E. L. James, the shitty author of the series of “erotic” novels Fifty Shades of Grey, is now giving lessons on writing. These books have sold millions of copies to bored middle-aged women in the suburbs so they can flick their beans their husbands have long since left to wither on the vine. James has created a journal and course to teach other wannabe hacks the art of writing even crappier books. What does that mean? That you can expect more of the same. Have you flipped through Fifty Shades of Grey? Next time you are in a bookstore pick it up and flip to any page. Here’s a random passage:
“Let me ask you something first. Do you want a regular
vanilla relationship with no kinky fuckery at all?”
My mouth drops open. “Kinky fuckery?” I squeak.
“I can’t believe you said that.”
“Well, I did. Answer me,” he says calmly.
I flush. My inner goddess is down on bended knee with her hands clasped in supplication begging me.
“I like your kinky fuckery,” I whisper.
Fuck me that sucks.
Here is the great ex-Alfac duck himself, Gilbert Gottfried, reading from this POS.