I don't really like his voice, actually, or his radio show. But the little essays he writes in Salon are the best thing on the entire internets.
Call me Hrothgar the Savage, but when I look at men's fashions in magazines, the models all sullen and sensitive and obviously spending much too much time on their hair, wearing sweaters made from Persian cat fur woven with feathers of snowy owls, yours for $1,495, I feel a strong urge to put on a parka and insulated pants and walk out onto a frozen lake and cut a hole in the ice and fish.
I felt the urge rather strongly the other morning as I drove along the Mississippi River in Minneapolis, which was frozen over, while listening to a man talk on the radio about a book he'd written in which he explored his feelings about his father, whom he'd never felt close to. I said to him, "Oh, get over it." The ice is a good place for a man to go rather than waste time writing books about not knowing your father.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
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2 comments:
Yeah, the guy's got a style that's admirably stodgy, but if I ever have to hear his nose whistle into the microphone while he tells another goddamn story about Ole Olaffsson and how his attempt to bake a fucking apple pie for the local AmVets Bake Sale ended in hilarious disaster, I am just going to lose it.
Ever see the Simpsons episode where Homer and Bart are watching some sort of televised reading of "Prairie Home Companion" and the people in the audience are laughing at everything but it's not really that funny so Homer gets up and starts hitting the top of the television with his palm, shouting, "Be funnier! Be funnier!"
Yeah. That's pretty much how I feel. i.e., I get you.
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