Dear James, you brokedick scribbler,

I have known way too many people who were way too far gone to have much empathy for you in the midst of this fracas. Any fool can try to build himself up with self-dramatizing lies and exaggeration. You managed to defraud a lot of earnest readers and move a lot of books in the process.

Any asshole can be an addict... but you have to be a REAL asshole to lie about what an asshole addict you were. I'm sad that you aspired to more degradation than you even achieved, and I'm sad that you made a mint passing off your bullshit fantasies as FACTS.

Couldn't all the broken hearts have been avoided if you and your publisher had not called this a memoir? Indeed, some things in life are essentially true without being factual - but a lie is still a lie, and when you say something happened when it didn't? That's a lie.

James Frey, inauthentic author, you lack integrity. Yesterday, your galling stunts were such an affront to me that I would have gladly tapped you on the head with a skillet, but having written out my grievances, I feel better now.

Most sincerely,
Kelly C.

* Send letters for James to jamesfreyowesmemoney@gmail.com.