The truth is all that matters?
What about all that, they say.
And I always say the same thing.
I stand by the book as being the essential truth of my life. The emotional truth.
Of.
My.
Life.
The book is 432 pages long, I tell them. The total page count of disputed events is18 428, which is less than 5% of the total book pretty much the entire thing.
Go over anyone's scalp with a fine tooth comb and you'll find lice. Go over anyone's memoir the way the Haters and the Doubters have gone over mine and you'll find lies.
Lies.
You'll find.
Lies.
But I stand by the Book as being the essential truth of my life.
My Life.
And they look at me and the look is the Look that I've seen so many times. Before.
Pity.
Sympathy.
The Look.
I've seen The Look.
I know it's all my fault and I don't want the Look but the Look is always there.
The Look.
Fuck.
Pipe.
Whisky.
Whore.
Tussin.
Zotz bombs.
Cranberry Juice.
With vodka.
Jet Fuel with Tabasco.
Old Style.
I want it all.
I don't want the Look.
So I'll tell you.
I'll tell you now so when you see me on the street you'll know not to give me the Look.
Because you'll know that this book made me a Rich Man and rich men don't need Pity. They need cars and they need more Money but they don't need pity and they don't need doubt and they don't need The Look.
I once swore that I wouldn't dignify the bullshit but here I am.
Dignifying it.
The Bullshit.
Point by point.
The bullshit.
Dignifying it.
Dignifying it with a further response. Like I said I wouldn't do.
I lied.
I guess.
I lied.
Again.
Let's go then.
Here we go.
In this book you will read a phrase several times.
I am an Alcoholic and a Drug Addict and a Criminal.
Several times I say this phrase and I say it because it's true to the best of my recollection.
And if you were to see me on the street after reading this book and you were to ask me, James, by Alcoholic and Drug Addict and Criminal do you mean Wealthy Frat Boy who Drank Too Much and Snorted Coke with his Brothers and Became a Nuisance to his College Girlfriend?
Yes.
Is what I'd say.
Yes.
That's probably more accurate.
Technically.
But the emotional truth is that I was an Alcoholic and a Drug Addict and a Criminal.
The essential emotional truth is there.
And if you asked me about the rehab and you said, James, did you quit using crack cocaine because you ignored the 12 steps and came up with your own crude treatment strategy based on the principle of "Hold On", I'd say not exactly.
Not exactly.
No.
I never smoked crack cocaine.
Never.
Smoked.
It.
But I did do a lot of blow.
Which is the same thing.
And now I don't do it anymore.
Blow.
Ever.
But crack always scared me.
Never did it.
It sounded scary and ghetto and it gave me a street credibility that I thought would make my story more shocking. But no I never actually used it.
But I did quit blow.
And you'd say, speaking of crack, did you really fall in love with a Beautiful Crack Whore named Lilly while you were inside the clinic, and did she really kill herself the day you got out of prison? Which I'm guessing she didn't because you never actually. Went. To. Prison. Right?
I'd say, have you ever heard of a metaphor?
Wiseass.
A Metaphor.
A symbol.
When you set out to write the best book of your generation you use things like those. Metaphors. Look it up.
And I'd say, Halle Berry was a crack whore in that one movie with Wesley Snipes.
And she's beautiful.
Halle Berry.
Even as a crack whore.
So there you go.
And you might roll your eyes and say, What the fuck does that mean?
And I'd say metaphor.
Look it up.
And then maybe you'd say, Throughout the book, your temper flares up whenever you are confronted by authority. You come across like a real Tough Guy. I'm guessing that's all Bullshit, too?
Not Bullshit, I'd say. Artistic License.
Then I'd ask You, Did you ever find yourself in a situation where you're challenged and your blood starts to simmer and you want to Fight Back and instead you just say OK and do what you're told?
And then a minute or two goes by and then a day and then a week but your blood is still hot and your face is still flushed and you think of a hundred things you wish you would have said if you were strong enough or smart enough or quick enough or brave enough?
Me too, I'd say.
So every time in the book that I get in someone's face or fight someone or throw someone against a wall it's not really what I did but what I wish I did.
The emotional truth.
Of what I Did.
The essential truth.
Of what I Did.
And you'd ask me more questions.
About Leonard.
Not exactly real, I'd say.
Miles, the judge?
Nope. Uh-uh.
Composites, I'd say. Look it up.
And we'd go through the whole book page by page if that's what you wanted. If you were a Hater and a Doubter that's what we'd do.
Page.
By Page.
And you'd say lies.
Lies and lies and lies.
Lies.
And I'd tell you that I won't dignify that with a response but that the emotional truth is there.
It's here.
Here.
I am an Alcoholic and a Drug Addict and a Criminal.
Thank you for buying my Book.
-James Frey
New York City
January 2006
So by now I assume you've all heard about the continuing controversy surrounding James Frey's memoir, A Million Little Pieces. The latest word is that future copies of the book will have a disclaimer of some kind explaining that the author took certain liberties with the truth. I'm sure James Frey is sick of the whole thing by now, sick of constantly having to explain himself. I know I would be. So James, I am offering you a verbungle.com freebie. No, not a hooded sweatshirt with a drawing of an anus on it. I am offering to write your entire disclaimer for you and you can simply cut and paste it (or just the parts that you like) into your next edition. You can even pretend you wrote it yourself. Deal? Good. Have a look.
Thank You for buying this book.
This Book.
Thank you.
This Book has made me a very Rich Man.
This is true.
There are many things in this world that aren't true but that is true like she of the eyes the nordic one is true.
Since I am now a Rich Man and there's nothing the Haters and the Doubters can do about it except continue to Hate and Doubt, I don't mind telling you right now that in the following pages I used what is called artistic license a few times.
OK, maybe more than a few times.
That means that some of the things you'll read in here maybe didn't happen so much exactly as I say they did.
By now you're probably familiar with some of the charges against the Book.
How I blew my Ohio arrest and subsequent jail time out of proportion a little bit.
How I altered the details of a Train Crash that killed a Girl from my high school.
That maybe I didn't undergo a root canal procedure without an anesthetic.
You're probably familiar with all that because of the Haters and the Doubters. And every day new Haters come forward, along with new Doubters.
But I stand by my Book and I stand.
By.
My.
Life.
However, since there will always be Haters and there will always be Doubters, I think I may as well come right out and clue you in on a few other details I've altered slightly in the name of privacy, art, and/or commerce.
But first I want to talk about the impact of The Book.
Several times over the last few weeks kids have come up to me on the street and they say, James, thanks for the book, man. You helped me overcome my addiction. Or, You helped me understand what my father is going through. Or, You helped me. Live. You helped me live. And I say thank you.
I say thank you to them.
To Them.
But then they ask me, James, is it true that you initially tried to publish this book as fiction, and when nobody was interested, you let them talk you into calling it a memoir? Because that would make it more spectacular, more marketable? Did you even edit the book after they requested you go in this new direction?
And I tell them.
Yes.
Yes.
No. Not so much. No. It's pretty much the same book. Exactly.
And they look at me.
The Look.
Confused.
Disappointed.
Sad.
And it's my fault.
And I feel it.
Just a hint.
The Fury.
I can control it.
I own it.
It's mine.
The Fury.
I own the Fury.
And then they'll say, wow, didn't you ever think that was a little dishonest?
Yes.
I did.
I do.
And they say, I thought you were Mr. No Bullshit. The meetings were Bullshit. The Rock Star who bragged about his heroin habit was a Phony. The twelve steps were Bullshit. You didn't buy into any of that because you were Mr. No Bullshit.
What about, The truth is all that matters?
What about all that, they say.
And I always say the same thing.
I stand by the book as being the essential truth of my life. The emotional truth.
Of.
My.
Life.
The book is 432 pages long, I tell them. The total page count of disputed events is
Go over anyone's scalp with a fine tooth comb and you'll find lice. Go over anyone's memoir the way the Haters and the Doubters have gone over mine and you'll find lies.
Lies.
You'll find.
Lies.
But I stand by the Book as being the essential truth of my life.
My Life.
And they look at me and the look is the Look that I've seen so many times. Before.
Pity.
Sympathy.
The Look.
I've seen The Look.
I know it's all my fault and I don't want the Look but the Look is always there.
The Look.
Fuck.
Pipe.
Whisky.
Whore.
Tussin.
Zotz bombs.
Cranberry Juice.
With vodka.
Jet Fuel with Tabasco.
Old Style.
I want it all.
I don't want the Look.
So I'll tell you.
I'll tell you now so when you see me on the street you'll know not to give me the Look.
Because you'll know that this book made me a Rich Man and rich men don't need Pity. They need cars and they need more Money but they don't need pity and they don't need doubt and they don't need The Look.
I once swore that I wouldn't dignify the bullshit but here I am.
Dignifying it.
The Bullshit.
Point by point.
The bullshit.
Dignifying it.
Dignifying it with a further response. Like I said I wouldn't do.
I lied.
I guess.
I lied.
Again.
Let's go then.
Here we go.
In this book you will read a phrase several times.
I am an Alcoholic and a Drug Addict and a Criminal.
Several times I say this phrase and I say it because it's true to the best of my recollection.
And if you were to see me on the street after reading this book and you were to ask me, James, by Alcoholic and Drug Addict and Criminal do you mean Wealthy Frat Boy who Drank Too Much and Snorted Coke with his Brothers and Became a Nuisance to his College Girlfriend?
Yes.
Is what I'd say.
Yes.
That's probably more accurate.
Technically.
But the emotional truth is that I was an Alcoholic and a Drug Addict and a Criminal.
The essential emotional truth is there.
And if you asked me about the rehab and you said, James, did you quit using crack cocaine because you ignored the 12 steps and came up with your own crude treatment strategy based on the principle of "Hold On", I'd say not exactly.
Not exactly.
No.
I never smoked crack cocaine.
Never.
Smoked.
It.
But I did do a lot of blow.
Which is the same thing.
And now I don't do it anymore.
Blow.
Ever.
But crack always scared me.
Never did it.
It sounded scary and ghetto and it gave me a street credibility that I thought would make my story more shocking. But no I never actually used it.
But I did quit blow.
And you'd say, speaking of crack, did you really fall in love with a Beautiful Crack Whore named Lilly while you were inside the clinic, and did she really kill herself the day you got out of prison? Which I'm guessing she didn't because you never actually. Went. To. Prison. Right?
I'd say, have you ever heard of a metaphor?
Wiseass.
A Metaphor.
A symbol.
When you set out to write the best book of your generation you use things like those. Metaphors. Look it up.
And I'd say, Halle Berry was a crack whore in that one movie with Wesley Snipes.
And she's beautiful.
Halle Berry.
Even as a crack whore.
So there you go.
And you might roll your eyes and say, What the fuck does that mean?
And I'd say metaphor.
Look it up.
And then maybe you'd say, Throughout the book, your temper flares up whenever you are confronted by authority. You come across like a real Tough Guy. I'm guessing that's all Bullshit, too?
Not Bullshit, I'd say. Artistic License.
Then I'd ask You, Did you ever find yourself in a situation where you're challenged and your blood starts to simmer and you want to Fight Back and instead you just say OK and do what you're told?
And then a minute or two goes by and then a day and then a week but your blood is still hot and your face is still flushed and you think of a hundred things you wish you would have said if you were strong enough or smart enough or quick enough or brave enough?
Me too, I'd say.
So every time in the book that I get in someone's face or fight someone or throw someone against a wall it's not really what I did but what I wish I did.
The emotional truth.
Of what I Did.
The essential truth.
Of what I Did.
And you'd ask me more questions.
About Leonard.
Not exactly real, I'd say.
Miles, the judge?
Nope. Uh-uh.
Composites, I'd say. Look it up.
And we'd go through the whole book page by page if that's what you wanted. If you were a Hater and a Doubter that's what we'd do.
Page.
By Page.
And you'd say lies.
Lies and lies and lies.
Lies.
And I'd tell you that I won't dignify that with a response but that the emotional truth is there.
It's here.
Here.
I am an Alcoholic and a Drug Addict and a Criminal.
Thank you for buying my Book.
-James Frey
New York City
January 2006
***
Speaking of amateur addiction cures, I eat an insane amount of junk food and it's killing me. So I've finally come up with something that might work. It's as basic as could be, and I'm sure a billion people have already thought of it and tried it, but up their ass. Every time I crave a specific piece of junk food, I will refer to my homemade chart and find its non-junk food alternative. Then I shall eat the NJFA and feel the healthiness course through my veins. I'm just getting started, but here's what such a chart might look like:
Feel free to submit your own suggestions and help Hans Bungle on his way to sveltehood. Ten kwachas for whoever can come up with the best NJFA for a Chipwich.
| Junk Food | Non-Junk Food Alternative |
| Runt | Banana |
| Cheese | Tofu |
| Pringle | Carrot |
Feel free to submit your own suggestions and help Hans Bungle on his way to sveltehood. Ten kwachas for whoever can come up with the best NJFA for a Chipwich.
posted by hans q. bungle at 03:05
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