Note: So that news story about the feral pig getting drunk and fighting a cow? Anyway, I wrote this way back in 1997 or 1998, based on a post-card writing assignment given to me by Luis Alberto Urrea.
Me and Bobby had our annual meeting last night up by the south bank of the lake. It was a good night for a meeting. Oh, me and Bobby meet every night, just to shoot the shit and what not. But last night was the Official Meeting.
We both belong to the International Society of Freaks of Nature — ISOFON for short. And the local chapters meet at least once a year. We’re the only two freaks in the area and we’ve never met any of the other guys, but it’s nice to feel like part of something. I think that’s very important, to be part of something. I remember this scraggly yellow dog tried to join up once. Called himself O’Brien and the only thing freakish about him was his extraordinary use of foul language and his obsession with sex (from what I hear he couldn’t get it up). Well, me and Bobby decided not to let him join. Found out recently that he got shot while on the prowl. Kinda feel guilty about that. Wonder if it would have happened if we’da let him join.
What with all the Michael Bloomberg retrospectives going on, I feel like I haven’t been invited to the party. And I wrote an entire novel based on his legacy! Well, the food legacy at any rate. And who doesn’t want to talk about food and politics (and sex and crime)? Hell, even Fran Lebowitz jumps on the soda thing in her Times interview.
Anyway, since I never talk about myself or my writing here, I figured I’d give another free taste of Bacon and Egg Man. (Okay, fine, every other post I’m talking about my writing, but since I’m averaging about one post every two months these days …).
This is Chapter 18. Setup? You don’t need no stinking setup. Interestingly, Bloomberg isn’t even mentioned below. But his shadow, it is long. Bacon and Egg Man can be purchased in print or e-book here, here and elsewhere.
You might want to check the Sochi Mascot House. (You know, if you’re really dedicated to your bigotry.)
Are you a U.S. citizen? Does the phrase “Royal Baby” send shivers of excitement down our spine? What is wrong with you?
All Americans who show excessive interest in the birth of a royal baby shall be tarred, feathered and marched to the town commons and placed in the stocks. There they will be pelted with apple pie and hot-dogs while a down-on-her-luck pop diva mangles the Star Spangled Banner for three hours straight.
Is your dog naked? Running around the house with all its naughty bits on display like some heathen? Well, we can change that.
Would you like your dog to look smart in a tuxedo, sexy in a swanky dress or spirited in your favorite team’s colors? Then you’re in luck.
As part of my fundraising efforts for Team in Training, I’m raffling off two (2) customized dog outfits from Syludu. You can get a sampling of the goods here. Of course, if you’re the lucky winner, you can simply pick one of those dresses. But you can also pick your own color combinations or themes — like a lime-green tuxedo, perhaps a TNT-purple dress or even a jersey or dress with your favorite football team (yes, even if you are the misguided sort who roots for the Alabama Crimson Tide of the Dallas Cowboys).
Want to enter? Go here!
When I told folks that my son Nick and I were going to Texas to eat barbecue and nothing but barbecue, they thought I was joking. Some of them even went so far as to offer suggestions for non-barbecue food–like seafood and duck enchiladas (whatever those might be).
I was not joking. In fact, between pulling into Lockhart on a Tuesday afternoon Thursday at 1 p.m., we ate nothing but brisket and ribs, half a sausage, one piece of barbecue turkey and candy. Thursday at 1 p.m, we had tacos. Thursday evening, we went back to barbecue. We weren’t there to goof around.
Maybe baseball should require more animals on the field.