It’s the 251 digest, and reader Marco has another question:
It was so nice bumping into you last week! Though I was shocked by your appearance. Don’t you have a decent pair of pants? A shirt that actually fits? I thought writers were supposed to look decent.
Some writers definitely know how to dress. Those would be “hot” writers who have “Splashy Debuts” and “MFAs from Iowa” and “Are Appropriately Proportioned.”
SUBSCRIBE AND/OR DIE!!!!!!!
Alas, I am not such a writer. Thanks to my Wacky Inflatable Tube Man build, kids in high school called me “Daddy Longarms.” My physique has been sincerely compared to a Muppet’s. I’ve never bought a shirt in a store that actually fits me, and I fell out of love with clothing quite a long time ago.
Still, that’s only part of the story.
The rest of what I’d want to say is said better by David Guzman in his piece “Why I Am Disheveled,” delivered to you here in two tidy images:
In other 251 news, Arun Durvasula gets +5 Bystander Bucks for including an angry animal in his cartoon. Don’t spend it all in one place, Arun! Or else!
SHARE AND/OR DIE!!!!!!!!!!!
Back to looking good and being hot: especially as you grow older, this is the most important thing. Melissa Balmain and I are very much on the same page about this.
Thus, “COVER GRRRL”:
At 81, “in what some may consider the ultimate stroke of bravado, [Martha] Stewart appears on one of the four covers of the storied Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue…”
—The New York Times
The ultimate stroke of bravado—
art fit for the Louvre or the Prado—
might come if the folks at SI
reconsidered their urge to supply
us with freakishly fab senior hotties.
Who needs a high priest of Pilates,
waxed smooth as a freshly peeled grape,
every pore in professional shape,
who’s been spray-tanned and shot full of filler
and starved of all foods that might thrill her
(the sort she instructs us to make,
like her “rich, creamy cheesecake… no-bake!”)?
What delight would it give us to waddle
by magazine racks where the model—
un-airbrushed from pupils to pits,
string-bikinied—was Fran Lebowitz?
And finally, do yourself a favor and check out “A Hipster Ghost is Haunting My Apartment” by Lee Blevins, along with everything else on 251.
SPONSORED CONTENT
Michael Pershan has been asking Mike Gerber for permission to share his own opinions in the Substack. MG said, sure, for $100. MP said he’s good for it but is waiting for a check to clear. MG upped it to $150 because “whining wastes my time.” MP apologized and cried. Here is MP’s $150 opinion:
In my opinion, the song “Black Earth, WI” by Chicago-based rock outfit Ratboys is well worth your time.
COME ON BABY, DO THE SELF-PROMOTION
I keep telling you people to promote yourselves—shoutout Jeff, Shaggy, Wabi, Andrew who answered the call—but am I promoting myself?
Yes, I am. But I can do better.
I am a writer, editor, teacher, father, husband, son, brother, lawyer, dancer, scholar, and dermatologist—though not in that order (father comes last)!
I split my time between New York and Florence and San Francisco and also Paris. During the summer we visit my family’s place on The Island. We have another home that we borrow up on The Cove when we just need to get away from The Island. My buddy lives up on The Cape, but that’s neither here nor there.
I am the three-time winner of this. I have received these honors and fellowships. My recent publications include this, this, this, this, and that—and hopefully those links are all working now.
But, most importantly, I am super, duper hot.
NOW: let’s hear your self-promotion, folks. Or, at the very least, your $150 opinions.
