Tuesday, May 29, 2018

The Good Liar by Catherine McKenzie

This book helped me realize an important life lesson. That is, Stop Taking Books from Lending Libraries! I mean, Jesus. Why would someone put a book in a lending library? Because it's their favorite book, only they no longer have space for books because of all their kids' participation trophies? No, because it's crap, that's why. Everyone puts up these adorable little birdhouse like things in front of their houses, and just like birds, we flitter by and take whatever is offered. But it's really just a way to get rid of crap no one wants without feeling bad about filling up a landfill. If someone put their moldy leftovers in that stupid box, I guarantee people would eat it. Well I ate this leftover, and it gave me indigestion. If I start listing the reasons, I will hear it from my daughter, who thinks my reviews are "too negative in tone." But let me just give this spoiler - in this identity mystery, a woman is disguising herself by changing her name from Katelyn to Kate. I shit you not.

Friday, May 25, 2018

No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy

My son-in-law gave me this book, and when I asked him what it was about, he said it was about a drug deal gone bad and a hit man chasing people down. Sounded alright. And you know what, it was a great book. But for pete's sake, if you think this book was about Llewelyn and Chigurh, then you are an idiot or a young person, and frankly, there's not much difference. This book is about the old sheriff!! Jesus. And it is about having a way of life that is getting left behind by society, and that is something I can relate to. All this facebook and reality TV and thinking that everything is about you. It just wasn't like that before. And guess what, everything is not about you! So go back and read it again, and this time start thinking about Ed Tom Bell, and maybe you'll learn something about life.

Wednesday, May 23, 2018

Sing Unburied Sing by Jesmyn Ward

Now this is some hard shit. I remember when my grandson Jackson was two, he wandered away from me in a store. I was so pissed at that little fucker. My therapist thinks I was mad at myself, but what does she know? It was objectively his fault - it is literally impossible to try on a belt and hold a toddler at the same time. Anyway, it took me about 6 minutes to find him, and I have never felt such dread in my whole life. Now I don't know what this woman has experienced in her life, but she knows how to write dread. I spent the whole time afraid of what terrible thing was coming next, and they kept on coming. I mean, if the poverty doesn't get you, then the racism and the meth will. And on top of it, all these people can talk to ghosts. And you won't be surprised that it's not the nice, Demi Moore, let me do pottery with you kind of ghosts, but more the hey, I died a terrible death and would like to haunt you with that kind of ghosts. They talk to animals too, and you know who else can do that? My granddaughter Tina! They say she has a gift. I say a gift would be if she came around here to talk to me some time instead of talking to animals, but what the fuck. Everyone wants things. This book actually made me feel like being a lonely old white guy isn't so bad. I still had to have two vodka gimlets instead of one when I finished though. I know this book is brilliant, but I think I might just be too old for this shit.

Tuesday, May 22, 2018

Going into Town by Roz Chast

When I was a kid, my Dad used to take me into the city just to walk around. It was better then, still full of people, but full of good people. Nowadays, don't get me started. Anyway, we would usually eat at a deli - not the same one every time, but someplace like the Carnegie Deli up on 7th Avenue. He would get pastrami, and I would get salami, and before we had our sandwiches, they would bring a big plate of pickles. These days, it costs you 4 dollars to get a plate of pickles, and they bring those newfangled ones that are practically just cucumbers, like they forgot to make the pickles and only had 20 minutes to brine them or something. Which is just typical for what New York has become, if you ask me. And one day, we're in there for lunch, and guess who walks through the door? Abraham fucking Beame, that's who. And guess what he orders. Egg salad! I shit you not. Anyway, this book is about New York, so it reminded me of all that shit.