Hey, you fucking motherfuckers! I am Jeff Fucking VanderMeer, a certifiable fucking genius and fucking wildly arrogant fuckface who shits on anyone who doesn’t suck my fucking cock! Oh fucking yeah, you fucking bitches! In fucking fact, I’m such a fucking tough guy (or at least I fucking think I am in my fucking head; I’m a gym rat, you fucks!) that I fucking compensate for my fucking lack of fucking talent by fucking using the fucking word fuck a fucking lot in the third fucking part of my latest fucking book. Oh fucking yeah!
Fuck you if you fucking can’t fucking handle it!
I am Jeff Fucking Motherfucking Fuckerfucking VanderMeer, you fucking bitches! Lick my fucking asshole. I fucking know you fucking will. Because I’ve fucking gotten a fucking fuckadoodle fuck my giddy fucking aunt fair fucking pass for so fucking long. But fucking now, you’re finally starting to fucking grasp that I am the greatest fucking pain in the motherfucking ass to my motherfucking editors, who won’t fucking talk because I gamed social fucking media and created a fucking army of MAGA-like lemmings to fucking hang on to my every fucking word. And they fucking like it! Because I am fucking Jeff Fucking VanderMeer, Fucking Genius. Oh fucking shit! Am I a fucking failure because even the fucking Goodreads crowd constantly fucking rates my motherfucking books very fucking low? (3.38 for fucking Annihilation, which is supposed to be my fucking classic? 3.25 for Hummingbird Salamander, which nobody fucking read? 3.22 for A Peculiar Peril?) Oh my fucking god! My fucking non-Southern Fucking Reach novels ain’t fucking selling. Ain’t fucking rating! So I better fucking write a fucking new one and bamboozle the ever living fuck out of all these stupid fucks who I have fucking conned. Oh fucking yeah!
I was so fucking happy when Abigail Fucking Nussbaum rimmed my motherfucking ass in The Guardian. Oh fucking yeah! I mean, she fucking used the fucking word Nabokovian! When all I fucking did was randomly insert the fucking word “fuck” into the third fucking part. And well, you fucking know, it’s so fucking difficult for a Fucking Literary Genius like fucking me to fucking write in any vaguely fucking coherent way. But, hey, Fucking Abigail, I fucking appreciate the fawning ass munch!
I hope you won’t fucking mind if I fucking quote from my motherfucking novel, because I fucking am, at the end of the motherfucking day, a Fucking Literary Genius!
Shit. It smelled so good and nary a fucking small woodland creature he’d manage to bag, even since free of the Southern Reach’s fucked-up policy on the matter. A good broth on a winter’s day. The way the broth would bubble with those golden bubbles, each one on the surface breaking open to add to a salivating scent.
Did you fucking see what I fucking did there? You fucking see? I dropped a “nary” to make my fucking hackery sound a little fucking literary. And you all fucking bought it! And if I drop an “ever since free,” you’ll fucking believe that all of these fucking gratuitous fucks I fucking drop are actually fucking intentional. When, you fucking know, I’m just pulling all this out of my stinky nearing-IBS fucking asshole! And if I fucking repeat myself with the fucking “bubbles,” the greater solipsism and complete lack of fucking craft in my shit-flavored fucking prose won’t be fucking exposed, amirite?
But even fucking before all this “fuck” business, I was fucking conning you motherfuckers the entire fucking time!
It irked the locals who liked birding to be in pursuit of a rare vermillion flycatcher, only to gaze through binoculars … at what turned out to be a biologist wearing a red bandana, staring back through her own binoculars.
You see, I’ve edited so many fucking anthologies that I fucking know that if you drop a ten fucking cent word like “vermillion” (Gene Fucking Wolfe move, motherfuckers! but without the fucking craft!) and I fucking mindlessly repeat the fucking phrasing like fucking “binoculars” — well, fucking then, motherfucker, I’m certainly fucking going to continuing fucking conning you motherfuckers while fucking laughing my fucking way to the fucking midlist fucking bank!
In fucking fact, I am so fucking secure in my Motherfucking Literary Genius that I can fucking boast like a fucking teenybopper signing on for a fucking record label that my fucking willful catastrophe has gone into a third fucking printing.
In fucking short, I fucking cheated you. You probably didn’t fucking read my horseshit. But that’s fucking okay. Because I’m a Fucking Literary Genius who has gone into a third fucking printing, simply because I had the fucking wisdom to pad out the fucking word count of my fucking shitty novel with the word “fuck.”
Fuck me! You fucking books people are so fucking easy to fucking fool!
[12/28/24 UPDATE: A few readers who thought this little satirical piece was hilarious have pointed out that Jeff VanderMeer has won awards. And they are completely right. He did win the Nebula for Annihilation, proving that even a middling scumbag can win the rodeo if he angles his Stetson the right way. Thus, I have revised this slightly in the interest of accuracy.]