Brooklyn-Based Author Obsessed With Hating Elizabeth Wurtzel

Last night I finally got around to Elizabeth Wurtzel’s personal essay in this week’s issue of New York. I saw on Monday, while driving a U-Haul with a friend from the East Coast to Chicago, that it ran online and people—at least on Twitter—were talking about it, mostly in a negative way. I haven’t read much of Wurtzel beyond her first memoir, Prozac Nation, and she fell off my radar, perhaps on purpose. So I read it a day later, which feels like weeks in Internet Time, out loud to my boyfriend, just a few feet from Wurtzel’s other books, Bitch and More, Now, Again, which sit on his bookshelf. Both of us liked it quite a bit.

I tweeted my reaction to the essay, mostly to joke about how "finally reading the Elizabeth Wurtzel piece" one day after it is published is inherently (and hilariously) ridiculous, and I received one response from someone I don’t know:

I didn’t respond because I don’t know what the hell that means. But then I looked at this guy’s Twitter and found that a great deal of his tweets are about Elizabeth Wurtzel. To wit:

And so on! The weirdest thing is that this dude (who, perhaps unsurprisingly, is a Brooklyn-based writer with a Kindle single readily available for purchase) takes his obsession with hating Elizabeth Wurtzel (and by the way, EVERYONE, don’t you sometimes get bored picking such low-hanging fruit? Isn’t there a less popular, very smart woman you can shit upon?) to a level that borders on laziness, as he just copies and pastes the same nonsensical digs on Wurtzel and directs them to anyone on Twitter who mentions her name. (And yes, there are over a dozen or so more tweets not embeded above.)

Isn’t it fun how Twitter allows us, perhaps even more so than well-written personal essays, to take a glimpse into the madness of other human beings?

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