THE JOHN BRUNI MUSEUM OF MEDIOCRE (AT BEST) SHIT #28: REVIEW OF OK

[I’m a huge fan of Doc Holliday. I even wrote a short storyabout him that one time. I love Tombstone, The Gunfight at the OK Corral, etc. This book rubbed me the wrong way back then. If I reread it today, I don’t think I’d be so harsh on it. Also, I didn’t know James Ellroy’s writing advice at the time. He said that the author had to know how big each characters’ dicks are. I learned that a few years ago, and I have considered it in all of my work, both the serious stuff and the batshit crazy stuff. This is one of the pieces I wrote for the summer edition of the Leader, Aug 18, 2000 to be precise.]

Doc Holliday was a true, perhaps the only, American Western myth that stood out from the rest.

Men like Wyatt Earp, men with extreme violent tendencies in the name of good, were many on the frontier; you only had to go as far as Morgan and Virgil, two of his brothers, to find another Wyatt Earp.

There were plenty of baby-faced killers like Billy the Kid, and just as many gentlemen bank robbers, like Black Bart.

John Henry “Doc” Holliday was strikingly unique. When one looks at his life, one question rises above all else.

Considering how he was well on his way to becoming a respected dentist in the South, a job that would get him quite a lot of money and prospective wives, he somehow became, as Wyatt Earp once said, “the most skillful gambler and the nerviest, speediest, deadliest man with a six-gun I ever knew.”

How did he go from one lifestyle to the other? Granted, he had tuberculosis, but could that have been all?

Paul West tries to answer this question in his novel, OK (Scribner, $24), giving us a peek into Doc’s mind.

Unfortunately, that is all this book is about. It’s very slow moving, considering all it contains are Doc’s thoughts on this, that, or the other thing. Action is only barely present.

While the book shows how many hours West must have researched Doc’s life (as well as the lives of those around him, including the Earps and Big Nose Kate, Doc’s lady of the night), one of the most important aspects of writing a historical novel is conjecture, and West has no idea on how to do this.

No one can ever know all the facts about an historical event, so many writers who write about the past have to guess at many things. These writers use facts to help them guess about certain issues, but West doesn’t use any evidence whatsoever for his conjectures.

For example, there is no proof that Wyatt Earp had a case of disguises in his closet for when he wanted to do things he typically wouldn’t want to be seen doing, like gambling and paying his respects to the ladies of the night.

While West’s guess at Wyatt’s vanity is pretty well grounded, the disguise thing is pulled completely out of the air.

On that same note, one can question West’s basis for his conjecture that Wyatt kept a collection of dildoes. Again, there was no evidence.

However, when it comes to facts, West is a master. When he describes the gunfight at the OK Corral, he is very historically accurate, right down to persons killed and/or wounded at what time, who said what during the shout out, and who chickened out just after the shooting began.

Another accomplishment of West’s is his ability to disturb readers.

He opens the novel up with Doc walking over to the spittoon to drop a hunk of red matter in it from his mouth. Another scene described later in the book how, at the end of his life, Doc’s lungs were being torn apart by the air from the Glenwood Springs asylum.

Doc spent his last years ridden with sores before the tuberculosis spread to his entire body, tearing everything apart “like some fanatic general wiping out France to make sure of Paris.”

West’s difficulty selecting a point of view proves a bit distracting from the story he is trying to retell, though. OK is written in third person limited, from Doc’s perspective. However, every once in a while, West will switch to omniscient to try out Mattie’s (Doc’s cousin) mind, or maybe Wyatt’s.

Even stranger are his sudden switches to first person to relate his own feelings.

West’s biggest problem, aside from the technical ones, is his undying desire to talk about male genitalia.

There’s not only the instance where he mentions Wyatt’s collection of dildos, there’s also moments when he goes out of his way to describe how whenever Doc ejaculates, it’s tainted red. Even more jarring is the discussion Doc and Wyatt presumably had on foreskins, especially when it turns to the two men tying their erections together with a yellow ribbon.

In an historical book like this, these anecdotes are way out of place and are usually uncalled for.

Thinking about sex is natural, but when it becomes so deeply rooted in your writing that you’re constantly referring to large cumbersome objects as erections, it’s time to visit a shrink.

There have been quite a few portrayals of Doc Holliday: Kirk Douglas in The Gunfight at the OK Corral showed how violent and calculating Doc was. Val Kilmer in Tombstone showed how well-spoken, loyal, and vicious Doc had been. Dennis Quaid in Wyatt Earp excelled in showing how loyal a friend Doc was to Wyatt. All these portrayals are great, but West’s portrayal is easily the worst.

West didn’t even answer the damn question. OK has its moments, but they’re not worth it.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #195: SOMETHING I'D LIKE TO DO SOMEDAY

There are two things you should read in order to get anything out of this GF. The first is my favorite GF I've ever done. It's about a picture that always brings me to tears and the tragedy of Audie Murphy. The other is my Forced Viewing review of GODS AND MONSTERS.


I'm not a big fan of fictionalized stories about real life people. I don't care about Edgar Allan Poe hunting serial killers. As far as I'm concerned Lovecraft never faced off against Cthulhu. And so on. You can point fingers at me for writing about the time that GG Allin went on a dream-quest for dope. Or the time I wrote about Doc Holliday stealing Wyatt Earp's body so he could survive TB. That's fair enough. Because I believe there are some exceptions.


My favorite exception is GODS AND MONSTERS. Is that how James Whale spent his last days? Probably not. But it's a wonderful, beautiful, shocking story.


I kinda want to do the same thing for Audie Murphy. The idea of him going crazy while watching a war movie based on his experience in which he plays himself is creatively stimulating. I would love to sink my teeth into something like that. There is so much nuance in a tale like that. There is so much that could be done. It's impossible to resist.


Is there anyone in the world who would be interested in that? I know that not a lot of people know who Audie Murphy is now. Chances are I'd be writing something that only people over 50 would appreciate. But it's something I'd like to do. I know some publishers. Would any of you want to see something like that? Let me know.

TALES OF DENTISTRY CHAPTER FIVE

Let me give you an idea of what my dental practices are. In the morning, after eating breakfast, I use a Sonic toothbrush on my teeth, gums, and tongue. This was recommended by Dentist Two to get my gums to spring back from my case of gingivitis. It actually worked, too. My mouth was starting to look much healthier, even if my teeth are a bit on the discolored side. Speaking of which, Dentist Two’s hygienist told me to use Sensodyne Pronamel because the enamel of my teeth has faded considerably. I am apparently at risk of having my teeth chip and crack because of this. So when I use the Sonic toothbrush, I put Pronamel on it. Then, I use a proxy brush (also with Pronamel on it) to go between my teeth, rather than floss. Lastly, I use the mini brush and the special mouthwash I was given a couple of chapters ago to keep the cap on my implant clean. And then, just before I go to bed, I do it all over again.



Three months of this, and thousands of dollars. But it will all be worth it.


I went in to Dentist Two to have the abutment put in. It was a very quick procedure. In fact, calling it a procedure seems a bit pretentious. I sat down, and she unscrewed the cap. She then snapped a plastic piece into place, and that was it. My abutment was in.

When I looked in the mirror, what I saw looked like a filed down, miniature tooth with a flat top. Weird, but better than the metal knob. I was then told that I could have the crown put on whenever I wanted. I said I had a cleaning scheduled with Dentist One in about a month, and she said that was fine.

On my way out, I was presented with the bill. “Four-twenty-five,” I was told.


I pulled out a five. That seemed reasonable for a piece of plastic.


“Sorry, hon. I meant four hundred and twenty-five.”


“Oh.” Well, I couldn’t pay that. In fact, all I could offer was the five. I now have yet another bill, this time for $420. Which would be cool, if I smoked weed.


I decided not to wait for the cleaning. I wanted this done as soon as possible. I contacted Dentist One and was told that I could come in for the molding at the end of the week. From there, it would take two weeks to make the crown, and then everything would finally be done.


It’s a good thing I didn’t wait the month, then. I wanted to be done as soon as possible.


I went in for the molding. It sounded simple enough, but it was actually kind of gross. Dentist One popped out the $425 abutment and put this half-tray with goo on it in my mouth.


“This will take five minutes to set,” he said, and he held the tray in place.


I felt the cold goo ooze around my teeth and into the empty spot. At first, it was just uncomfortable, and then I tasted it as it rubbed up against my tongue. Awful. But the worst part was trying to swallow.


I’ve got a bad gag reflex, and it reared its ugly head that day. I started gagging with the thing in my mouth. I tried not to, but my throat just started convulsing. Dentist One tried his best to help, but he couldn’t take the tray out now. We had to stay the course.


“Just lean forward. Don’t swallow. I don’t care if you drool all over the place.”


I took this advice and started breathing heavily through my nose. Saliva ran like a river out of my mouth, down his gloved hand, and down to the bib around my neck. I felt gross and foolish.


But finally, it was over. He yanked the mold out of my mouth and prepared the next one. “Don’t worry, this one sets after only a minute.” It was still bad, but it could have been worse. I didn’t gag on this one, but I was building up to it. If it was in any longer, I probably would have puked all over Dentist One.


After this was done, he held up a bunch of sample crowns against my other teeth, and it took me a moment to realize he was trying to match up the color. As soon as he’d settled on one, he let me out of the chair and said, “We’ll set you up for two weeks, and then this thing will be over.”


We decided that I’d just come in earlier on my cleaning day. We’d put the crown in, and then we’d get my teeth cleaned. And that would be all she wrote.


Between that day and the day of the crown, I received notification from my insurance. This crown alone was going to cost me $1,600. I didn’t think it would be that much. Fuck. And I didn’t expect the insurance to cover any of it, but still.


Let this be a lesson, kids: don’t lose your teeth.


I noticed a paragraph on the letter, though, that gave me some hope. Dentist One’s office didn’t submit all the paperwork. It was possible that some of this would be soaked up by the insurance, if everything was filed properly.


When I went in to get the crown placed in, I mentioned this to the assistant. She said that she’d noticed the discrepancy, and that everything had been sent in per the insurance company’s instructions. Guess what: it’s possible that they’ll pay a good percentage of this. At the time of this writing, I don’t know if this is true. Maybe I’ll write an epilogue some day and let you know.


They led me back to the dentist’s chair, and I was given a cursory examination. When Dentist One determined that everything was good, he showed me the crown, which he’d filled with some kind of liquid. Concrete, I think. He then slid it into place and gave me a cotton ball to bite on.


“There’s a clock up there,” he said, pointing. “Bite down as hard as you can for an entire minute. Then, bite firmly for another minute.”


How, exactly, does one quantify the difference between biting firmly and biting as hard as one can? Just to be sure, I pushed my jaw up against the rest of my head as hard as possible for an entire minute. Only then did I rely on my ordinary biting strength.


Soon, it was all over. The cotton ball was removed, and I was escorted over to the opposite side of the building for my cleaning. It wasn’t until I got back out to my car that I got a look at my new tooth.


It’s passable. If no one is trying to find it, it will look just like any other tooth. However, if given more than a cursory examination, it’s pretty obvious. There is a short distance between it and my gum-line, which doesn’t compare with the rest of my teeth at all. There is a plastic quality to it, and the lack of a filling distinguishes it from the rest of my molars. However, the dentist managed to match the color to the rest of my teeth EXACTLY.


Having gone so long without a tooth there, it feels strange in my mouth, especially if I’m chewing. It’s so much smoother than the rest of my teeth, it feels like I have a marble stuck in my mouth when I’m eating.


But I’d much rather have this alien feeling—a feeling that will probably go away with time—in my mouth than to have a space between my teeth, a space where food constantly gets caught.


I can’t even tell you how many thousands of dollars I spent on this implant (because I don’t yet have the final numbers), but it’s worth every penny.


Still and all, take care of your teeth, folks. As Doc Holliday said in WYATT EARP, “They’re the only set you’ll have.”