I go into hiding for a few weeks and there’s comments on my post! Sorry to those who were sweet enough to stop and say hi… I’ll be much more doting as a blogger in the weeks to come, I swear!

On to today’s brief topic: Diablo Cody is my hero. And it has nothing to do with her writing (which I think is good). From her MySpace blog: (somewhat NSFW after jump)

I am not Charlie Kaufman or Sofia Coppola (much as I supplicate at their Cannes-weary feet.) I’m not Paul Thomas Anderson. I’m not even Paul W.S. Anderson. I am middle-class trash from the Midwest. I’m a competent nonfiction writer, an admittedly green screenwriter, and a product of Hollywood, USA. I am “Diablo Cody” and if you’re not a fan, go rent Prospero’s Books again and leave me the fuck alone.

I may have won 19 awards that you don’t feel I earned, but it’s neither original nor relevant to slag on Juno. Really. And you’re not some bold, singular voice of dissent, You are exactly like everyone else in your zeitgeisty-demo-lifestyle pod. You are even like me. (I, too, loved Arrested Development! Aren’t we a pretty pair of cultural mavericks? Hey, let’s go bitch about how Black Kids are overrated!)

I’m sorry that while you were shooting your failed opus at Tisch, I was jamming toxic silicon toys up my ass for money. I get why you’re bitter. I took exactly one film class in college and– with the curious exception of the Douglas Sirk unit—it bored the shit out of me. I also once got busted for loudly crinkling a bag of Jujubes during a classroom screening of Vivre Sa Vie. I don’t deserve to be here. We’ve established that. But I’m here. Five million 12-year-olds think I’m Buck Henry. Accept it.

(Incidentally, if you were me for one day you’d crumble like fucking Stilton. I am better at this than you. You’re not strong enough, Film_Fan78. Trust me.)

I’m sorry to all those violent, semi-literate fanboys who hate me for befriending their heroes. I can’t help it if your favorite writer, actor, director, or talk show host likes me. Maybe you would too, if we actually met.

I know my name is fake and that it annoys you. What, do you hate Queen Latifah and Rip Torn, too? Writers and entertainers have been using pseudonyms for years. Chances are, you’re spewing bile under an assumed screen name yourself. I’m sorry if you think I’m like some inked-up quasi-Suicide Girl derby cunt from 2002, but I like my fake name. It’s engraved on an Oscar. Yours isn’t.

While I’m a little hurt by her jab at Tisch (hey, some of us like academics! for fun!), I definitely love her general sentiment: stop being judgemental to the level of cut-throat. I think this is something I see on a micro level in writing groups, classrooms, and indie productions. People pounce on those they personally dislike or who they feel have gotten too much credit too soon instead of encourage the amazing potential a writer might show. I’ve been lucky enough to be supported by most of the people around me, but I’ve seen writers who I may not like personally but respect professionally get pushed aside because their peers find something to hate on.

So: yay, Diablo! You are one BAMF.