This Week's Phone-In Post
Reason #47 not to work at home. I am currently listening to my wife scold my son for playing in the toilet, and my son is screaming that he wants to play in the toilet, and there are three fire trucks outside my window because a water-main burst in the community church that is currently, to our delight, being turned into a drug-rehab center. Life is very glamorous.
So I thought I'd let you all know that I continue to read books. Number 29 was A Dream In Polar Fog, which I wrote up for The American Book Review. I'm glad I did, or else I would have never read a novel about indigenous Siberians at the turn of the 20th Century. It's a very exciting book in the tradition of Jack London but with contemporary politics.
Number 30 was Bad Haircut, Tom Perotta's first book, a collection of short stories about growing up in the 1970s, smoothly told, nicely constructed, totally genuine, free of some of the artifice that mars his well-observed novels. Why did I read Bad Haircut? Because it was on the shelf in the room at someone else's house where I'm going to write my exciting memoir. That's as good a reason as any to pick a book.
And why am I going somewhere else to write? Because as we speak, my son is shrieking and stomping through the house because my wife just told him not to shriek. He's been funny this summer, but you can't work at home with a toddler underfoot. Simply impossible. Anyway, the wife informs me that "Elijah just flushed one of his mixer spinners down the toilet." Suffice it to say that a "mixer spinner" is from a plastic kitchen kit that we bought him. I must admit that it's fun to flush things down the toilet.
A few more random things. I have nothing to add to the Karl Rove hoo-ha. Why would I? It's been a long time since I felt anything more than impotent in regards to commenting on politics. The side I fall on should be obvious to all. String 'im up by the balls on national TV.
I can, however, comment on Joe Johnson's near-decision to jump ship from the Phoenix Suns to play for the Atlanta Hawks. Listen, cowboy, you're getting 70 MILLION dollars no matter who you sign with. Who cares if you're an All-Star? Do you want to win a title or have "J-Smooth," "J-Chill," and "Eddy" Curry fumble all your passes out of bounds? At least Nash can get you the ball. Think about it, hot shot. Anyone who would rather be an All-Star than win a title always runs afoul of the NBA gods. I can think of few exceptions.
And that's the way it is, July 15, 2005. Neal Pollack......good day!