By bats | August 8, 2011 - 10:04 am

I’ve consolidated a weeks’ worth of  Les the AUTHOR’s publishing struggles into one tidy package.  You know, whether spread out like a slick of diarrhea, or heaped into a single big, steaming pile, Les and his writing are just one giant turd.

I shouldn’t even waste my time with Batuikitksiak’s thinly-veiled wet dreams (or damp disappointments), as applied to Super-Writer Les Moore, but it’s kind of cathartic, and with the current storyline in Judge Parker winding down, Constance Darling, up-and-coming marketing director in need of a $250K salary, gotta eat!  If nothing else, I like seeing the further emasculation of Les…


This entry was posted on Monday, August 8th, 2011 at 10:04 AM and is filed under I Smell Something Funky, Miscarriage of Juggstice. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.

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