Real Neal And Pretend Neal
FROM: Edward Champion
Dear Mr. Pollack:
I have read David Kamp's New York Times review of your book, and I write to inform you that Mr. Kamp has shown me the True Gospel. He has convinced me not to buy your book. Beyond your problems of limning the meaning of "unrelentingly hilarious" to a hoary dude who writes for Vanity Fair is the troubling dichotomy of Real Neal and Pretend Neal.
This is a new concept to me. I can find nothing on your website that states or explains this distinction. Will there be an annotated paperback version of the book to spell this out? Because, really, I'd like nothing more than to read some facile book naked on the chaise longue while cracking peanut shells on my chest. Before this review, Mr. Pollack, I had hoped that your book would be the one. But now that I've read Kamp's review, dammit, I realize that trying to make sense of the Real Neal/Pretend Neal thing is going to be more challenging than understanding the Good Kirk/Bad Kirk plot of "The Enemy Within."
I can't convince myself to buy your book, Mr. Pollack. Particularly when there are, apparently, multiple versions of "Pretend Neal" running around. I'm particularly troubled by the fact that you're described by Mr. Kamp as "yet another doughy, 35-ish white man with a goatee and thinning hair." How can any self-respecting reader come to terms with your book's comedic merits when they're faced with this description? And there are additional side effects here, Pollack. Don't try to shirk away from this, Pollack. "Real Neal" knows what's going on here, if you catch my drift. Because Mr. Kamp tells me that "Real Neal knows he's just going through the motions." Now thanks to Mr. Kamp's review, when I prepare my chocolate chip cookies on Tuesday morning for the Elks Lodge meeting, I'm going to see your face in every cookie.
I demand a cogent explanation. In fact, the entire world REQUIRES an explanation. I'm talking page numbers, specific passages, and a detailed list of the number of Pretend Neals that we readers have to keep track of.
Goddam you, Pollack. And God Bless the Informed Wisdom of David Kamp!
Troubled,
Edward Champion
Ode to a Catcher
FROM: Aine
I remember my interest first was lit
when the ball returned from third,
Imagining your hand deep inside that mitt
something low within me stirred
The feelings that surged as I watched your mask
Recalled other guys I’ve longed to do
In warm, damp memories I began to bask,
O Zorro! Boy Wonder! Jason too.
And yet, it wasn’t mysterious eyes alone
That made me into your next bedpost notch
No, the enigma that made me writhe and moan
were those cryptic gestures around your crotch.
Erotic Senryu on the Curse Classic That Wasn't, October 2003
FROM: Ian Carey
A hunka
Hunka
Burning-
Loss.
The Longing
FROM: Chad Stevens
There is a twisting and pulling deep inside
Slithering, groaning, moaning, urgent
As I sit without a playoff game
An Astros fan, bereft and turgid
Tingles turn cold and baseballs blue
Unrequited losses tug at my scrotum
Lapping with razor tipped tongues
Pouring salt in my wounded semen
In a park named after juice, crying, questioning
"The Fucking Brewers?"
Baseball Booty Call
FROM: Shauna McKenna
I saw you in the melee
of the seventh inning stretch
My breasts began to heave
My secret parts to fetch
Join me on the Jumbotron
For a bit of stadium fun
Knuckleball, doubleplay, genitals
How's that for a long home run.
Erotic Baseball Poem
FROM: Leonard Pierce
I. NOMAR GARCIACOMPULSIVE
Wrist. Wrist. Tighten.
Wrist. Wrist. Tighten.
Shoulder. Shoulder.
Tap helmet.
Toes. Toes.
Knock dust off one cleat.
Knock dust off other cleat.
Tap bat. Tap bat.
Swing once. Swing twice. Swing three times.
Ready for the pitch.
Neck. Neck. Gentle kisses.
Neck. Neck. Gentle kisses.
Under the arm. Under the arm.
Lick bellybutton.
Nipples. Nipples.
Grab one cheek.
Grab the other cheek.
Brush thighs. Brush thighs.
Bite once. Bite twice. Bite three times.
Ready for entry, captain.
II. TOO LITTLE, TOO LATE
Oh my God. Oh.
Hit it. Hit it again.
Hit it again. Oh, God, please.
Oh.
Pull out, Grady!
Pull out! Before it's too late!
Too late.
III. LIMERICK, IRELAND
This fellow named David Ortiz
Has a rep as a very big tease
Well, he may be a dick,
But when swinging his stick
He swings hard, and he's aiming to please.
Snipe Hunt
FROM: Bill
Everyone on daily deadline deserves a pass now and then, even when they rattle their tin pencil cup every single day of the week. But this morning's broadside was one too many who-gives-a-flying-fuck tempest in a teabagger.
Reviewing has a long and dishonored history as a corrupting hussle, one that predates Gutenberg by a long stretch.
For a hilarious take on the theme from the 50s...
http://www.bobkaye.com/ilibertine.html
http://www.sniggle.net/libertine.php
Personally, I solved the problem long ago by refusing to publish twice under the same name and never ever employing my given name. Reviewers are unfailing kind to 'first time' novelists. Last time out, one astute and encouraging soul even compared my work favorably to another up-and-comer. Me.
If I did it for the money, I might think different, different enough to call for the cookie truck.
Bill
FROM: Emma
Hello! A small objection from an enthusiastic fan regarding your endorsement of snarkwatch: don't you think, if you pretend for a moment that you're not friends with anyone involved, that what publishing in the states needs is *more* snarkiness, not less? I loathe the nytimes book review, for example, because it's hardly ever (colson whitehead excepting) nasty, critical, or even honest. Reading it is an incredibly boring endeavor. Book reviewing in this country usually consists of little more than book reporting. Importing some of the uk's brand of gloves-off reviewing would pump a bit of excitement into the industry!
yours faithfully,
Emma
So what you're saying is that the word "snark" is egregiously overused
FROM: Jim
Totally. Hey, do you know Tom Bissell? I really liked his piece in Salon about how he loves fine literature but also speed metal and slasher flicks. I'm kind of the opposite. I have some snooty tastes as far as music and movies, but that list of authors he rattled off just made me tired. I'd rather read a comic or a James Ellroy novel or something. Everybody's got their blind spots, I guess. Which are only "blind spots" to everybody else.
Proposal From A Theater Man
FROM: Rohit Gupta
Dear Mr. Pollack, Congratulations on your continuing chainsaw massacre. My own introduction is summarised below. I still need it, unlike you. Very well then. I just finished writing my play, with Irish writer Emmet Cole, titled "The Indestructible Sandwich", on the Iraq 'war'. No, I'm not trying to use you to sell it. My plans are far more sinister. In the meantime, I read your blog and was impressed by its theatrical content. The idea that your entries could be adapted to a stage satire is brewing in my head. I'll need a nod or wink from you to even start thinking about using your material for this format, now, wouldn't I? What are your thoughts on the matter?
