stupid car, redux///more moore
So for the third time in less than two weeks, I have taken my car to the mechanic to have its problems assessed and (less and less presumably each visit) repaired. Resultant of my many years experience with mechanics and car dealers throughout the years, I have developed a healthy distrust for their ability to tell the truth and not attempt to fleece me for every fucking cent that I have to my name before finally returning my vehicle to a state of moderate health. My current vehicle is not an exception to this enervating trend. As a matter of fact, it seems to have become the most highly-referenceable example of this hated aspect of my existence. I truly wait with baited breath for the day that I can declare this car a lemon under New York state lemon law, at which point I will kindly hurl the keys back to the lying fucking servicemen, making a lovely key-shaped dent in their foreheads.
'Nuff said.
***
I continue to voraciously devour books by Christopher Moore. So far, I have read Lamb, A Dirty Job, Island of the Sequined Love Nun and am currently a hundred or so pages into Fluke. I am officially an addict of this man's work. It's subversively genious, hillarious and highly digestable. The Stupidest Angel is currently on it's way to my snail-mailbox from Barnes and Noble's warehouse. After that will be the sequence of Bloodsucking Fiends and You Suck. I haven't had this much fun reading since I discovered Tom Robbins during high school.
Speaking of Tom Robbins, his newest book B is for Beer will be released on April 21st. Sadly, though, all signs point to this tome being less than onehundred pages long. Brevity is a sad trend that has besotted Tom's last three publications (Villa Incognito, Wild Ducks Flying Backwards and the forthcomming book). While they are invariably elating to read, I'm starting to feel gyped by what has ultimately been amounting to literary teasing, and hope he at least one more good and meaty four or five hundred pager left in him before he get's TOO much older to write (dude is in his seventies, now).