Snowball’s Chance by John Reed. When the book came out, I related. I had the spirit to make a few insurrections—went to a Christopher Hitchens right-wing diatribe and corrected him from the audience when he talked about  me. At my readings I drank more than usual and encouraged my audience to drink more, and to contribute animal  sounds. I gave out rubber animal noses. (Oh, I wrote Snowball’s Chance just after 9/11: Snowball returns to Animal Farm, brings capitalism.) Then nine years went by, and, uh, I looked at the book again; a tenth anniversary reprint was in the works. I called James Sherry, the original publisher. The prose melted when I tried to read it. The thing was nonsensical.

“James,” I asked, “I don’t understand anything in here, what does that mean?”

“It means,” said James, “you wrote it.”

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Credit: www.publishingperspectives.com