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| THE INIMITABLE PAUL SPIELER |
| HIS NO-LIFE & NO-WORK |
| Born in an oil drum on the east side of St. Louis, when Twain and Eliot were done and Elkin and Gass were in their prime, at a visceral time in our nation's history when what was brooding on all of our minds were gas-price hikes, union strikes, gay and lesbian rights, disco's death throes, Ronald Reagan's B-movie partiotic speeches, Three's Company, and Blondie, the inimitable Paul Spieler, armed only with a to-do list for his ouevre, came to the world to brighten our darker days and cast a pall on our brighter ones. Ladies and gentleman, hermaphrodites and transvestites . . . I give you, in all his splendid radiance and ineffable charm, Mr. Paul "One Story is Enough to Get into the Canon, You Know" Spieler. |
| "What to say I will write next, what to say I will be known for, think, think, think! Aha! That's it! Eureka! I'll say I am going to write the great American space-alien invasion slash softcore gay-porn novel! Brilliant! Brilliant, I say! With this I'll make Pynchon blush!" |
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| Mr. Spieler demonstrating his self-devised technique of inducing an opening in his third eye: first, he laughs at his own jokes, then, during the climax of these self-reflexive, narcissistic gut-laughs, he squints his beedy little eyes shut such that any further vision is possible only by prying open his other eye. It helps, too, Mr. Spieler notes, that you have typed out a page or two of something actually published, more brilliant and brimming with more talent than you could ever dream of possessing yourself. (This time he chose a selection from John Grisham's immortal novel, "The Firm.") |
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| "You know, Josh, vulgarity is only an illusion, created and sustained by societal constraints." |
| "Oh I'm sorry, Paul, were you saying something?" |
| More Spieler info coming soon!!! |