HEY FUCKERS #26: ENOUGH TO MAKE A BIBLIOPHILE CRY

I just finished reading FINDING ATLANTIS by David King, which I highly recommend. It's the great true story of a man who thought he'd discovered Atlantis in Sweden. I loved the hell out of it even though I don't think he was right. (I don't think the author believed in this theory, either.) While reading this book, however, I came upon something that ripped my heart out, and I know it would pain any of my fellow bibliophiles.


Ever hear of the Silver Bible? It's a Gothic translation of the gospels of the Bible. It was taken from the Goths in battle, and it was eventually (over the course of centuries) brought to Sweden where it is kept until this very day. It's a very valuable book, as there is only one copy in the world. The keeper of the Silver Bible thought it was so valuable that he figured he'd sell it by the page.


THAT'S RIGHT. HE TORE OUT EVERY PAGE WITH THE INTENTION OF SELLING THEM TO DIFFERENT BUYERS AT HIGH COST.


That's absolutely disgusting behavior. He was a librarian, so he should have known better. But according to King it would seem that a lot of librarians back then were unscrupulous sorts. Still, it hurts just thinking about that. Luckily the chancellor of Sweden (known, incidentally, as "the most beautiful man in the world") at the time managed to buy up most of the pages, so we have a good deal of the book today. But it's not complete, all because of that dickhead librarian.


Fate wasn't done with the Silver Bible, though. A scholar along the way changed the wording of some passages to make it fit his theories. No one knows who did it. Everyone has their suspicions, but whoever it was, he's a dickhead, too.


And then there are the assholes who broke into the university library in the 1990's and stole the whole thing. It was eventually recovered, but still. Come on.


(It should also be noted that the Silver Bible was almost lost to the sea during its transport to Sweden from Prague. Apparently the only thing that saved it was being locked in a sturdy oak chest.)


So yeah. If you happen upon some ancient text, like there's only one of it in the world, try not to tear it to pieces and sell it page by page. That's dickhead behavior, and some guy like me will call you out on it centuries from now.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #163: STAR WARS SPOILER, SO DON'T READ IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE MOVIE

Seriously, if you haven't seen the new Star Wars movie, you should skip this one. To be honest, I don't think it's a spoiler, but out of fairness I don't want to fuck around with it. See the movie before you read this. On the off chance that you don't know anything about the movie and want to keep that intact when you actually do see the movie.


You know, the new Star Wars has given me a lot to think about. I wish I could have an open discussion with people who have seen the movie around people who have also seen the movie so I don't have to worry about fucking it up for someone who hasn't seen the movie.


OK, I think I've pumped enough words into this. It won't show up on Twitter, but I think I've gone far enough so that Facebook won't quote me this deeply.


Earlier I sent out a Tweet stating this: "The new Star Wars gave me everything I wanted."


This is true. It did. But I wanted my Tweet to say something more. By this point I'm sure you all know that Luke Skywalker is in this one. On the off chance that you didn't know, I wanted to keep my mouth shut. What I really wanted to say in my Tweet is this:


"The new Star Wars gave me everything I wanted. Adventure, excitement and the Jedi who craves not these things."


I loved the new cast, and I expect many things from them. The villain is amazing. I've already heard the complaint that he's a pussy. He's not. He's a wannabe. Here's the interesting thing: HE KNOWS IT. He will never be as powerful as the person he wants to be, and he knows it. He commits a terrible act which will earn him infamy forever among the fans, but here's the thing: I think he feels bad about it. He doesn't want to feel bad, but he does.


Here's what I think will be the next movies: Luke will train his new padawan for a confrontation with the new villain in an attempt to turn the villain from the Dark Side to the Light Side. It will not work, and Luke will be cut down like Obi-Wan. The padawan will have to take over, but the padawan is too full of anger to be a good Jedi. The padawan will have to overcome the qualities of the Dark Side before the villain can be converted. And the villain will be, and the price is the villain's life. It hits all the marks, and if I were to write the next two movies, that's what I would do.


If I'm wrong, I would love to hear about it. What I just said makes total sense, but I am a huge fan of being surprised. I can't wait for the next one.

HEY FUCKERS #25: THE SHIT BLUES

It's one of the most depressing things that can happen to you when you're in the bathroom. You're bloated almost to the point of pain, and you feel an overwhelming urge to shit. So you sit down and get ready for it to just slide out of you.

A timid fart is all you get. You can feel there's something more than gas in there, but it's just not moving. You give it a push, and it nears your asshole. But then it doesn't go further. Maybe it touches the rim, and if you could bend that way, you could probably see it through your stretched anus.

But it doesn't come out. There's no way it's coming out without getting some blood in your stool. It's just not ready to leave your body. There's nothing you can do but suck it back up and wait for later. You wipe, just to make sure, but you don't expect to actually see any shit on the toilet paper. Surprise! There's a thin brown stripe. So you wipe again and again and again, and it just doesn't stop. Jesus hell! You didn't even get to shit, and now you've got to put up with this?!

Finally it subsides, but now you're a bit raw and in a foul mood. You pull up your pants and wash your hands, still feeling bloated but now there's a touch of anger and sadness. There's nothing to do but wait until your log is fully incubated. Time to go back to work and wonder when the bastard will be ready.

THE DONALD SPEAKS #3: TRUMP VS. MUHAMMAD

I don't know much about Muhammad because I'm not a terrorist.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #162: RICHARD HARROW

Longtime readers might remember that my favorite character from BOARDWALK EMPIRE was Richard Harrow. Spoiler alert, but he dies in the fifth season finale. It absolutely broke my heart.


Remember a while ago when I was talking about things I wish I could write? BOARDWALK EMPIRE was a masterpiece of the kind of thing I wanted to write. It had those quiet moments mentioned about THE ASSASSINATION OF JESSE JAMES BY THE COWARD ROBERT FORD, but it also had great moments of character development which I wish I could pawn off as my own.


Richard Harrow went to WWI and got half of his face blown off. An artist was able to give him a half-mask to hide his caved in skull while the rest of him continued as an assassin. But he was never comfortable with who he was. He knew he looked bad, and he tried to hide it from the children of the woman he loved when he came home. The kids never liked it, but the woman was able to cope. No one else could cope except for Jimmy Darmody, who never turned away from his disfigured friend.


Harrow never fails to bring tears to my eyes. He's an efficient killer, but no one (aside from Jimmy) feels close to him because of his horrible disfigurement. Richard falls in love with a woman who does her best, and her children want to be better.


But Richard is on his own. Except . . . do you remember "An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge" by Bierce?


Fans of BOARDWALK EMPIRE will know what I mean. I wish things worked out better for Richard Harrow. Now that I think on it, he was my favorite TV character of all time.  It would have been nice for him to have a way out, but I know, as a writer, that it was impossible.


It's a shame. I loved him more than I've ever loved a person who didn't exist.

THE DONALD SPEAKS #2: TRUMP VS. HITLER

Adolf Hitler was a terrific guy. He did wonders for the German economy, so he made a lot of people rich. He was also an advocate for clean living. He never smoked and he rarely ever drank. The man was a vegetarian. He also made the trains run on time. I don't think Obama has done a very good job of that. He was also a renaissance man. A wonderful writer. I like his watercolors. He was a true artist. Best of all, he went out on his own terms. He's an inspiration to me, and when I'm elected, I'm going to implement a lot of his plans in order to #MakeAmericaGreatAgain.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #161: 3 AM WITH NOTHING TO DO

I woke up at 3 am this morning. I did not want this, but it just happened even though I'd taken a sleeping pill. I tried to remember my dream, but nothing came to mind. I did have morning wood, so out of boredom (and hopes that it would help me get back to sleep), I masturbated for about 15 minutes. Nothing happened.


I took a pill and had a few drinks, but I had to do something until sleep finally took me over. I decided to reread Bukowski's FACTOTUM. I read about twenty chapters before the drugs and booze kicked in. Then I read a few more chapters to make sure the job got done.


Nothing makes one feel better than being intoxicated at 4 am and reading from Bukowski. I passed out soon after, and I didn't get up until 1 pm. It felt wonderful.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #160: MY WRITING IS DECADENT AND DEPRAVED

Many of you longtime readers and friends know that I don't drink and write. I'm horrible at that kind of thing. I don't make sense when I try shit like that. Every once in a while, I will drink and edit. It helps to distance myself from my own work, to make me feel like I'm editing a stranger's work. But write and drink? It has not happened in ten years because it doesn't work.


Until now. For my secret project, I've been drinking and writing. I can't get into the proper headspace without it. It's a special brand of writing that requires being fucked up. I don't feel possessed without it. If I'm just sitting there in front of my computer and typing, it just doesn't feel right unless I've had three shots of whiskey and a beer before writing. At the least. Sometimes some Wild Irish Rose helps. Thankfully this is not going to be a novel. It won't destroy me. Just so long as I can get through the next week of writing in this weird altered state, I think I can survive.


It's weird being in someone else's head, especially the head of a dead man. I'm OK with that kind of thing when they're fictional characters, but when they're real life people, it fucks with me. I don't think I'll ever do this again. It's taking a toll on me. It's fun, but I think if I ever do this again, it will destroy me. Because . . . well . . . it's not just the drink.


Here's the weird, fucked up thing: I'm not getting paid for this gig. I'm doing it for the challenge. It's fucking with me in ways I can never say. It consumes my every thought, and I wonder if I should have ever been given all the medication I've been given all these years. Some are painkillers, and some are psychotic drugs given me because they have an effect on the strange digestion I suffer from.


What am I saying? Well shit. I've always been honest with these GF's. I'm not going to stop now. I don't recommend acting in this way, but it works for me. Shit, it might not even work for me. I don't know what I'm babbling about.


I'm almost done with this story. I think I'll be done in a week, and then I'll stop this nonsense. I won't have a reason to continue after this. I would not be doing this without needing to write this story. I have every confidence that I will stop this when I'm done. Besides, what doctor would give me more drugs to continue this madness? I'm not good at getting drugs on the street, so I won't be able to continue.

Shit. If this story sucks, I'm fucked. All of this will be for nothing. But I feel confident. I read everything I've written every day, and I think it's good. I hope it's all worth it.