Screw You, Michael Eric Dyson

Okay, I am so conceited that I spend a bazillion dollars a frigging year just to have a place where I can read my own posts so I know a little bit about the subject of arrogance.  I also write fan fiction about TV shows and stuff and put myself in them (Detective Acadia, SVU.  Pleased to meet you, Olivia). I also consider myself more famous than Freddie Prinze, Jr. and I base that on the fact that he was in that Scooby Doo movie and I wasn’t.

But, I am no Michael Eric Dyson.  This author and Georgetown sociology professor has his own show called the Michael Dyson Show.  And that by itself is not bad.  Plenty of people name their shows after themselves.  He even has awards on his show named after himself.  And I can get over that.  But.

But.

But.

The name of his book up there is (emphasis mine) is: Can You Hear Me Now?  The Inspiration, Wisdom and Insight of Michael Eric Dyson. Now, even after seeing the cover of the book, I hoped that perhaps it was a joke.  Maybe when I looked at the beginning, he was going to say something like: “Okay, now that I have your attention with my ridiculously pretentious and arrogant book title, let me share some humble thoughts that I think might be something you would like to read.”

But nope.  He just included a bunch of shit he said.  Like, I don’t know if I can explain it right.  It’s not really a BOOK.  It’s like Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey but not funny (at least not on purpose).  He says like a paragraph, then has a straight line, then another couple paragraphs and another straight line.  Like this:

Something something

_________

In the adjectival way we measure racial progress, Obama is not a black president, but a black president.

_________

Something something

That’s not a book.  One of his chapters is one sentence.  And the sentence is not: “My mother is a fish.”  Thus it can’t be a real book.  Now, the sentence itself may be right.  Every frigging word in the book may be right.  That’s not the point.  The point is that you do NOT call yourself inspirational, wise and insightful in your own book.  You also don’t include four different pictures of yourself on the cover.  And you certainly don’t watch old tapes of yourself on Tavis Smiley, Hardball and Charlie fucking Rose, write down shit you said separated by little lines, and call it a fucking book!

So after the jump, I’ve decided to publish my own book.  Cover and excerpt after the jump.

Something something

_________

In order to determine how stealthy I was, I attempted to rub one out under the cape thing while getting a haircut.  My conclusion was that I am not stealthy at all, followed quickly by, “This hairdresser is wayyyy too uptight.”

_________

Something something

You best be buying my book.  I have a part between two lines where I explain about this huge dump I took and how the dump was a metaphor for all the stuff I had eaten that morning.  Or maybe it was a simile.  Did I say it was “like” or “as” all the stuff I had eaten that morning?  BUY THE BOOK AND FIND OUT!