Shit is going down in the world, people. Shit is going down. There are so many worthwhile headlines to discuss that I can’t keep them straight. Let me see if I can break it down for you:
Iran is in shambles. The people want freedom! And what do they get? 16 men with beards sitting around a conference table talking about God’s will and how Ahmadinejad won that election fair and square, especially if fair and square means we totally cheated and rigged that shit. …

As I mentioned last time we did this, many people stumble upon this site via Google and that fact alone is one of my favorite things about having a website – access to search terms.  People need answers and sometimes, instead of answers, they get to come visit me and hear about my dad’s heart, my cat shitting on my pillow and a whole lot of bitching and moaning about how my lovely wife will not get off me, already.  PLEASE GET OFF ME.  I know that when you’re looking …

“I will participate in the demonstrations tomorrow. Maybe they will turn violent. Maybe I will be one of the people who is going to get killed. I’m listening to all my favorite music. I even want to dance to a few songs. I always wanted to have very narrow eyebrows. Yes, maybe I will go to the salon before I go tomorrow! There are a few great movie scenes that I also have to see. I should drop by the library, too. …

Several years ago, way back when I was in college for the first time, a class of mine went to participate in a round table discussion with David Foster Wallace. He was spending some time on campus terrorizing young writers with his particular brand of arrogance and whatever else. I know he’s dead, but even to this day I can’t separate him from that experience, when I found him to be such an assholey asshole. Sometimes writers take themselves far too seriously. This was, after spending …

I spend every Wednesday night at my parents house having dinner and trying to keep my dad from lifting things he’s not allowed to, like that pillow top mattress and that refrigerator.  I bring Gus along to distract him because there’s nothing to help you forget about dragging trunks of old ephemera from the attic like an eight pound dog with a giant caterpillar dangling from his lips.
After dinner this past Wednesday, my mom and I left my dad and Gus to bond over whatever boys bond over, probably scars, …