My Enemies' Enemy

I have four books by Frederick Crews just now checked out of the beautiful Hawaii State Library: Skeptical Engagements, Follies of the Wise, Postmodern Pooh, and The Critics Bear It Away. Instead of reading them, however, what I've been doing is googling the delicious quarrels that Crews has engaged in, and provoked, in Modern Arts and Letters.  Essentially (tiny pun) I have nothing to add.  What he said.  I don't even have to think any more about Freud--or Lacan, or Derrida, or Foucault.  Crews has done them all in, done them to a crisp, leaving their apologists saying wonderfully silly, desperate things--for all the world, with their hissing and cackling and shrieking--like a flock of pompous, know-nothing geese among whom a stick has been thrown.