Sometimes, dear reader, I do things for you that no-one else would ever do. It’s what granddads are here for. A bullet flies through the window after you told the neighbor kid about his halitosis in front of his girlfriend, and who accidentally gets shot in the face? Grandpa Lou. You spill coffee on your dress right before your parole hearing, and who’s there to trade clothes with you even though you are a size 4 in women’s and now your extra-large pants are stitched together from mismatching carpet samples? Grandpa Lou. You could not care any less about Charlie Sheen, but you want to impress the morons that you see on a daily basis like your cross-eyed godnephew Michael, and who steps in and watches everything Charlie Sheen-related...
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New Fangled Old Stuff with Grandpa Lou
New Fangled Old Stuff With Grandpa Lou - Television
Wow, last week's edition of NFOSWGL was a bummer, huh? I gotta say, it's nice to be serious with yous, if even for a day, but now let me get back to my standard jackassery. I hope everyone is easing gently into fall. I'm sitting around in my own filth, staring out of the pretty window of my nice new apartment. That's right, I finally moved into a home with a window and a door and a ceiling, and nearly zero bugs (besides the ones I brought in with me, obviously). It's a nice feeling, after an entire year of floating around with nowhere to go. The window faces an assisted living facility, which sees an ambulance hastily pulling up roughly once every other day, and a middle-aged guy with no legs...
New Fangled Old Stuff With Grandpa Lou: 9/11 The Day The Party Died
I didn’t always used to be a dirty hobo. Ten years ago, I had a job as an obituary writer for the local paper, spending my days talking to funeral directors and grieving families. I was what they used to call “upwardly mobile” in that I had started as an entry level classified ad-taker and had hopes to move from obits to the police beat to movie reviews to an op-ed position, not knowing that no-one at that company gave a shit about obit writers, which is why we were part of the classified ad division to begin with. I got to work at 8 the morning of September 11, and on the way in, I was listening to a mixtape I had made with songs from at least five years prior (because even then, they didn’t make music like they used...
Pilot Season Part 2 - FOX's Steven Spielberg Produced terdfest Terra Nova
How about this weather huh? I'm sitting outside my refrigerator box, twisting my stabbin' knife back and forth as the late summer sunlight gleans off its crusty surface, very glad that the Midwest isn't suffering through any of the east coast's back-to-back miseries; first an earthquake, then a hurricane, or what the inevitable made-for-TV movie will label "Hearthiquane" In between squirrel hunts and subsequent squirrel and mayonnaise sandwich makings, I managed to watched Al Gore's "An Inconvient Truth" last week for the first time, and I gotta say, while it is good to know that both earthquakes AND hurricanes can be made more intense and frequent as a result of climate change...
Pilot Season - Zooey Deschanel, The New Girl
It's strange how summer has left us so quickly. I remember taking a bath in Lake Michigan just a few weeks ago, loofah in hand, scrubby bubbles in a basket next to me; a hermetically sealed bottle of Old Granddad Bourbon floating in a bag tethered to my leg with a piece of twine. "Who needs a home when you got a lake this nice and the sun is still out at 9PM?" I said to the elderly woman floating past. She nodded politely, then looked at my junk and swam away shouting something or other and now I have to go to the beach up the street like a jerk. Just like that, fall is bringing in cool temps and fresh breezes, which really helps keep my smelliness down to a manageable level.
For a reason that is possibly deep-seated and psychologically troubling, fall always gives me anxiety. I...
