40 Days in the Wilderness, Little Children.

matisse at 50

Here’s the short list of things I’m pissed about:

Just kidding, I typed it and then I deleted them all, you don’t need that, kids.  Mommy and Daddy were just having a discussion.

Suffice it to say a lot of stupid shit happens in February because because because because because….

Winter is the Roman general, we are its rowers:

Let me tell you this: “Broad City” is super dirty and super funny.

Let me tell you this:

True, true, and you feel better having looked upon Westley and Buttercup, both of them more beautiful than any animal at the zoo, even with their clothes on.

Here’s a more serious question, though: would you rather sleep with Westley or Wallace Shawn?  It’s not so simple.  I know, Westley is beautiful and clever.  But New Yorker cred?  And let’s face it, Westley is a man of many talents, none of which will age well at all.  I don’t even know if he can read.  Maybe he love Kid Rock.  We just don’t know.  And Westley will probably have PTSD from being mostly dead.  That aint gonna be cute.  Think of the theater tickets you’ll get from Mr. Shawn.  Damn.  I told you, it’s not easy.

FIN.

Aside: Wallace Shawn was so convinced he was going to do a terrible job, he almost quit.  Oh, my God, Mr. Shawn, seriously.  Maybe we’re all doing better than we think.  At least some of us are.

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