If that tosser Ian Graye can trash Infinite Jest in so unseemly a fashion then all I can say is....IJ : choose your weapons, fatso.2666: Fuck man, what is this, the 14th century?IJ : I didn’t organise this, I don’t make the rules2666: what’s going on here anyway? We were both written by dead guys and now they have cruelly pitted us against each other for the tacky reality-tv-WWF-style pleasure of this muesli-slurping self-congratulatory wiseacre goodreads crowd. Look at them all, ugh, doesn't the bile rise at the site of 'em.Crowd person: muesli! Slurp! Oh your reviews are divine2nd crowd person : oh so are yours, mwwaaa mwaaIJ: we are in the super heavyweight class, I note. The Sumo wrestlers of literary pomism.2666: fuck I am hammered. Do you know how much how much how much er how much I have had to drink?IJ: it sounds like gallons. You are in no fit state. Referee? This book can’t fight.Referee?2666: there is no referee. The very idea is antique. This is the post post post er post so post that modernity is just a dot on the far horizon you know man you know what I mean god the things I’ve seenIJ : I know all about it, I read you years ago but I found part four a real struggle2666 : well you talk about struggle you have more notes than Tchaikovsky on a florid dayIJ : I went to florid day once, it was so fucking hot. Miami.2666: my what?IJ: Ami.2666: did you go to see the dolphinsIJ : yeah I saw the dolphins, isn’t that what everyone does2666: I just saw heaps of bodies of people that had been cruelly cruelly post murderedIJ: post murdered? Is that a thing?2666 : what?IJ : what?2666: you’re my best mateIJ : we rule you know. Who can compare to us mighty and difficult novels? We are the best. (addressing the crowd) You fuckers had better realise that2666: yes or you might end up in Part FourIJ : ha ha, good one2666: let’s get out of this fucking placeIJ : I’ll buy you a drink if you can stand it2666 : fuckThe two giant novels lumber over the ropes of the ring and out into the world of bars, reviewers and the blinding sunshine of cruelty. The crowd tries to mask its disappointment with more muesli.