<![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him - Gawker Comments]]> <![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him - Gawker Comments]]> <![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him]]> @Barker: Yes.

Balk

]]> <![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him]]> Continuing my self-obliterating quest for execution by commenting on a post a day late (that's like, what, 90 days in Gawker years?) and referencing a subject that is both distasteful and so very January 2007: Eric Schaeffer. But while I'm as happy as the next guy to see a successful author from my generation get a Grade-A beatdown, isn't saying that Chuck Klosterman hates the Internet because Chuck Klosterman is the internet akin to Schaeffer saying that Gawker hates Eric Schaeffer because Gawker is Eric Schaeffer?

Fred Allen

]]> <![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him]]> If Mr. Klosterman questions my commitment to hating him, he is welcome to come over to my house and let me demonstrate it in person.

I believe a spirited tongue-lashing followed by a vigorous beating about the head and shoulders with the "Cham-Creeky" volume of the Oxford English Dictionary (the curmudgeon's favorite for douche-bashing) may convince him that I really, really, really hate him. A lot.

And if there is a scintilla of doubt left in the bloated pus sac he so lovingly calls is "mind", a fusillade of ass-kicking from the size-9.5 Pluvius stillettos on his way out the door will no doubt dispell it.

This would not give me as much pleasure as the dream I have mentioned here before (strangling Neal Pollack with Ned Vizzini's intestines, then bludgeoning Klosterman to death with Pollack's bloody skull--note the Biblical resonance of slaying a Goliath of self-importance with the jawbone of an unmitigated ass), but I think it would help me maintain. A methadone for murder, if you will.

JupiterPluvius

]]> <![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him]]> @citizen_shame:

My bad - I misremembered the passage, but I dug it up and it's even MORE douchey than my faulty memory allowed:

"I knock on the apartment door. No answer. I knock again. Again, no answer. This is strange, because I know for certain that somebody is in there. While outside, I saw a pudgy white arm ashing a cigarette out of the window. Granted, I don't really have a plan here. I'm not exactly sure what I should ask this person if and when he or she opens the door. But I feel like I should at least see the inside of this apartment (or something), so I keep knocking. And knocking. I knock for ten minutes. No one ever comes out. I try to peep into the window where I witnessed "the cigarette incident," but now the shade is down, and I'm starting to feel like a stalker. I decide to walk away, having learned zero about a dead musician I knew practically nothing about to begin with."

DOUCHE!

Clevertrousers

]]> <![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him]]> @Clevertrousers:
bob stinson died in his apartment that was located in a building that housed retail on the ground level. There was no porch for him to go [not] ring the bell. This is the best he could make up for his book?

minor, yes, but still, kinda douchey.

Mildred_Pierce

]]> <![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him]]> You know, I've always enjoyed Chuck Klosterman's books because they're funny. But I've never labored under the illusion that they were important. Evidently, Chucky Boy seems to have a wildly different view of his own product.

GorgeousGeorge

]]> <![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him]]> looks like that local abc affiliate just gets to copy off the mothership espn site. his blog is on espn.com's page 2.

billhelm

]]> <![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him]]> Yeah, because sports journalism is in desperate need of a Middle America nebbish whose mock sincerity tries to force you to believe that their mundane observations about middlebrow american life are anything but that.

And even if it did, I'd rather get it from that homophobe Garrison Keillor.

MikeyMelbournePDD

]]> <![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him]]> @oovy: OMG yes oovy, it's like the superior detached way that Dennis Miller deigns to report on sports.

josh speed

]]> <![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him]]> I'd really really like to see a half dozen Junior Samples lookalikes perform Poison's 'Open Up And Say. . .Ahh!' upon Chuck in the parking lot of a Waffle House off I-85 in Lithia Springs.

KarenUhOh

]]> <![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him]]> I can pinpoint my seething hatred of Chuck Klosterman to one passage in "KIlling Yourself to Live" (excerted in Spin, no WAY I was gonna buy THAT piece of shit). Klosterman goes to the house where Bob Stinson from the Replacements died, gets up to the front porch and pussies out on ringing the doorbell because he never really "got" the Replacements anyway. DOUCHE!!!

There. Now I admitted that I'm still emotionally invested in hating Chuck Klosterman AND that I read Spin. Let the banning commence.

Clevertrousers

]]> <![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him]]> I've never undsertood this guy's popularity. I read he was good so I bought some godawful thing called "Sex, Drugs and Popcorn." If that's the best thing his generation's writers are capable of we might as well convert the Library of Congress into a multiplex.

SecureLocation

]]> <![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him]]> I've never managed to process the fact that he now writes about sports. I guess he's like, "I'm so ironic, I'm Chuck Klosterman writing about sports."

Diglett

]]> <![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him]]> Naturally, Klosterchuck's blog begins with a rambling, pointless anecdote about himself. Being self-referential on a blog is sort of the whole point, but since Klosterman is one of the few who can get his self-aggrandizing navel-gazing musings published in real books and stuff, why is he even bothering with this? For the prestige?

J DTZR

]]> <![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him]]> Chuck needs a new career. He's no longer relevant in the literary world as a writer, maybe he could be a publisher or marketeer, but he doesn't add much to the written word anymore. I enjoyed his books, but hey, he's turning into John Cusack with his unoriginality.


FracturedAcetabulum

]]> <![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him]]> What's more lowbrow than a blog?

A sports blog? A Chuck Klosterman sports blog? A Chuck Klosterman sports blog for a fucking local ABC affiliate?

JackieTreehorn

]]> <![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him]]> I feel like a douchebag deconstructing douchebags for deconstructing a douchebag.

When are we going to start "building a mystery" again?

Fuck, I am just so detached I guess. So does this hipster irony combined with emotional investment make Klosterman the literary equivalent of Lilith Fair?

He already the glasses for it.

WhatsforAndHeretofor

]]> <![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him]]> Even back in his wide-eyed bloaty days, he was painfully full of himself. Just after his hire at SPIN, another young female music journalist and I joined him for a friendly drink at a conference, and he quickly launched into questioning us about how we lost our virginity. Then he kept bragging about how he got a job at SPIN without knowing anything about music. I was grossed out and left quickly. Next thing you know, I find myself characterized in his piece for Esquire as a "mildly attractive" music-journalist groupie. Picking on a 22-year-old indy weekly intern cause she wasn't impressed with your "eighty thousand dollar salary, car and apartment"? Or because she knew her shit and you didn't? Turd!

There, bile spewed, Upchuck Klusterfuck. Thanks, internet!

LuluBird

]]> <![CDATA[Chuck Klosterman Questions Your Emotional Commitment To Hating Him]]> I never knew those pix of Nicole Richie's rib cage were unauthorized! I appreciate them so much more now!

Miss Tia

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