Michael Crichton, jurassic prick
WASHINGTON DIARIST
Cock and Bull
by Michael Crowley
Post date 12.14.06 | Issue date 12.25.06
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Email this article. E-mail this articleThere is an obscure publishing doctrine known as “the small penis rule.” As described in a 1998 New York Times article, it is a sly trick employed by authors who have defamed someone to discourage their targets from filing lawsuits. As libel lawyer Leon Friedman explained to the Times, “No male is going to come forward and say, ‘That character with a very small penis, ‘That’s me!’” This gimmick was undoubtedly on the mind of Michael Crichton, the pulp science-fiction writer of Jurassic Park fame, when he wrote the following passage in his latest novel, Next. (Caution: Graphic imagery. Kids, ask for permission before reading on):
Alex Burnet was in the middle of the most difficult trial of her career, a rape case involving the sexual assault of a two-year-old boy in Malibu. The defendant, thirty-year-old Mick Crowley, was a Washington-based political columnist who was visiting his sister-in-law when he experienced an overwhelming urge to have anal sex with her young son, still in diapers. Crowley was a wealthy, spoiled Yale graduate and heir to a pharmaceutical fortune. …
It turned out Crowley’s taste in love objects was well known in Washington, but [his lawyer]–as was his custom–tried the case vigorously in the press months before the trial, repeatedly characterizing Alex and the child’s mother as “fantasizing feminist fundamentalists” who had made up the whole thing from “their sick, twisted imaginations.” This, despite a well-documented hospital examination of the child. (Crowley’s penis was small, but he had still caused significant tears to the toddler’s rectum.)
The next page contains fleeting references to Crowley as a “weasel” and a “dickhead,” and, later, “that political reporter who likes little boys.” But that’s it–Crowley comes and goes without affecting the plot. He is not a character so much as a voodoo doll. Knowing that Crichton had used prior books to attack very real-seeming people, I was suspicious. Who was this Mick Crowley? A Google search turned up an Irish Workers Party politician in Knocknaheeny, Ireland. But Crowley’s tireless advocacy for County Cork’s disabled seemed to make him an unlikely target of Crichton’s ire. And that’s when it dawned on me: I happen to be a Washington political journalist. And, yes, I did attend Yale University. And, come to think of it, I had recently written a critical 3,700-word cover story about Crichton. In lieu of a letter to the editor, Crichton had fictionalized me as a child rapist. And, perhaps worse, falsely branded me a pharmaceutical-industry profiteer.
Probably just me, but I found this funny as hell. Turnabouts fair play, and all.
UPDATE: In case you’re wondering why Crichton might think Crowley is a little prick, here’s a link to the hatchet job Crowley did on him.
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Nah, it’s not just you Bill. I found it chuckle worthy as well.
In fact, his article provided sorely needed justification for my continuing my subscription to TNR!
I too find it funny but IMO there is an ugliness to it that splashes back on Crichton.
Actually, I wasn’t going to comment until
sank in.
Crowley writes, oh so hip and ironic, that inheriting pharmaceutical stock could be worse than being a child rapist.
I wasn’t clear. I like and respect Crichton, who I think is smart and talented. People like him get the equivalent of drive-bys from little pricks like Crowley all the time. Mostly, they get away with it, hiding safe and secure behind the ersatz power of their reviewer positions. But Crichton is so successful he doesn’t need to fear the Crowleys of the world, and so he takes a delicious revenge.
What I found hilarious was the wounded screeching from Crowley himself, that Crichton would dare smack him around like that. If you read Crowley’s original hatchet job, this is PKB to the max. Crichton obviously hit home hard. Crowley obviously hasn’t learned caution, however, so I’m hoping for an even bigger strike if Crichton chooses to return fire again.
What Crowley really hates about Crichton is that Crichton is obviously smarter and more successful than he is, and, worse, he doesn’t buy the whacko ecological ideologies that are articles of faith among those Crowley regards as his “class.”
Crowley is really hollering “apostate,” and, worse, “Mommy, the apostate kicked my worthless little ass.”
Or prick.
Not for me. If you can’t take it, don’t dish it out. I admire Crichton for his writing ability. I admire him even more for giving a damn about the junk “science” being foisted on the less scientifically educated. He writes fiction and is an advocate for truth.
I like him even more for getting even.