Satire lies about literary men while they live and eulogy lies about them when they die. [Fr., La satire ment sur les gens de lettres pendant leur vie, et l'eloge ment apres leur mort.]
You can't make up anything anymore. The world itself is a satire. All you're doing is recording it.
No one delights more in vengeance than a woman. Juvenal, Satires, XIII.