Robert Fulford, critic emeritus: Please attack me viciously in your next column

An open letter to Robert Fulford, culture critic emeritus, Toronto, Canada.

Dear Robert Fulford,

I am an obscure writer from Newmarket, Ontario. We have at different times crossed paths, but yours has always been the lucky and achieving way. I have watched your rise while at the Toronto Star, and certainly well before. And your recognition! Migod, you have more honorary degrees and published material than I today at my age have grey hairs.

Robert Fulford, I have asked favours of you before, but you were alsways sort of hard to light when it came to being a torch bearer for the likes of an upstart graduate of a technical university once jokingly called "Ryerson Pyromanical Institute", now a full blown institute of higher learning.
I do have a smugness about my alma mater. I at least earned my degree legitimately, but you got yours on sheer brilliance and writing ability, for which I, of course, hate you.

Robert Fulford, I would like to ask a favour of you.

In your next column of the National Post, will you attack me viciously as a bad writer, a fraud and a mountebank, hardly worth any ink at all?

I will certainly not sue.
An attack by an important critic is no small thing. Such attacks, say, in the New York Times, have, more often than not, led obscure writers like me to best-sellerdom.

Mr. Fulford, what have you got to lose?
Call me a pischer, call me a schmuck, but don't call me ignored.

Yours sincerely

Ivan Prokopchuk, B.A.A. (legitimately earned).