The Gut Manifesto

Little diddy we did about Dusty's. WACSO.

Pints and Jameson and nooks and crannies. Another piece WACSO and I worked on for Heavy Table.

Why don't you see interviews like this anymore? Watch all three parts.

WACSO and I did another piece for Heavy Table. We covered Bonnie's Cafe in St. Paul. I'm still digesting.

A while back WACSO and I went to The Gopher Bar and documented what happened. The result is posted at Heavy Table. Warning: This article is not for the faint of heart, but neither is The Gopher Bar. If you're at all offended by cussin', don't even think about clicking this link. And remember, I wasn't the one who said these things. I just documented it. Don't kill the messenger.

First, check this out. It's Roger Ebert writing about the virtues of real movie audiences versus industry types...

There is also the matter of how people laugh: Are they responding, or informing? At the Music Box, the audience seemed to respond as an organic whole. At most festivals and all industry screenings, they seem made more of individual voices essentially saying: "I'm instructing you that that was funny."

Sometimes a writer just nails it, distilling an idea into a simple, perfect passage. Ebert does this time and again.

Like almost everyone I know, I grew up knowing Roger Ebert as one half of the two thumbs. The fat one. A talker, not a writer.

Then somehow I ended up reading this incredible post on his blog. Then recently I read this Esquire piece about him. Then his perfect response to that piece. Then an article Ebert himself linked to written by a journalist imploring other journalists to take the Esquire piece as a call to arms. Then I began following him on Twitter. Basically, I'm stalking Roger Ebert. Call the cops.

Now I know Ebert as he really is. A writer, not a talker.

If I could reverse time and change the events that lead to his current condition, I would. But I'd do it with the bittersweet knowledge that the world may never get a chance to met this side of him. And that would suck.

You don't have to love movies, to love his blog.

Hughes was shaken by John Candy’s sudden death, of a heart attack, in 1994. “He talked a lot about how much he loved Candy—if Candy had lived longer, I think John would have made more films as a director,” says the actor Vince Vaughn, a fellow Lake Forester and one of the few show-business people with whom Hughes was friends in recent years.

So come on science! It's up to you. Seriously, how hard can it be to bring someone back from the dead?

Suddenly, I have the urge to grow a mustache and grab a guitar and drive a conversion van to some beach in California.

What happened to my bonus? What happened to my job? What happened to my country? Why can't it all go the way it's supposed to go? You mean having a kid won't solve my marriage problems? Why don't these drugs make me feel better? Where's that goddamn waiter with my salad? Have you seen the stupid weather today? Is this really all there is?

These are, from what I can glean, the most important questions of the day, of the month, of modern life itself. Hell, what with the economy and job situation, the housing market and the overall feel and texture of the nation right now, it's no wonder Americans are, by and large, a goddamn miserable bunch. We don't like anything right now. No politician, no decision, no situation, no inhale, no exhale. We are sick to death of all of it, including ourselves.

This is fantastic. An absolute must read for bitter, angry, disappointed people like you. (via kottke.org)