It was a hit.

A really big hit.

It became pretty hard to keep up, and then, after one reader misinterpreted my thoughts regarding the use of fire while giving a reading, I decided to step back to spend more time with my family. Regardless, the letters kept coming, and so I feel I owe it to my loyal fans to resurrect the column, which is what I’m doing right now.

*****************************************************

Dear Bitter Writer:

You’re likely aware of the Twitter Challenge in which women were asked to, “Describe yourself like a male author would.” The point of this, of course, was to illustrate how men objectified women, but what I would find really interesting with you– as an impossibly mediocre white man in possession of a level of confidence that outstrips your very modest competencies by an incalculable magnitude– is to have you describe yourself. I have included a photograph in case you should need a reference point.

Lynn from Montreal

Dear Lynn:

In Havana he was known as “ La muerte incómoda.”

It was a term of respect, of great respect, in fact, and more than a little fear. What had Michael Murray done to earn such a nickname from the gentle people of Cuba?

Well, that’s a long and complicated story that will reveal itself in time, but for now we should just imagine the man as he sat there, commandingly, in the barber’s chair. His face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, and his most striking feature was his opaline green eyes, which could be both alluring or intimidating, as the situation required. A part of his barber’s apron fell open from the cooling breeze of the fan and revealed the shirt he was wearing. There were little baseball players on it. He looked up, his eyes clear and even as he wiped some sweat off his upper lip, “ ¿Cómo está mi calva haciendo allí?” he asked the trembling barber. And in that moment Murray’s beauty was revealed the edge of a very sharp knife.

Dear Bitter Writer:

It recently came to my attention that an author at a major publishing house threatened to slap a reviewer who didn’t like his moronic, insulting book, and I was wondering if the publishing house was going to punish him for it, or if white male authors can do literally anything?

Karen in Toronto

Dear Karen:

Have you seen White Male Author: Infinity War, yet?

Easily the best of the franchise. Just fantastic.

At any rate, this movie goes a long way to answer your question. In it, Thanos

attempts to destroy Planet Earth, and after incapacitating both The Avengers and The X-Men it seemed that victory was certain. Right at this despairing point in the movie, White Male Author showed up and blasted him with his laser pulses.

He then flew around Thanos so quickly that the wind currents kept him pinned to the ground while the other superheroes freed themselves from the Polaris Fog that Thanos had used to trap them, and then all together were able to cast Thanos back into the Canyons of Zorg. So it’s clear that although White Male Author is VERY powerful, certainly superior to Spiderman, he might not be as invincible as The Hulk or The Thing.

At any rate, even though White Male Author is very, very powerful, I don’t think he can do literally anything.

Back in January he launched a public campaign called The Cut The Waist Challenge, where he pledged to lose 50 of his 330 pounds in five months. It was a campy circus, this, with the mayor having public weigh-ins (sometimes with girls in lettuce bikinis!) each week and TV stations reporting on it as if it was a sports event. However, after a period of time the mayor stopped showing up for the weigh-ins, and then gave up on the entire project about month before it was to end.

You should know that I used to drink with Rob Ford back when he was a student at Carleton University in Ottawa. We were both last call regulars at a local bar and we became friendly in the way that only barflies bound by drinking can. The truth is that I don’t think we ever had a sober conversation, but we bonded through this somehow, and even though we haven’t seen one another in over 15 years, we still text one another when drinking alone. A kind of nostalgia, I guess.

I hadn’t heard from Rob in quite a long time, but on Friday, at 1:45 in the morning, he sent me a text.

Mayor Ford: Mur? You thare?

Me: SLOBBER!!!

Mayor Ford: Cowabangle, dude!

Me: How’s it hanging, captain?

Mayor Ford: Straight and strong, straight and srtong!

Me: What up, big dog?

Mayor Ford: Just watched Along Came Polly. Would totally do Jennifer Aniston!!!

Me: She’d be a lucky woman.

Mayor Ford: I’d be her fucking friend, if you know what I mean.

Me: You’d be a glamour couple, like the goddamn Kennedy’s!

Mayor Ford: I wonder what she smells like????

Me: Suntan lotion and misspent money?

Mayor Ford: Ha! She smells like big government! Let me tel u, I would cut the hell out of her deficit!

Me: Wacha drinking?

Mayor Ford: Gin, lotto gin tonight. On the patio throwing ashtrays at squirrels. You?

Me: Playing Angry Birds and drinking rum.  I miss the old days, Slobber!

Mayor Ford: Me2, little buddy, me2.

Me: ME2 sounds like a robot in a movie! Saw the Avengers the other day. Awesome!

Mayor Ford: 3-D rules. I completely fucking relate to the Hulk!  He my man!!

Me: Puny humans bother Hulk! Hulk smash!

Mayor Ford: SMASH!!SMASH!!SMASH!!

Me: Hey, how’s the weight-loss thing going?

Mayor Ford: SMASH!!SMASH!!SMASH!!

Me: Not so well?

Mayor Ford: SMASH!!SMASH!!SMASH!!

Mayor Ford: You know what my favourite part of the Avengers was?

Me: The smashing?

Mayor Ford: Yeah and Scarlett Johansson’s ass. Love the 3ddee.

Me: Aniston or Johansson?

Mayor Ford: BOTH!!! HAHAAHAHAHA!

Mayor Ford: Fuck, I love gin.

Me: Still get high?

Mayor Ford: Does a bull shit in a chinashop?

Me: Why’d you quit the weight-loss challenge?

Mayor Ford: Barbeque Season. Pulled fucking Pork.

Me: What about austerity measures?

Mayor Ford: Barbeque season ain’t no time for austerity measures!

Mayor Ford: Go Argos!!

Me: YOU THE MAN!

Mayor Ford: Lead, follow or get under the doggamn bus!

Mayor Ford: HULK SMASH BUS!!

Me: Testify!

Mayor Ford: I think globarl warming is real. GEts hotter all thetime. Love ya little buddy! Dizzy bedtime.