Novelist. Editor. Journalist. Business Writer.
If you’re the sort who comes to Word O’ repeatedly to see what kind of wisdom I’m dropping, I’m sorry. You obviously should find something more enriching to do with your life.
Ha! See what I did there? I made fun of the few people who read this blog. Which is a dickish thing to do.
Continue reading “Sorry for the Lack of Posting”
As the cast of Jersey Shore heads to Italy, some people are complaining about their representation of Italians and Italian-Americans. One New York TV critic said that while there they’ll just be seen as boorish Americans rather than representatives of anything.
One thing these people all seem to be ignoring: Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi. This guy INVENTED the smush room — and he’s the leader of the country.
“Inception” got nominated for best picture? Boy, some people are lucky they expanded the category to 10. I’d say no way that would have been nominated in another year, but you never know with these clowns.
But hey, maybe “Best Picture” means good acting, cool fight scenes, lots of noise … and a movie that doesn’t make a fucking bit of sense — except to people who like to claim superiority by saying it made perfect sense. “Inception” is like faith. You either have it or you don’t — and the “logic” used by the faithful is equivalent to the logic used by those trying to square the Book Genesis with evolutionary science. So save your breath, “Inception” defenders. Talk till you’re blue in the face, wave your pamphlets around, try to drag me back into the temple to blow another two, three, four hours (how long was that movie anyway?) of my life.
To which I say: “Go sell crazy someplace else, we’re all stocked up here.”
What should win? I don’t know. The only other movie I saw was “Toy Story 3.” Loved it, but don’t think it has a shot. I say “The King’s English” or “The Fighter.”
Friend, former coworker and soon-to-be on your cookbook shelves Lisa Fain has a new recipe up on her blog The Homesick Texan. It’s a Cajun recipe. You all know how I feel about non-Cajuns trying their hand at these things, but Lisa is has proven herself worthy. I trust her.
But she’s just blown my mind. What did she just make in her New York City apartment? No, not gumbo or jambalaya or any such thing. You know what? I’m not even going to tell you. Go to her blog right now and just look. I mean, seriously. That’s not even something I would try to do.
Mississippi Winn, whose parents were likely born slaves, died in Louisiana yesterday.
When she turned 113, Mississippi Winn could still stand up on her own and never thought her age was a detriment to her life.
The upbeat former domestic worker from Shreveport, known in the city as “Sweetie,” died Friday afternoon at Magnolia Manor Nursing Home, said Milton Carroll, an investigator with the Caddo Parish Coroner’s Office. He said he could not release her cause of death.
Winn was believed to be the oldest living African-American in the U.S. and the seventh-oldest living person in the world, said Robert Young of the Gerontology Research Group, which verifies information for Guinness World Records.
Anyone who’s read The First Annual Grand Prairie Rabbit Festival will obviously be put in mind of Miss Rita. But I had no idea Mississippi Winn was actually alive. Weird. In other such weirdness, there was apparently a priest with the last name of Sibille in the town of Ville Platte who left the church to get married.
When I saw this New York Post cover this morning, I thought, “That’s hilarious. No way can that be topped.”
Then the Boston Metro did this. Rex Ryan just got served. Continue reading “Funny Newspapers Are Funny”
After years of writing, something I’ve written has finally been compared to the Bible and Milan Kundera. I can’t tell you how proud I am.
How many Australians does it take to shoot video of a flash flood washing away cars?
Live in New York City and still find yourself with a needle-shedding tree in your apartment? Can’t dispose of it the right way because you don’t have a fireplace in which to shove it and set it ablaze standing up? Too timid to chuck it out your window to see what happens? Don’t have enough fireworks to blow it up? Your pet beaver just doesn’t like the taste of pine?
Continue reading “How to Dispose of Your Christmas Tree”
As I’ve been making my way through Mark Twain’s autobiography, I’ve been continually put in mind of something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Something about the style. What you should know about the autobiography is that Twain didn’t write it–he dictated it, in rambling fashion. Some people, like grouchy-pants and obviously envious Garrison Keillor, hate this. (Keillor might not be Twain’s equal in novel-writing, but the two have this in common: They love the sounds of their own voices and when they get going on politics it can sometimes verge into the sort of rant that would do Bill O’Reilly proud).
Continue reading “Is the Twain Autobiography the First Blog?”
KEN WHEATON 