Yo, Death, get your bony skeleto-hands off my favorite writers!
What about a Wall street exec? Maybe you want to impale Paris Hilton? Or stick a big fat cancer rod up Tupegolvich’s ass. There are so many more deserving of the bony little tap of your index finger. How ‘bout Augusten Burroughs and his douchey little audience that funds him.
Do you think your little essay speculating on Updike’s death is funny now, douchey, douche?
I guess what I’m trying to say is, Updike is forever immortal, and Burroughs can die already.