Michael Crichton owns liberal
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Global Warming Denier Michael Crichton Fictionalizes Critic as Child Rapist By Paul Kiel - December 14, 2006, 11:45 AM
The battle between anti-global warming activists and their critics is frequently uncivil. Name calling, put downs, you name it, they fling them.
But this marks a new threshold, I think.
This March, Michael Crowley wrote a cover story (sub. req.) in The New Republic hitting blockbuster novelist Michael Crichton's very public denials that global warming was a proved phenomenon.
That was the last he'd heard from Crichton until he picked his latest novel, Next. Here's what he found:
"Alex Burnet was in the middle of the most difficult trial of her career, a rape case involving the sexual assault of a two-year-old boy in Malibu. The defendant, thirty-year-old Mick Crowley, was a Washington-based political columnist who was visiting his sister-in-law when he experienced an overwhelming urge to have anal sex with her young son, still in diapers. Crowley was a wealthy, spoiled Yale graduate and heir to a pharmaceutical fortune. ...
It turned out Crowley's taste in love objects was well known in Washington, but [his lawyer]--as was his custom--tried the case vigorously in the press months before the trial, repeatedly characterizing Alex and the child's mother as "fantasizing feminist fundamentalists" who had made up the whole thing from "their sick, twisted imaginations." This, despite a well-documented hospital examination of the child. (Crowley's penis was small, but he had still caused significant tears to the toddler's rectum.) "
In an article posted to the New Republic's Web site today, Crowley responded:
The next page contains fleeting references to Crowley as a "weasel" and a "dickhead," and, later, "that political reporter who likes little boys." But that's it--Crowley comes and goes without affecting the plot. He is not a character so much as a voodoo doll. Knowing that Crichton had used prior books to attack very real-seeming people, I was suspicious. Who was this Mick Crowley? A Google search turned up an Irish Workers Party politician in Knocknaheeny, Ireland. But Crowley's tireless advocacy for County Cork's disabled seemed to make him an unlikely target of Crichton's ire. And that's when it dawned on me: I happen to be a Washington political journalist. And, yes, I did attend Yale University. And, come to think of it, I had recently written a critical 3,700-word cover story about Crichton. In lieu of a letter to the editor, Crichton had fictionalized me as a child rapist. And, perhaps worse, falsely branded me a pharmaceutical-industry profiteer.
The battle between anti-global warming activists and their critics is frequently uncivil. Name calling, put downs, you name it, they fling them.
But this marks a new threshold, I think.
This March, Michael Crowley wrote a cover story (sub. req.) in The New Republic hitting blockbuster novelist Michael Crichton's very public denials that global warming was a proved phenomenon.
That was the last he'd heard from Crichton until he picked his latest novel, Next. Here's what he found:
"Alex Burnet was in the middle of the most difficult trial of her career, a rape case involving the sexual assault of a two-year-old boy in Malibu. The defendant, thirty-year-old Mick Crowley, was a Washington-based political columnist who was visiting his sister-in-law when he experienced an overwhelming urge to have anal sex with her young son, still in diapers. Crowley was a wealthy, spoiled Yale graduate and heir to a pharmaceutical fortune. ...
It turned out Crowley's taste in love objects was well known in Washington, but [his lawyer]--as was his custom--tried the case vigorously in the press months before the trial, repeatedly characterizing Alex and the child's mother as "fantasizing feminist fundamentalists" who had made up the whole thing from "their sick, twisted imaginations." This, despite a well-documented hospital examination of the child. (Crowley's penis was small, but he had still caused significant tears to the toddler's rectum.) "
In an article posted to the New Republic's Web site today, Crowley responded:
The next page contains fleeting references to Crowley as a "weasel" and a "dickhead," and, later, "that political reporter who likes little boys." But that's it--Crowley comes and goes without affecting the plot. He is not a character so much as a voodoo doll. Knowing that Crichton had used prior books to attack very real-seeming people, I was suspicious. Who was this Mick Crowley? A Google search turned up an Irish Workers Party politician in Knocknaheeny, Ireland. But Crowley's tireless advocacy for County Cork's disabled seemed to make him an unlikely target of Crichton's ire. And that's when it dawned on me: I happen to be a Washington political journalist. And, yes, I did attend Yale University. And, come to think of it, I had recently written a critical 3,700-word cover story about Crichton. In lieu of a letter to the editor, Crichton had fictionalized me as a child rapist. And, perhaps worse, falsely branded me a pharmaceutical-industry profiteer.
America...the greatest Country in the world.
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Anyway, what's wrong with it?
"What I lack in decorum, I make up for with an absence of tact."
Camden 5-28-06
Washington, D.C. 6-22-08
See above.
doesn't feel that way right now. That's the hopeful
idea . . . Hope didn't get much applause . . .
Hope! Hope is the underdog!"
-- EV, Live at the Showbox
What this guy did was wrong, but it's a total non-story. You don't see people here posting shit everytime Rush Limbaugh or Ann Cunt-ler calls liberals "baby killers". There's crazies on both sides, it best to ignore them and hope they go away
http://www.reverbnation.com/brianzilm
by Michael Crowley
Post date 12.14.06 | Issue date 12.25.06 Discuss this article (80)
There is an obscure publishing doctrine known as "the small penis rule." As described in a 1998 New York Times article, it is a sly trick employed by authors who have defamed someone to discourage their targets from filing lawsuits. As libel lawyer Leon Friedman explained to the Times, "No male is going to come forward and say, 'That character with a very small penis, 'That's me!'" This gimmick was undoubtedly on the mind of Michael Crichton, the pulp science-fiction writer of Jurassic Park fame, when he wrote the following passage in his latest novel, Next. (Caution: Graphic imagery. Kids, ask for permission before reading on):
Alex Burnet was in the middle of the most difficult trial of her career, a rape case involving the sexual assault of a two-year-old boy in Malibu. The defendant, thirty-year-old Mick Crowley, was a Washington-based political columnist who was visiting his sister-in-law when he experienced an overwhelming urge to have anal sex with her young son, still in diapers. Crowley was a wealthy, spoiled Yale graduate and heir to a pharmaceutical fortune. ...
It turned out Crowley's taste in love objects was well known in Washington, but [his lawyer]--as was his custom--tried the case vigorously in the press months before the trial, repeatedly characterizing Alex and the child's mother as "fantasizing feminist fundamentalists" who had made up the whole thing from "their sick, twisted imaginations." This, despite a well-documented hospital examination of the child. (Crowley's penis was small, but he had still caused significant tears to the toddler's rectum.)
The next page contains fleeting references to Crowley as a "weasel" and a "dickhead," and, later, "that political reporter who likes little boys." But that's it--Crowley comes and goes without affecting the plot. He is not a character so much as a voodoo doll. Knowing that Crichton had used prior books to attack very real-seeming people, I was suspicious. Who was this Mick Crowley? A Google search turned up an Irish Workers Party politician in Knocknaheeny, Ireland. But Crowley's tireless advocacy for County Cork's disabled seemed to make him an unlikely target of Crichton's ire. And that's when it dawned on me: I happen to be a Washington political journalist. And, yes, I did attend Yale University. And, come to think of it, I had recently written a critical 3,700-word cover story about Crichton. In lieu of a letter to the editor, Crichton had fictionalized me as a child rapist. And, perhaps worse, falsely branded me a pharmaceutical-industry profiteer.
The road to this literary hit-and-run began back in March, when I wrote an article about Crichton pegged to his 2004 best-seller, State of Fear. The 624-page thriller presented global warming theory as the work of a fiendish cabal of liberal environmentalists, celebrities, journalists, academics, and politicians. Crichton's populist disdain for these "experts" dovetailed neatly, I argued, with the Bush administration's antiintellectual streak--and it was the reason that Karl Rove had invited Crichton for a chat with George W. Bush at the Oval Office and a right-wing senator had asked him to testify before his committee. Crichton discussed his White House visit with me, and our talk was friendly--though Crichton was clearly nervous about being linked to Bush. How ironic, then, that he wound up responding to my critique with a move worthy of Rove's playbook.
Indeed, much like a crude political operative, Crichton savages his cultural villains with sadistic glee. In Jurassic Park, a sleazy lawyer is consumed by a t-Rex while sitting on the toilet. State of Fear prominently featured a fatuous Hollywood liberal, remarkably similar to Martin Sheen, who winds up consumed by cannibals. But, despite his generally worshipful treatment in the press, Crichton loathes no creature like the journalist. His 1996 novel, Airframe, ostensibly about aviation disasters, was in fact a diatribe about the news media's cynicism and stupidity. Next, meanwhile, is peppered with sneering jibes at The New York Times. It's a strange crusade for the son of a journalist.
Thus far, no one seems to have publicly drawn the connection between Mick Crowley and Michael Crowley. In her November 28 review of Next, the Times's Janet Maslin nearly did, noting the presence of some oddly mean-spirited caricatures--including, as Maslin put it, "a Washington political columnist and spoiled heir who turns out to have raped a 2-year-old." But, while Maslin generously called these characters "ham-handed," she didn't make the link. Others have, including a friend who called breathlessly from New York. When I accused him of a prank, he replied, "How could I possibly make that up?" True, I thought. My friend was not nearly demented enough.
I confess to having mixed feelings about my sliver of literary immortality. It's impossible not to be grossed out on some level--particularly by the creepy image of the smoldering Crichton, alone in his darkened study, imagining in pornographic detail the rape of a small child. It's uplifting, however, to learn that Next's sales have proved disappointing by Crichton's standards, continuing what an industry newsletter dubs Crichton's "recent pattern of erosion." And I'm looking forward to the choice Crichton will have to make, when asked about the basis for Mick Crowley, between a comically dishonest denial and a confession of his shocking depravity.
Crichton launched his noxious attack from behind the shield of the small penis rule because, I'm sure, he's embarrassed by what he has done. In researching my article, I found a man who has long yearned for intellectual stature beyond the realm of killer dinosaurs and talking monkeys. And Crichton must know that turning a critic into a poorly endowed child rapist won't exactly aid his cause. Ultimately, then, I find myself strangely flattered. To explain why, let me propose a corollary to the small penis rule. Call it the small man rule: If someone offers substantive criticism of an author, and the author responds by hitting below the belt, as it were, then he's conceding that the critic has won.
Michael Crowley is a senior editor at The New Republic.
It is no doubt a childish act. Still, I did chuckle a little.
Non stories are posted on the Mt all the time.
deep is a small little magazine written to a small fan club. it's more like a convo between friends. you can't even buy it in the public square.
this book is a nationally published novel that anyone, anywhere can pick up. that's called libel. and it's just in poor taste. if crichton wanted to write a letter to his fan club portraying the guy as a child rapist, id think it was probly stupid, maybe amusing, but harmless. but choosing to slog it out in public in this manner is just low and cheap and shows he doesn't have the wherewithal to actually debate his views. it's the act of a petty child. if he wanted to take public shots at the guy, he ought to have done it like a man.
Yes because we all know Michael Crichton isnt a harvard graduate and probaly couldnt comprehend a debating dialogue.
Imo this is just funny..to see this liberal get Pwned the way he did.
As a liberal I would not be eating up any shit about someone being a child-rapist with "tears to his anus" whether it be from this idiot Crichton or Ed.
"The leads are weak? Fuckin' leads are weak? You're Weak! I've Been in this business 15 years"
"What's your name?"
"FUCK YOU! THAT"S MY NAME!"
i have no clue where he went to school, nor do i care. this liberal didnt get "pwned" (what a stupid fucking word). if you kicked the shit out of somebody in a fight and then walked away and they hit you in the back of the head with a brick from 50 feet away, did they "win" the fight? i dont think so. crichton acted like a fucking pussy and i have no respect for him anymore. if he was a real man, he'd have said that shit to the guy's face, or said it in an interview instead of trying to pass it off as fiction so he can deny it later. he's a little bitch. which is probly why your punk ass likes it so much. probly the only way you'd ever have a shot at winning an "intellectual" debate too. for that matter, a brick to the back of the head is probly the only way you'd ever win a fight too.
Did the writer say it to Crichtons face? o no he printed it in a magazine.
Lol @ you slandering me.......just like crichton right?
Although it wasn't me who "slandered" you I still feel that someone fights dirty is far better than being a child rapist. I could still respect you if you fought dirty, however sick fucks that are child rapists need to be taken care of.
"The leads are weak? Fuckin' leads are weak? You're Weak! I've Been in this business 15 years"
"What's your name?"
"FUCK YOU! THAT"S MY NAME!"
Wow check out Tony Tuffstuff here, you sound like a real killer.
slander is spoken. libel is in print. so no, i did not slander you.
and it's only libel if it's false. thus, what i said was not libel.
yeah, kinda like your "hero" michael crichton.
and, by the way, someone needs to write an essay on Slander vs. Libel...there are elements to each, check it out.
people that plead the global warming case are funny to me. there is so much on either side that who knows what's going on. it's obvious that we need to conserve, it just makes sense, but to keep flying this global warming flag is a bit ridiculous. i've said it before, i don't know if it's a factual phenomenon or not...but, there is no need to be wasteful.
from my window to yours
outside of some minor points about gene ownership, the book was not very good.