SlapClap

Hey thanks William T. Vollmann. Thanks for the Chapter 10 “An Essay on Bail” you plopped down in the middle of a 780 page work of fiction. I thought someone glued pages from Jurist Magazine into my book when I wasn’t looking. Oh wait, these pages are bound! You sadist. I’ve been chewing on this odyssey of yours for three months. Three months of reading about Dan Smooth the creep, and the Queen’s magic saliva, but before those denouements I’ve got to navigate this chapter of non-fiction about America’s bail system and the San Francisco hookers you “researched.” Be smart on your own time Vollmann.

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Animal motivational speaking isn’t as stress free as the Phoenix University training exercises would have you believe. As I’ve begun making the rounds as a junior consultant for Hearst’s corporate A.M.S. division its been harder and harder to do relaxing things like go to the movies with my seven nephews Buck, Otis, Rick, Wayman, A.C., Stacey, and Cadillac. I’m sure post-punk auteur Paul Banks would say I oughta try to “rest my chemistry.” Take advantage of some down time.

Like today lunchtime at the office everyone got so excited about this naked guy who fell asleep in his apartment bedroom across the street from us. My co-workers kept saying I should come take a look so when the crowd hit a crescendo because the naked guy rolled over on his side I paused my virtual bobcat team-building webinar to go see. So glad I did. It reminded me of those old bits they used to do on the Letterman show when they would point a camera at unsuspecting office workers across the street, except that the office was where somebody lived, and that somebody didn’t have any clothes on, and he wasn’t unsuspecting. Actually after he saw us he got really confident. He seemed pretty happy about it- pretty gross actually. I wish I hadn’t seen that.

So thaaaaaanks William S. Burroughs. You did it again.