Hookers or Cake

Where the self-obsessed get serious about silly
I'm too wacky to be hip.

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      ------------------------------------ There was a large painting of Evel Knievel shaking hands with Richard Nixon. It hung in the Mayors office. Late one evening after everyone went home. I took it down to the lab. I zoomed in on Evel’s left eye a 100x and enhanced it. It was an address. I went to the address. It was a modest, 1970’s style, split level ranch home in the suburbs.

      ----------------------------------- Inside I found a dead parrot lying on a waterbed. I revived the parrot with some saltines and adrenaline. We became good friends. The parrots name was Randy. One night a few years later while Randy and me played Gin Rummy, he sang me a song about a fire. The title of this blog was never mentioned but I sensed it, and Randy confirmed it by giving me ‘THE LOOK’.

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          • May 26, 2010 10:45 am
            I finally read The Sun Also Rises. It was good. It wasn’t until someone asked me what it was about that I realized how good of a writer Hemingway was. For instance check out this passage.“We all had absinthe at the cafe, no one was drunk so we decided to have dinner. We ate lamb with a few bottles a wine and then fourteen more bottles for dessert. Hal showed up, fresh from the states. He had just finished his book so we soaked a cat in gin and ate it. Hal is a writer as is his wife Judy, whom I’ve slept with. I slept with Judy’s book too and it was lousy. The waiter came by and we dosed him with port and drank his blood. I was starting to feel a bit drunk so I went outside for some air. I waxed poetically about how fucking awesome Paris is for a paragraph. Then the blond that I was in love with waved at me from across the street. I nodded and she made her way towards me, fucking and drinking her way through the crowd. I had a few dozen whiskeys while I waited.”Thats the whole book. Just a bunch of Americans drinking their way through Paris & Spain. Passing around a drunk blond and waxing poetic about the scenery. But Hemingway could make eating a bowl of Cap’n Crunch sound epic.

            I finally read The Sun Also Rises. It was good. It wasn’t until someone asked me what it was about that I realized how good of a writer Hemingway was. For instance check out this passage.

            “We all had absinthe at the cafe, no one was drunk so we decided to have dinner. We ate lamb with a few bottles a wine and then fourteen more bottles for dessert. Hal showed up, fresh from the states. He had just finished his book so we soaked a cat in gin and ate it. Hal is a writer as is his wife Judy, whom I’ve slept with. I slept with Judy’s book too and it was lousy. The waiter came by and we dosed him with port and drank his blood. I was starting to feel a bit drunk so I went outside for some air. I waxed poetically about how fucking awesome Paris is for a paragraph. Then the blond that I was in love with waved at me from across the street. I nodded and she made her way towards me, fucking and drinking her way through the crowd. I had a few dozen whiskeys while I waited.”

            Thats the whole book. Just a bunch of Americans drinking their way through Paris & Spain. Passing around a drunk blond and waxing poetic about the scenery. But Hemingway could make eating a bowl of Cap’n Crunch sound epic.

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