Harry Potter is the Devil's fiction

Look in my crystal ball. Now touch it. Yeah, that's the spot. Oooh, Momma like!

Stop the goddamn presses. J.K. Rowling has something to say:

"There is only one thing that annoys me about living in Edinburgh - well, two, but I'm pretty much resigned to the weather now. Why is it so difficult to buy paper in the middle of town? What is a writer who likes to write longhand supposed to do when she hits her stride and then realizes, to her horror, that she has covered every bit of blank paper in her bag? Forty-five minutes it took me, this morning, to find somewhere that would sell me some normal, lined paper. And there's a university here! What do the students use? Don't tell me laptops, it makes me feel like something out of the eighteenth century."

OK, Jackass. That whole writing longhand thing is acceptable ... if you're Amish. That whole statement, which can be found on her Web site (www.jkrowling.com), reaks of, what's the word? ... Pomposity! I hate when I'm talking to a writer and they tell me they write longhand. What do you expect me to say? "Wow, Stupid Writer, that's admirable." Fucking dumbass. Save yourself and your freaky little readers some time and use a goddamn laptop. You know, if something I do "makes me feel like something out of the eighteenth century," I'll probably stop fuckin' doin' it.

Am I the only one that finds J.K. Rowling just a little bit creepy? No, a lot creepy. The first time I saw her, I thought she was pretty attractive in a hey-Brian-can-I-stay-at-your-house-tonight-to-see-your-mom-in-her-underwear kind of way. Not anymore. She just gets on my nerves.

"But, Spencer, look how many kids she got to pick up a book and read." I don't care. It's not like it's great writing or anything that's thought provoking. I mean, I can't expect 10-year-old kids to read William Faulkner, I know. But goddamn, what's wrong with the classics like The Chronicles of Narnia? C.S. Lewis was perfect for me when I was a kid. Those books were enough to spark my imagination, yet not so overbearing in my mind that I became estranged from societal values and norms.

I'm glad I don't go to school with those Harry Potter kids anymore. I'm afraid I'd have to bring out the paintball gun again. (Yes, I am an emotion-deprived, hateful bastard. So what. Bitch.)