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.
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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.
]]>In an effort to combat this, my wife Rachelle has developed a side hustle in which she combs through various stores for used children’s clothing and then sells what she finds online. I have recently become a part of her purchasing team.
What follows are the texts she sent to me while I was on a shopping mission:
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Rachelle: So, did you get those pink Sorel boots at the Value Village that you promised to pick up for me?
Rachelle: Oh.
Rachelle: I’d have thought you’d be there by now.
Rachelle: What problem?
Rachelle: Oh, I didn’t realize that taking the Queen streetcar to a destination on Queen street was “counter-intuitive,” especially considering that we used to live on that street.
Rachelle: Yes, I guess that was a lifetime ago.
Rachelle: We were very different people then, it’s true.
Rachelle: That’s right, there was no Netflix back in those days!
Rachelle: Yes, those were much more innocent times.
Rachelle: Those were the days before you fell down the conspiracy theory rabbit hole!
Rachelle: I’m sorry dear, of course I meant “Got Woke.”
Rachelle: Yes, you really are just as woke as fuck, and you’re right, the Lame-stream media can’t be trusted– it’s just too bad you still have such trouble with ordinary challenges is all.
Rachelle: Oh.
Rachelle: That’s what you want people to think.
Rachelle: I see.
Rachelle: Conceal the truth within a fog of misdirection! Just like a magician!
Rachelle: It’s amazing how successful you’ve been at making everybody believe you’re not very hygienic and unable to hold a job!
Rachelle: Oh, don’t be like that!
Rachelle: You’re still my favourite flavour of ice cream!
Rachelle: What? Something’s happening on the streetcar?
Rachelle: Bullying? Well that is serious!
Rachelle: What’s he saying to you, Pickle?
Rachelle: Well sure, it could be somebody else getting bullied, but I just figured it was part of your plan. You know, to draw fire from the weak to the strong!
Rachelle: I do know you well, Pickle!
Rachelle: So what did the guy say to you?
Rachelle: She called you a “weak-chinned twerp” because you got the last seat?
Rachelle: You’re right, it’s not your fault she’s slow.
Rachelle: You know what I think? I think she underestimated your quickness! Just like you planned!
Rachelle: But still, it’s amazing how bullies know exactly where to attack!
Rachelle: How did she know that you’re so sensitive about your weak chin?
Rachelle: Oh, good one, telling her you just had hernia surgery and needed to sit is sure to shut her up!
Rachelle: Oh, I’m sorry that it didn’t work.
Rachelle: And now she’s making fun of your “Solidarity Pin?”
Rachelle: What is a “Solidarity Pin.”
Rachelle: Oh, it’s a safety pin that signals to others that you’re a safe zone? And any persecuted group or person can take comfort under the umbrella of your entitlement, is that it?
Rachelle: So you’re kind of like an X-Man?
Rachelle: Got it.
Rachelle: Are other people wearing safety pins rushing to your aid?
Rachelle: No?
Rachelle: Well, maybe it’s your responsibility to find them?
Rachelle: Do you have your Ativan with you?
Rachelle: You better take one, honey. Maybe two.
Rachelle: Remember your breathing exercises.
Rachelle: In through the nose and then slowly out the mouth like you’re blowing out a candle.
Rachelle: Oh, Pierre, my power skating coach is trying to get through right now, so I have to go.
Remember to pick up the boots, my brave, little cloud of disinformation, and don’t let that bully scare you off your mission!
]]>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aki6xZCo0Fw
At first this incident was attributed to overheating and dehydration, but this was later revised, the cause falling on a mild case of pneumonia. Whether the initial concealment of this was a simple matter of obscurant political reflex, or if the pneumonia is actually a symptom of a more sinister, underlying condition as many are speculating, is unknown. What is known is that illness, be it mild or grave, is not at all uncommon amidst people around 70 who are subject to inconceivable stress and an insane work schedule. Legions of Presidents have suffered aliments, and this is a short list of some of them:
Lyndon B Johnson had the Dropsy.
Martin Van Buren, after being prescribed laudanum for the pain associated with his gout, became an opium addict. This is an excerpt from Van Buren’s diary:
“ …Men of genius move in orbits of their own; and seem deprived of that free will which permits the mere man of talent steadily to pursue the beaten path. Van Buren was made to soar and not to creep. I should much wish, like the Indian Vishna, to float about along an infinite ocean cradled in the flower of the Lotos, & wake once in a million years for a few minutes – just to know that I was going to sleep a million years more.”
George H W Bush suffered from Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome, which is characterized by episodes of severe vomiting that have no apparent cause. Episodes can last for hours or days and alternate with relatively symptom-free periods of time.
Whenever Bush visited Japan, he threw-up almost constantly.
Zachary Taylor suffered from Crop Sickness, a condition that made him unusually cruel to his slaves and eventually killed him.
FDR had Polio and was confined to a wheelchair. The press even colluded with him in attempts to portray him in ways that did not directly associate him with a wheelchair.
Josiah Bartlett suffered from Multiple Sclerosis, but in spite of that is still considered the greatest orator of all the American Presidents.
George W Bush, while on a bombing mission over Hanoi in October 1967, was shot down, seriously injured, and captured by the North Vietnamese. Although Bush was able to charm his way to freedom, his injuries caused him lifelong physical limitations. Art therapy has been a large part of Bush’s continued recovery.
Jimmy Carter was abducted by an alien spacecraft in 1973, thoroughly examined, and then released. He has suffered Night Terrors ever since, and is now obsessed with creating crop circles.
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Last year there was a play-off game between the Texas Rangers and the Toronto Blue Jays that was perhaps, one of the weirdest, most entertaining, anarchic ball games in the history of the known universe.
Part ayahuasca trip, the game culminated when Blue Jay superstar Jose Bautista absolutely crushed a three-run homer that for all intents and purposes, ended the game, time and the universe.
It was that epic.
The Rangers were ruined.
You could see the post-traumatic stress disorder forming in their glassy eyes. You could see the days of boozing and aimless driving. You could see that recovery was going to be impossible.
And if that wasn’t enough, Bautista performed a now legendary bat flip that saw him standing motionless at home plate, like a statute of a Greek God, as he watched the ball sail to glory,
before dropping the mic by tossing the bat, as if it was now something repellent to him, about a mile away.
This got under the skin of the broken Rangers, and it stayed there.
Jose Bautista has big, rat-like ears, the physical rectitude of a matador and a self-confidence that radiates from him like some sort of X-Man power. He is arrogant, this man, and although he’s an intelligent and astounding baseball player, he’s still a prick. I mean, he thinks of himself as a corporation and acts accordingly. He knows how great he is, and if for some reason you forget it, his body language will surely remind you, and if that doesn’t, well, he’ll tell you. You get the sense with Bautista, that he really does see the rest of the world as, “The Little People.”
At any rate, this bat flip, this losing in the playoffs to the Jays has stuck in the collective craw of the Rangers for the better part of a year.
Sunday was the last meeting of the two teams this year (barring a playoff match-up) and the Rangers pitcher hit Bautista with a pitch. This was pay back, and although Bautista gave him the slow, threatening stink-eye, he didn’t do anything, until he did do something. This something was a hard, illegal take-out slide of Ranger second baseman Rougned Odor on an ensuing play.
Now this sort of thing has been happening in baseball for a hundred years, but only recently was this kind of slide (in which you try to knock over the second baseman rather than achieve possession of the bag) made illegal. Odor, the second baseman, shoved Bautista in the chest. Bautista, who could buy and sell the little man, moved toward him like a God toward a mortal, and as he was pulling his fingers together to make a fist, Rougned clocked him in the face with a stunning punch that saw Bautista’s $13,000 glasses, helmet and ego go flying.
It was awesome.
Of course, there are all sorts of people who are upset about the savagery of the act, but not me. It was cathartic and shocking, a David and Goliath moment that saw the preening, entitled 30 million dollar a year athlete get what his behaviour actually warranted. It was, for a moment, a kind of justice, a blow for the little man, and it made me happy.
Fun fact: The name Barbados is derived from the Bearded Fig trees once found in abundance on the island.
Fun fact: There are only three known ghosts on the entire island.
Fun fact: Barbados is the birthplace of Rihanna who lived here until the age of 16.
Fun fact: If a beach hustler with a gold tooth asks you if you want to buy a coconut or a seashell, he might mean cocaine or weed.
Fun fact: Bicyclists in Barbados do not wear helmets and shoes appear optional.
Fun fact: You will only see white women, as if in a movie they once saw, jogging on the beach.
Fun fact: Tiger Woods chose to have his wedding in Barbados in 2004.
Fun fact: Chickens roam as freely on the streets of Barbados as squirrels do in Toronto!
Fun fact: It is embarrassing to have your wife pull you to shore from an undertow when you were pretty sure you didn’t need any help at all, especially when cool looking locals playing dominoes were watching.
Fun fact: The people of Barbados have a long ingrained history of Christian principles.
Fun fact: Homosexuality is illegal in Barbados!
Fun fact: Some women in Barbados dress like superheroes– like those who wear capes and control the weather– for church on Sunday.
Fun fact: The middle-aged British women who sun on the beach all prefer reading crime mysteries to any other genre.
Fun fact: Sand crabs are faster and more perceptive than you’d think.
Fun fact: Finding an artificial flower petal washed-up on a gorgeous, dream beach is entirely dislocating.
Fun fact: The Six Million Dollar man is not a cultural reference widely understood by most Bajans.
Fun fact: Women who look like they might have worked at Coyote Ugly back in the day really enjoy the attention of beach hustlers.
Fun fact: Squid are also known as Seacat in Barbados.
Fun fact: Sometimes it is easy to mistake a night diver’s flashlight exploring the water just beneath the surface for sub-aquatic UFO activity.
Fun fact: In Barbados, one drives on the left side of the road, which is easy to forget, especially if you only have your Learner’s Permit.
Fun fact: Sometimes a monkey, as fast as a demon, will dart in front of your car.
Fun fact: Monkeys are not supernatural and can be killed upon impact with your car.
Fun fact: Monkey deaths are very upsetting.
Fun fact: The monkey face is very human and expressive and it is heartbreaking to see a dying one reach out to you with its little monkey hand on the side of a tropical road.
Fun fact: My wife can’t stop crying and I am pretty sure she now hates me.
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