Back in the misty, forgotten days of the 20th century, one of my first jobs after college was working at a literary agency. (I may have mentioned this before.) Not as an agent, but as a manuscript reader, in a part of the business known as the fee room. Altho the agency did have actual, famous clients (and actual agents who worked with them) they also had a cash cow, charging fees to unpublished writers for "professional" evaluations. While maybe not a total scam, it was pretty damn close. Basically just far enough this side of mail fraud that you couldn't get prosecuted for it. As "professional evaluators" we were encouraged (or possibly required -- see opening sentence about "misty, forgotten days") to read 'scripts as quickly as possible and then type out (IBM Selectrics, dude... this was pre word processor) what amount to customized form letters, rejecting the 'script in hand but offering enough vague hope that they send another 'script and more importantly another check. Needless to say, the clients were an assortment of the delusional, desperate, crackpot, and insane.

Anyway, I bring this all up by way of explaining the following remark:
this guy (found via Jason) is not just crazy, he's fee room crazy.