As it turns out, one does not need to be able to write well to be a bestselling author. Sure, you can list a number of other people who have found themselves on the New York Times bestseller list who aren’t the most astonishing of literary talents — but none are quite as remarkably bad as Snooki, who recently landed at #24.
Listen — it’s not that I don’t love Snooki, or that I begrudge her her success. In fact, if anything, this makes me feel better about my chances of one day ending up on the very same list. But it does make me wonder if that actually means anything at this point. Snooki wrote about farts on the dance floor.
Farts. On the dance floor.
Ah well. It’s not for me to judge what sells and what doesn’t. More power to you, Snooki. See you again at 10pm tonight.