Demented Writer, 43, Seeks Readers With Brain Damage

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I’m a small-time author you probably haven’t heard of. When you do hear of me, and you will, it’ll either be from Publisher’s Weekly or the local news. I’m white and overweight with a beard and glasses which means I’m indistinguishable from at least two of the guys behind the Geek Squad counter at your local Best Buy. I’m ugly, but not so ugly that I have to tie a bell around my neck to let the villagers know when I’m coming. I have three kids who don’t look like me and a Mexican wife, Silvia, who also doesn’t look like me. Silvia speaks Spanish, I don’t, which affords me the luxury of imagining she’s saying nice things even when she’s hitting me with a Chancla, the preferred weapon of Mexican housewives everywhere. She’s here legally, I think, but to be safe, let’s not tell Trump.

I like to write about maiming characters who enjoy sunsets and long walks on the beach. My writing might be described as Douglas Adams by way of Vonnegut, wrapped in Palahniuk, served on a bed of Christopher Moore, and drizzled with a little Cormac McCarthy. If you have no idea what that means, you’re my kind of reader. And if you see the humor in the pervasive absurdity of all facets of human existence, that against astronomical odds we are cosmic accidents, ape’s descendants hellbent on finding meaning in a meaningless universe, you too, are my kind of reader

Other qualities I look for:

  • You’re serious about not taking things seriously.
  • You are or should be on meds.
  • You pray, but only to tell God to get his shit together.
  • You think the word “fuck” transcends all other verbs.
  • You enjoy literature you have to hide when your mother is coming.
  • You think Halloween is the loveliest holiday and Valentine’s the scariest.
  • Your bucket list includes “strangle a one-percenter with his own entrails.”
  • You think Friends should have concluded with a Ross-Rachel Murder-Suicide.

Still with me? Great! Have I got a book for you…

When The Author Is Dead is released on October 1, 2018, you can find it wherever obscure literature is sold. If you happen to spot me signing books, please understand that they’re not my books I’m signing, so don’t get any ideas. I’m just forging the signatures of famous authors onto literature they didn’t write.

Let’s be friends!


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