Rewrite This; F Rick Perry

 

So. I got tired of rewriting my book and decided to instead write about rewriting it. Turns out I much prefer writing to rewriting. Writing involves all of that free-thought process that I am so good at.

Rewriting requires focus, organization and skill.

So, basically, I’m fucked. Here’s what happened.

I’m working this morning, rewriting this story in Chapter One about when I met Sunny, my almost eleventh wife. You don’t know Sunny because she’s in the book and I’m not supposed to talk about her.

Anyway, Sunny is attending an Austin City Council meeting as the first assignment on her new TV reporting job. Sunny’s fighting with Sparky Shanks to get good position to interview me, and everything goes to shit. I mean in the book things just fall apart. Austinites will remember Sparky as a former reporter for ABC TV.

I’m rethinking and rewriting and sipping on a cold Carta Blanca beer when my mind drifts off on a little tangent. Remember when I told you about that trip we took down to deep central Mexico when Streaker Jones and I were boys?

Well, I had a dream that the young Mexican girl that might have married on that trip came to Austin to move in with me. She came to find me because the economy down there is so bad, and she brought her entire extended family.

Next thing I know, I’ve written 8,000 words worth of dream insertions into the first three chapters of my book. I just thought it was unreadable before.

But here’s the thing. In this dream, she came back as the same age as when I met her all those many years ago. She came back precisely as I remember from way back. Why is that? Why didn’t she age before looking me up?

And I want to say this. Rick Perry is still an ignorant fuckball. That would be Governor Rick Perry and not my beloved ostrich.

This bozo’s political ads make me want to puke. Yet polls are saying that women like him better than the Democratic candidate this time. Even that a larger percentage of women favor Perry than men do.

Sounds like I need to rethink my opinion on how women are smarter than men. Sounds like I need another Carta Blanca.

Manana, y’all.

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