Letter: Ultimate Blame

Jack Neely notes in the May 3 Secret History ["Suttree in the 21st Century"] that a recent edition of Cormac McCarthy's Suttree shows cover art of a wheat field. Now, that is dumb, but it ain't the fault of the pore ol' artist. It's a given that all artists are lazy, no-good nincompoop beatnik kooks—who don't like to read much—and cain't be held to account fer messups. The real culprit here is the editor—the fat, drunk shithead wearing a loud bespittled plaid suit sprawled behind a crap-heap desk in a stinking pig-pen corner office who hired the idjit prevert artist in the first place dirt cheap and has final approval. If I was Cormac McCarthy, I'd stomp on down to that damn book factory and whup that guy's ice and git me some payback. So, as Mister Neely well knows, don't go blamin' a damn woodpecker for that sticky round hole in that watermelon. And next time, try a purty pitcher of Knoxvull Kudzu on that book cover, editor.

Ole Joe Don Tom Bob Acree


P.S.: Hats off to Coury Turczyn, editor, for the April 26 Splash Panel, "Forever Moebius." This artist was no slouch and will be missed. R.I.P.