Old Vice

     As of this writing, I have reached the age of fifty. Old age is rapidly approaching, like the speeding of a comet destined to wipe out the woolly mammoth, which I suppose in this case is a metaphor for bone density or something. I’m too old to care if I’m writing good.

Vest Pocket Holtism

You, the addled, tweet-stuffed denizens of social media, grimace at the conglomerations of excess wordage we once called "books" and proclaim, "TLDR!"

To you I offer this tiny slice of gourmet paragraphy, this smidgen of typeset delight - slightly longer than a drunk-text of angry emojis, but significantly shorter than Cervantes.

And this slender volume, this pocket digest of wit and wisdom, written and somewhat perversely illustrated by my own self, is but a mere $5.

A quick click of the link below, speedy delivery to your door, swift consumption of these memorable essays, and you're right back to flame wars about transgender bathrooms while you binge-watch your Cumberbatch whathaveyou.

"A Blackbelt in Quitting": The book that doesn't waste your time!

Order this vital-yet-semi-disposable book of knowledge here

Will Work for Fools

  

     During high school, in the depths of the 1980’s, my friend Gnat got a job working at the Guitar Exchange. It was a local retail establishment, a music shop about the size of a storage shed, which served as a hangout for teenage stoners with Van Halenian aspirations. Gnat being just such a guitar-shredding, heavy metal acolyte, this seemed the perfect environment for him to pretend to be gainfully employed.