Introduction

Karl Wenclas has once again disallowed comments on his blog, the personal fiefdom of the Lord High Protector of stapled & photocopied writing on why trucks crossing the Detroit/Windsor border is interesting and Rick Moody sucks.

It's always the same old shit with his highness, Wenclas. Contrary opinions are always deemed "anonymous hate" because no one who thinks the ULA is full of shit could possibly be who they say they are. That's an easy way to pretend you have no opposition, or that all of your opposition is being controlled by MFA-holding members of a conspiracy.

Me? Well, I'm Tim Hall, apparently. An entire "completely ULA unrelated" blog was dedicated to that subject. Why? On what evidence? Because Wenclas can't believe someone named Bryan Guski could exist while (a.) not work for Rick Moody or (b.) not be a disgruntled former member who had to inhale your old man mothball breath for too long. The truth is anyone dumb enough to join the ULA for as much as four seconds doesn't hold much of my respect, which would include that guy.

The joke is this. The evidence of my Tim Hall identity was that I knew of specific details of Karl Wenclas's New Criterion back-'n-forth hissy fit from awhile back, and no one but Hall knew of it. Check this out, oh master of the new literary revolution: Go to Google. Type in Wenclas New Criterion. Check out results THREE and FOUR. There for any member of the public to see.
The future, my friends, who leads an ONLINE literary revolution, doesn't know how the fucking internet works. Priceless.

My biggest objections to their existence are twofold. (a.) They can't write. Check it out, if you must. Don't worry, the prodigious kings of literature never update.

Let's just look at Karl's blog, for starters. Regardless of what I think of him at the end of the day, an actual writer might be a little, I dunno, quick? Witty? Have a way with words? (Note: the ULA actually doesn't believe any of these things are relevant. As long as you're old, angry, and own a pen, you're what writing is supposed to be about. Asking for something interesting or demonstrating talent is being elitist, after all.)

Their sad, tired usage of "Miller Genuine Draft" "Not So Swift" "Bryan Gurski/Gluski/Guussky" as cutting insults are, well, just pathetic. You can't think of anything more clever, "Future of Literature"(tm) (c)(r)? If cleverness isn't your gig, how about just refraining from the most middle school version of wordplay I've ever run across from an adult (over 75)?

My other objection is their hypocrisy. They hate predictable, stuffy, boring mainstream lit. And you now, as you always have, masturbate over any attention paid to you by mainstream media outlets, institutions or people.

The way Karl namedrops has always been sickening...everything is irrelevant until they mention him. Then, all of a sudden, "you know, hip New Yorkers always check out Time Out to see what's going on." JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. If they refrained to mention you or run an article, then they'd be irrelevant again (note: in this case, you would have been right. Fucking TIME OUT NEW YORK?!?!?).

Paris Review, New Criterion, Gawker, WNYC, MediaBistro...it's all the fucking same with you, Wenclas. Why don't you just admit you want to be a mainstream fucking celebrity? And, as your writing is infrequent and terrible, you dream of being famous for no reason about as much as a 14 year old girl.

I've never met another underground writer...or even an "overground" one who spent so much time obsessing over so-called "literary fossils," Gucci wearing publishers, or trust-fund introverts like Rick Moody. You just want to be them, I guess. Otherwise, who gives a shit? It's not like oil companies competing for business...you pick one, or you pick the other...Rick Moody's readers would never be yours anyway, because they actually like him, so who gives a shit? I realize the "stronger than it's ever been" ULA still has no readers (or writers, for that matter), but that's probably your problem. I left my ULA watching/commenting almost a year ago, after only doing it for about a month, about 3 or 4 weeks before they first disallowed commenting from anyone who didn't like them, those brave revolutionaries. At that time, they were going nowhere, with no writers, no progress, and one show in a Philly dive bar's basement. Since then, it's been exactly the same (minus any shows of course, and a few writers who've dropped out). Now, they have another big event that, of course, no one will ever give a shit about. They'll stand with placards at Columbia, a few people will gawk confusedly, and then forget them completely, forever and always. Hooray.

If these people and institutions suck so badly (and many of them actually do) why are they redeemed by uttering "Karl Wenclas exists"? All of a sudden, not only are they relevant, but "y'know, Time Out New York is where New Yorkers in the know find out about what's culturally important."

You are so full of shit. Now it's the point where he would call me something like Fryan Musty. You know, to demonstrate your writing skills and your razor-sharp wit (I know wit is borgeois, I'm sorry). Perhaps you could grace us with another stream-of-consciousness run-on sentence? Those are pretty new in literature, you know, and you always supply such nice ones.
With love, as always.