Dear Reader:

There isn’t a day that goes by in which your name doesn’t escape my lips, even if I don’t quite know who you are exactly. Although I’m sure they’ll work out the kinks before they send you this message. Humor me. This is boilerplate. And it sustains the illusion that you and I know each other or are capable of having a conversation beyond the almighty books that separate us or serve, in their rightful way, as a kind of surrogate restraining order.

When I immerse my smooth legs into the sudsy veneer of my bubble bath, I wonder why you can’t be there with me traversing the soapy filament. You rock my bathroom environment, [insert first name here], because maybe you are those bubbles. If you have five o’clock shadow, your stubble might bristle against my goosebumped flesh at the end of the day. Not unlike the bubbles. I know you slide your hard-earned money across the smooth surface of the bookstore counter to purchase my books, and I can confidently divine that you would exercise the same fastidiousness in sliding your way across my counterpane. Assuming, of course, that you can pass the intelligence test.

I should warn you, [insert first name here], that I am a married woman. But my four ventricles will beat hot and heavy for you if you do not cower at my great intellect and if you can willfully abdicate your masculinity, your pride, and your thoughts on the mortgage you are now paying in an aggressive game of tennis. You’ve read Double Fault, yes? Well, let us quadruple fault and find folly in two universes. Let us not talk about Kevin, unless your name is Kevin. [Note to editor: Remove last sentence if recipient is named Kevin.] I am sure you come from a perfectly good family, but, like Peggy Atwood, I do not suffer fools gladly. So please come prepared.

Love,

Lionel

(via Bookninja)

I’m concentrating most of my fiction energies on the novel, but Garth Hallberg somehow thought I was an apposite fellow to write a story set around this photo. You can find the result here, along with short shorts from other contributors.

A spam email I received:

To: ed@edrants.com
Subject: Dogs Are Dying In 6 Hours

Friends, especially dog lovers,

There’s an epidemic that has been extremely prevalent in these states:AR, AZ, CA, CO, FL, GA, IN, KS, MS, OH, NC, PA, SC, TN, and TX; however, many other states and some countries such as Australia, Canada, England and others are experiencing a marked increase in the number of Canine Parvovirus cases.

Parvo is normally an aggressive virus that attacks the gastro-intestinal lining in dogs and if left untreated can kill a dog in 24 to 72 hours more than 80% of the time.

However, there’s a new much more virulent mutation that is killing dogs in as little as six (6) hours after symptoms (i.e. yellow frothy vomit, diarrhea/bloody diarrhea, dehydration, lethargy, loss of appetite, etc.) first show.

Instead of symptoms taking days, with this new version the symptoms only take a few hours to fully develop. This newer mutation is like Parvo on crack.This is why dogs dehydrate and die in as little as six (6) hours.

This Parvo killing machine is called 2c (aka F-Strain).There has been a staggering increase in the number of Parvo cases this year with the 2c Strain because: VACCINATED dogs (both puppies and adults) are still becoming infected.Many of the current Parvo vaccinations cannot counter
2c.

And if your dog does become infected, you must be prepared and know all of your options.The typical cost to treat your dog at the vet’s clinic will be anywhere from $500 to over $6000 per dog and your vet will probably give you only a 50:50 chance at a full recovery.

The everyday common things you do with your dog could get him infected: if you take your dog for a walk, go to the park, visit a neighbor’s house, etc. because all he needs to do is step in contaminated feces, vomit, saliva (yes even nose-to-nose contact) can spread the Parvo virus.

Today, Maud makes her LATBR debut, reviewing Alan Bennett’s The Uncommon Reader. I believe that now makes six bloggers who have appeared in the LATBR, rivaled only by the Philly Inquirer.

Tod Goldberg as Parade Editor-in-Chief? Well, Mr. Goldberg is certainly the dark horse candidate. But if it means more “fucktards” in Parade, as opposed to garden-variety fucktards writing for the magazine, then what will it take to make this happen?