Eggers On The Brink

I sent my treatise of despair to Mr Eggers and got an immediate reply! Unfortunately it was an automated reply:

"Hello!
Thanks for writing to this address. I set up this new email account about three weeks ago to answer what I thought would be a handful of messages from attendees at a recent Author’s Guild event. Since then, this address has become far more public, and the volume of mail sent to this address has been a bit too much to handle. So as not to imply that this is a frequently checked address, we’re closing this email address down. But if you have questions about the upcoming issue of McSweeney’s (that which will be in the form of a newspaper) email Jesse Nathan at _________. If you want to send a message to me, best to send it to Michelle Quint at __________ (I’m a slow emailer so she’ll make sure I get back to you promptly). If you have questions about 826 National, write to Ryan Lewis at ___________. And if you’re in the mood to send anything on paper, our address is 826 Valencia, San Francisco, CA 94110.
Thanks again for writing,
Dave "

So what I feared has come to pass. The outpourings of horror, fear, self-loathing and doubt from the literary commonwealth have pushed Dave to the very edge. Poor lamb. I picture him lying, spent, on his therapist's couch, a print-Pangloss overwhelmed by electronic letters of DOOM.

(I took out all the email addresses cos I don't want to be responsible for some evil spambot blocking the collective McSweeney's/826National inboxes with messages about how you can "Gaive youur waife all the esex eshe ne-eds and desreves"... If you want them - the email addies, not the esex you desreve - well, email me)