Egads, the things I’ve seen this week, precious readers! There is not enough space on the internet to accommodate my story, but I will try to meet the challenge.
So you see, America is “big in Japan.” Behold. I believe this image speaks for itself.
I would just like to point out that some of the more reputable journalistic establishments of the present day have faced the facts. Of course, you have already guessed that I am referring to the Huffington Post and New York Daily News, both of which have noted the presence of a quite large, shaggy, white-haired biped (of the sort who might really benefit from a manicure and some Warby Parker experimentation, but let me stay on topic here) wandering the slopes of a ski resort in the Spanish Pyrenees.
See here – “Hey, Even A Yeti Needs To Pee.”
I’m sorry to say, they do. But sasquatches do not. At least not regularly. I haven’t been to a restroom since the California gold rush. And that is not a euphemism.
“The only giant monster you are destined to become is the huge freak you decide to be.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson’s advice, revised and edited for verity and practicality by yours truly. If this raises your spirits, then we (Ralph and I) have succeeded. Let me know @City_Sasquatch
Let me direct your attention to Sunset Primary School’s Sasquatch Reading Award List for 2015. My thanks go out to the administrators of this Pacific Northwest school for their support. Though I have not written any of the honorable volumes on this list (my tell-all memoir is forthcoming, Lorin Stein, tweet me), my name in the headline does seem to imply that my existence was integral to its compilation, and, indeed, to all reading that goes on in the great state of Washington.
Some highlights from Sunset Primary School’s esteemed list include The Sasquatch Escape, Star Wars: Jedi Academy, and My Brother’s A Big, Fat Liar.
Of course I will be taking part in this year’s Sasquatch Survival Reading Challenge. Don’t think I won’t. I expect to breeze through this competition, as everyone knows that third graders eyeballs are significantly smaller than mine, and therefore less capable. Let the contest begin!
A doff of the cap to Esquire for their timely Halloween blog post, “The 10 Most Entertaining Films About Bigfoot.” The very interesting travel/food/screen writer and cat appreciator Garin Pirnia (@) gives us a list of titles ranging from horror to comedy to dram-edy.
I know you’re wondering – did I get a handsome paycheck for my roles in any of these films? Well, I would not want to disappoint you, but I’m afraid my visage has not graced the screen as of yet. Still my acting talents remain un-mined, like a salami sandwich buried under 3 feet of dirt. Or Bob Sagat. However,I did audition for a role as an extra in the movie, Legally Blonde… I wanted to be juror #4, but alas, it was not to be. I suspect the director did not want his starlet, Mlle. Witherspoon, shown up by the likes of this handsome devil.
Dear reader, I have a challenge for you. Email (Chet@humanoid.net) or twit (@) me your suggestions for movies that would have been better if I had played a lead role.
That’s my cousin Earl. The blurry shape. Yeah, that’s him. See the resemblance?
This week one of my favorite bookstores for lurking, McNally Jackson, hosted the humble and charming writer, Mark Chiusano (@). He visited McNally to discuss his debut story collection, Marine Park, with the prudent Dave Daley, Editor-In-Chief of Salon.com. Though I have not yet had the pleasure of reading the book, I’ve heard many good things about it – since my ear is to the ground, as usual. “Subtle, tender, [and] emotionally powerful,” says buzzworthy Whiting Awardee Said Sayrafiezadeh of Marine Park. After having heard the modesty and aplomb of Chiusano’s comments, I will surely seek out his book poste haste.
A giddy and knowing crowd – some of whom, I surmise, traveled all the way from the real Marine Park – applauded and blushed at the author’s mention of the beloved Brooklyn neighborhood, sandwiched as it is between the Rockaways, Sheepshead Bay, and Brighton Beach. By the end of the reading I felt I, too, had developed a certain fondness for fresh-faced, first-generation Russian immigrants and their children, struggling to form an identity amid the changing landscape of topsy-turvy Brooklyn.
How could I not? The difficult truth is that I know what it is like to be marginalized, relegated to the boundaries of society, as though I were some bizarre creature, posing an existential quandary to the law-abiding mainstream citizen. Anti-bigfoot prejudice is still rampant in our world today. It may shock you to hear, dear reader, but I am not one to shirk the truth. I am here to deliver it to you, gasping and red-faced, like a squalling newborn. Here she is – truth. Spank her lightly upon the rear, if you must! She breathes, for she is real. You will make what you will of her, as we all must.
Purchase Marine Park from Amazon.com. Or better yet, your local, independent tome hawker.
A bit homesick today. I used to love burying my snout in the loam on a crisp winter night. The feel of sleet and icy rain on my pelt. The spongy taste of hemlock bark on my tongue. Ah! those were the days.
But one cannot look back without looking forward as well. Every morning in the city brings with it new sights and scents. For example, today I awoke to the unmistakable odor of human sweat, which seems to permeate every nook and cranny of this wondrous place. On the corner I discovered a little bowlegged fellow manning a fruit stand. When I requested three bushels of his finest bananas, the scoundrel took off and went sprinting down the middle of 14th Street.
What strange beasts men are. I must learn their ways…
It's hard being a teenager, especially when you're 30
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