Yes, for some reason this week’s Week That Perished didn’t run.
Look, I’m a coward, okay? What do I harp on if not my unemployability? I have ONE job - Takimag. And I try to keep my head down and not ask questions. Because I’m literally so scared of losing my ONLY POSSIBLE source of income, if something goes wrong that might require an uncomfortable email to admins, I drink two liters of rum, curl up in a ball in my bed, and dream of this girl named Kim from high school who was and always will be the most stunning perfect blonde chick I ever knew and she totally came on to me but I rejected her because I was dating her friend and also I kinda thought she was simple and white-trashy so I felt “better n’ her” because I was the hotshot smartass Jew and so these days when I want to escape my unpleasant present that’s where I retreat to in my mind - 1985 and Kim pulling me into the auditorium restroom for an “alone” moment and me rejecting her like the biggest asshole since the monstrous fudge-spewing appendage that lurked under Louie Anderson’s 10xxl canvas pants.
I replay that moment in my mind, but this time doing it right. And it gives me comfort.
But, I promised you people three Substacks a week! And gosh all git up, I’m not gonna let you down.
Because I love you guys. You’ve made Substack even more fun for me than Twitter was.
I don't know much, but I know I love you
And that may be all I need to know
(proceeds to drink an entire bottle of Lysol thinking it’s Gatorade)
I’d like to amend, my previous statement
Knowing Lysol from Gatorade is something else
I need to know
So since I have no Week, and as I just mentioned 1985, here’s something fun for today’s post.
If you think I’m insufferable now, you should’a seen me at 15. My AP history teacher, who was a member of something that I think was called the Hollywood Women’s Political Coalition or the Hollywood Wives Political Assembly or the Nagging Harpy Harridans Annoyance Agency asked me to film an anti-nuke-yoo-lar event in Downtown L.A. commemorating the 40th anniversary of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. At the time, I was one of the few kids with a self-contained camcorder, plus I was the hotshot Jew in a black school.
There’s THREE HOURS of this shit. I interview Mayor Tom Bradley, Pam Dawber, and Lindsay Wagner.
The timeless greats.
But here’s just a few minutes for you.
Be honest - you’d have punched me. And by God I wish you had.
And perhaps the bigger point is, yes, in 1985 nobody Downtown spoke English. And this was BEFORE Reagan’s amnesty. It’s just the way it was. It’s NOT a recent thing.
Will The Week return?
No idea. But you can still buy me a beer. I may just need that dough now more than ever.
“I shall read!” - David Christopher Cole
And thus, a star is born.
David, your video gave me a ray of sunshine on a rather dismal day here in the Lone Star State. In addition to the dating market being shitty, I was recommended by my therapist that perhaps I enjoy the gin way too much for an Anglo. So, ol’ Mikey is going sober. Looks like I’ll be drinking tomato juice the next time I hit the bar. Maybe it’ll help get my deadlift up at least.
Which reminds me. The next time I itch for a beer, maybe I should just buy you one instead.
As always, David, keep shining you crazy diamond.
As a dedicated reader of the Sunday column, I was a bit surprised and disappointed to find it missing on Takimag. But I thought maybe Dave’s taking some time off or on vacation. Then I came to my senses (I had imbibed a bit too much of Kentucky’s finest on Derby day) and remembered that Dave never leaves his house, and, other than a bit of small game hunting, seems to do little else. So I’m sincerely hoping that we’re not adding Dave’s name to that of Goad and Derbyshire as great former contributors.