This book is supposed to be about how snarky assholes are ruining everything (as a matter of fact, I am proud of myself, thanks), but instead it's just an excuse for the guy who wrote it to prove what an egotistical, out-of-touch hack he is. First off, he's mainly complaining about the Internet, so why does he start off by quoting super pretentious crap like ancient Greek poets who are so obscure that even ancient Greek people barely knew who they were? Oh, right, because he wants make sure we all know how goddamned smart he [thinks he] is. After all, like the cover of this piece of crap reminds us, he is the author of Great Books. You know, I'll bet he came up with that title just so he could introduce himself to people as "David Denby, author of Great Books". What an epic douchebag.

Besides basking in his own golden shower of imagined greatness, this guy also spends time ragging on George Bush Jr. (proving that he truly has his finger on the pulse of five years before this book was written) and, in one part, nearly has a heart attack because some magazine made fun of the Beatles once. "At what point is spoof no longer naughty and just out of it?" he says. You still have your head shoved up the ass of a shitty pop band that broke up before my last girlfriend's parents were born and you're accusing someone else of being out of it? Denby, you couldn't be more out of it if you were on your way to a "talkie" in an airbrushed van while doing the Charleston to your Flock of Seagulls 8-track. The world passed you by for a reason, asshole. It's time to die now.