Author/playwright Goldman spent the 1967-68 Broadway season getting mad. At the garish camp-following of a Garland at the Palace; at the phoney, loud-mouthed ""ad libs"" of a double-billed. Buddy Hackett and Eddie Fisher; at the fact that a George C. Scott couldn't communicate with a Burl Ives and had to leave the show he was directing; at a ""critic's darling"" like Sandy Dennis; at the haste-making of homosexuals; at tawdry musical blockbusters, corrupt ticket agencies, big bad boy producers and first and foremost and above all--critics--""putrescent."" ""I think Clive Barnes is the most dangerous, the most crippling critic in modern Broadway history and I only hope he is dispensed with before these words reach print."" Brendan Gill is ""really beyond belief"" and they are all ""failures in life."" Mr. Goldman backs his exaggerated views with some undeniably strong examples of abysmal reviewing, He is also on and behind the scenes, interviewing, listening to the audience, for-aging for vital statistics, It's a Herculean hodgepodge trampling on the toes of the magnificent invalid, which for his Season, should have stood in bed.