Who is this woman screaming at me in print? Oh. It’s only Joyce Carol Oates.

In her new piece of fiction in The New Yorker  Joyce Carol Oates really spews froth. It’s not that the short story is bad, it is terrible. Why is it terrible? Well if her sub-par dialogue, no sense of place and boring flashbacks weren’t enough it is because JCO is just a plain terrible writer. I said [...]

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Final Round

        As he hit the stool, his vision swam in and out of focus. The muscles in his neck barely kept his head erect; the rest of his muscles had gone numb from the burning. He could feel the slimy vaseline being pressed into the cuts in his face with the coarse and unforgiving thumbs [...]

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