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
I get that a lot, myself.
ReplyDeleteIt is a Problem we have in common
ReplyDeleteWill 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".
ReplyDeleteI just love that "Ever" to bits and pieces.
All the postcards from Too Far are too obscene to be sent through the mails
ReplyDelete