Clown Shoes

When Hack first saw the ridiculous golden sneakers that Donald Trump was selling for $399 a pop, he became so violently ill that he awoke days later in a pool of his own vomit. As he trudged to the bathroom to hose himself off, he regarded the puke caked to his feet and concluded that it looked much better that Trump’s stupid, overpriced shoes.

Murder at the Nudist Colony

Happy heavenly birthday to the great Burt Lancaster!

Honestly, Hack just wanted to write a book titled “Murder at the Nudist Colony” and when he found out Lancaster’s birthday coincided with its release date, he just had the cover artist redo the cover with the actor in his Elmer Gantry role as the victim. The story is more about Jonny the detective running around the nudie colony seducing the women who stay there.

Yammering Yenta

An excerpt:

Dating the Yenta was like dating a loaded .45 — aimed at your own head. You never knew when it would go off. You just knew it would be messy when it did. And the odds were better than 50-50 they’d be scrapping your brain and guts off something, even while her mouth was still running.

“It will be fun,” she said. These were the words she always said right before I would be sucker punched in the gut by someone whose life and conduct she couldn’t help critiquing. In this case, “It will be fun” was said while gazing at the door of a dive bar whose clientele had spent most of their food stamp money this week on MAGA apparel.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

But then I saw that grand canyon of a mouth start to open, and I knew I had no choice.

“Sure,” I continued. “Let’s check it out.”

My spleen and my teeth would be the least of my losses that day. So sit back, and hear the story of how I ended up on Death Row, while the Yammering Yenta became the widow of one Rudy Guiliani, and then the lover of one E. Jean Carroll. But I’m getting ahead of myself.