I realize that Liz Phair has, recently, been subjected to some pretty nasty criticism over her new album. A few weeks ago, Meghan O’Rourke wrote a piece in the New York Times claiming that Phair had “committed an embarassing form of career suicide” with her new attempt to transform herself into a pop princess — as in the rock-chick-moue pose above.

Anyway, Phair went completely batshit about the review and wrote a letter to the New York Times that is just spectacularly unhinged. It’s online here, but in part:

Once upon a time there was a writer named Chicken Little. Chicken Little worked very hard and took her job very seriously. Often, she even wrote. One day, just as Chicken Little was about to have an idea, she heard something falling on her roof. “The sky is falling! The sky is falling!” she shrieked, spilling green tea and vodka all over her work station. This commotion awoke her three readers, who lived with her in her hut, and all three rushed outside to see what had happened to the sky. After enduring several anxious minutes alone, Chicken Little was relieved to see her readers return. “Oh, Chicken Little, it was just the trees dropping their buds on a beautiful spring day,” they said. Chicken Little tried not to show her disappointment.

It actually gets weirder than that. Read the whole thing.