The Magnum Dopus

So yeah -- I was going to post some of it. Really. The thing is sitting on my desk, staring up at me like a big red tumor with acknowledgments.

But I've reconsidered. I'm sorry. I just finished Exit Ghost -- weird but good and not nearly the grundelfluck Hitchens says it is ( see his Atlantic review from a couple of months ago, if you're looking for an alternative to suicide) -- and have knocked off 60 pages of Armies of the Night... and, well, skimming Pantload's magnum dopus* in the shadow of Roth and Mailer is really, really painful. Like, moreso than it would be otherwise. Here:

Peter Gibbons: So I was sitting in my cubicle today, and I realized, ever since I started working, every single day of my life has been worse than the day before it. So that means that every single day that you see me, that's on the worst day of my life.

Like that, except that instead of life it's pages of Pantload's book. So you see what an existential horror this is?

So that's my excuse.

*A big mwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! on the cheek to whomever can find the first instance of this as applies to LF. Leave in comments.