Droopy renaissance man Zach Braff wrote a new play called All New People that's currently running off-Broadway, and New York Magazine's theater critic Scott Brown really did not like it. His review was scathing, but hilariously so! Everyone loved it! Well, almost everyone. Braff's friend, Scrubs and Cougar Town guru Bill Lawrence, is not happy about it at all.

Lawrence recently wrote an email to Brown in response to the harsh review, because Zach Braff is his friend and he likes Zach Braff and Scott Brown was just being a meany-pants. A selection of said email follows.

You hate Zach Braff. You hated him before you saw his play. You say it in your first line. Is it fair, then, that you evaluate his new work? Let's say I hate cherries. I hate the taste, plus a girl named Cherry broke my heart and, I don't know, killed my pet turtle by feeding it too many - you guessed it - cherries. Should I be the one to tell everyone how your Mom's homemade cherry crumble tastes? What am I supposed to do, Scott? May I call you Scott? I can't talk about how much I liked Zach's play. I know and love him; I'd be too biased. See the irony there? My only option, then, is to indulge every bitter writer's fantasy. I'm going to review your review. Scott Brown's latest work opens with an Ally McBeal reference, a joke that hasn't been fresh for a solid twenty years. It then descends into a kind of silent dog whistle that only pretentious tool bags can hear: "hubristically deliberate bid … for the Exhausted Aughts … emo simulacrum of actual feeling." Scott, do you wear a monocle? Mr. Brown also manages to accuse Zach of deliberately and arrogantly trying to be the voice of his generation with Garden State, a movie Zach wrote when he was 23. I'm pretty sure he was just trying to get laid. You should try it, Scott. It might loosen you up.

Yiiiikes. A little of the ol' "you don't get laid" joke! Works every time. That's been true since the ninth grade.

Anyway, Lawrence was just defending a friend, whatever, that's fine. Brown wrote a jokey little response that you can read here (along with the entirety of Lawrence's missive). Writers being mad at writers, blah blah. What I'm really intrigued about, and what isn't addressed by New York, is whether or not Lawrence invented a theater writer named Tristine Skyler and used that pen name to write a review of the play for the Huffington Post. Because damn.

[Photo via Getty]