Sunday, June 27, 2010

Too Far Is Where I Live Now

Jack: I think your New Yorker Rejection Robot story should be disseminated more widely. The world needs to know

Me: I know--we'll send the New Yorker Rejection Robot story to the New Yorker. The Rejection Robot will short-circuit, it is not programmed to handle so much Meta

Sam: The imagery of the t-rex, priceless

Me: I debated putting that in there, I thought, what if the New Yorker finds it

Sam: The New Yorker isn't looking. Reader's Digest is watching us all, but not the New Yorker

Me: The New Yorker doesn't know about the internet yet, thank God--imagine the porn it would be looking at! All James Thurber making love to Roz Chast on the back of a horse, all Woody Allen pouring milk on his face, all Malcom Gladwell tasting a mushroom

Sam: All David Mamet rimming Steve Martin's banjo

Me: All Wallace Shawn/William Shawn incest scenarios

Jack: All Updike/Cheever boiler room caresses

Me: All Jonathan Safran Foer jerking off onto a rose--through the miracle of time-lapse he climaxes just at the moment the rose opens

Sam: ...

Jack: ...

Me: Too far


Admiral Farragut said...

I get that a lot, myself.

Tricia said...

It is a Problem we have in common

Anonymous said...

Will you send me a postcard from Too Far? What is its epithet? My hometown is "Formerly Forest Creek Site of the World's RIchest Shallow Alluvial Goldfield Ever".

I just love that "Ever" to bits and pieces.

Tricia said...

All the postcards from Too Far are too obscene to be sent through the mails