A few nights ago I was listening to a really good, but criminally obscure power pop album. This one right here. I have both of his CDs, and they’re equally fantastic. And since it had been a while, I checked the internet to see if he’s working on anything new.
And yeah, he committed suicide last April… How’s that for a kick to the onions? Not exactly the kind of “project” I had in mind.
On April 15, 2005, Adkins was deliberately run over in his front yard by a teenager on an ATV. The perpetrator was apprehended by police (after running over another person a short distance down the road from Adkins’ house), and Adkins identified him in a picture the police showed him. Ten days later, on April 25, Adkins was found dead in his home.
WTF?? Is that what they’re doing in Boone County for fun these days? Deliberately running over random people in their yards with gasoline-powered hick machines? Good god.
I read both of these stories on the same evening, and it was an uplifting experience. Truly uplifting.
My new agent (I won’t bore you with the details) gave me a homework assignment a few weeks ago, and I’m reading several humorous memoirs. I’m almost finished with House of Cards, about an inexperienced guy who moved to the sprawling metropolis of Kansas City, and went to work at Hallmark. It’s really good, and funny.
Before that one, I read Supserstud by Paul Feig. Feig (an unfortunate name) created the TV show Freaks and Geeks, which was a masterpiece. And his book is about his struggle with the opposite sex, during his teenage years and early twenties. There are plenty of cringe-worthy moments, and I highly recommend it.
Near the end is a full chapter about his ill-conceived attempt to, you know… blow himself. He was nearly rendered a quadriplegic during the process, and the whole thing is funny as hell. But can you imagine putting something like that into a book? Where your friends and relatives can read it?
I can’t think of anything from my past that would, um, rise to the same level. But if there was… yeah, I’d probably write about it, too. Then never leave the house again.
If any of you want to make any Feig-like confessions today, please use the comments link below. Supposedly it’ll make you feel better, so have at it.
Also, can you recommend any funny autobiographical books? Obviously, I’m preparing for something here… I’m in training.
I’m really hungry right now, and there’s not a single Miranda Cosgrove frozen meal under the roof. I guess I could make myself a sandwich, or something. But that would require assemblage, and it just seems like one gigantic hassle to me.
Yeah, I’m lazy. What of it? That’s why Wendy’s offers the number one with cheese, no pickles, and a Coke. For folks like me! God, how I love ’em.
I’m going to leave you now with a stoopid Question that might or might not work. I’d like to know your all-time favorite dumbass TV sitcom catch-phrase. You know, like Fonzie’s “Heyyyy!” and J.J.’s “I am kid dy-no-mite!”
Heh. Do any of you remember a show from the ’70s called Carter Country? There was a fat poofter gentleman on there, possibly the mayor, who always said, “Handle it! Handle it!” to his underlings. That’s what gets my vote.
So, do with that what you can. And I’m going to go pay someone to build me a lunch now.
See you guys next time.