Authors: Paul Davidson
The Lost Blogs
Copyright © 2006 by Paul Davidson
All rights reserved.
Warner Books
Hachette Book Group
237 Park Avenue
New York, NY 10017
Visit our website at
www.HachetteBookGroup.com
.
First eBook Edition: November 2009
ISBN: 978-0-446-56970-5
Contents
May the thanking portion of this book begin…
now
.
First and foremost I would like to thank my agent, Arielle Eckstut, from the Levine Greenberg Agency. Arielle has been there
for me through thick and thin (weeks 1–3 of the South Beach Diet) and has been a supportive, knowledgeable partner in crime.
And although we actually never participated in any real
actual
crimes together (except the liberating of a pack of gum from an undisclosed location), I would still rather die than tell
anyone our secrets. I’m trained like that. Go ahead and try me. I would also like to thank my editor, Jason Pinter, from Warner
Books, for his sense of humor, his knowledge of dead historical people, and his passion for the content herein. Or therein.
(If
herein
refers to past tense then use that. If
therein
is the right word, use that instead.) He has been a pleasure to work with and nothing like the evil editors you read about
in Page Six. Except, come to think of it, he does have one of those knives holstered just above his left knee, but he says
that’s for peeling apples and I’m inclined to believe him.
I would like to thank my manager, Chris Emerson. I would like to thank my agent, Craig Kestel, at the William Morris Agency.
I would like to thank their assistants. And the companies that flip the switch to allow their cell phones to work, which in
turn allows them to talk to me. I would like to thank the guy who invented phones, who happens to be included in this book,
and I would like to thank book people in general, for liking books and reading books and using them to prop up rickety old
tables that have that wobbly disease going on. (If you use this book for that and I find out I will not be thanking you in
the next book.)
I would like to thank the people who had conversations with me that went a little something like this:
M
E
:
Have you ever heard of Abe Vigoda?
T
HEM
:
No, who’s Abe Vigoda?
M
E
:
The guy from that old TV show Fish and Barney Miller
.
T
HEM
:
There was a TV show called Fish? That’s so funny
.
M
E
:
Yeah, Bea Arthur was in it
.
T
HEM
:
Oh, I don’t like Bea Arthur
.
M
E
:
Fine, but do you think I should include Abe Vigoda in the book?
T
HEM
:
Who’s Abe Vigoda again?
I would like to thank Brigid Pearson, the talented designer who came up with the cover for the book. I would like to thank
the model whose body we used on the cover of the book because he looks as hairy as I suspect Abe Lincoln probably was. I would
like to thank the photographer who took the picture of the Abe Lincoln model for doing such a great lighting job and making
it look as tasteful as it does.
I would also like to thank Jeff and Mark Grammatke, Fabian Marquez, Brian Rousso, Kevin Kelly, Kristine Howard, Meagan Montisci,
Bob Castillo, Anna Maria Piluso, Elly Weisenberg, Daniel Greenberg, Mark Cuban, and all the frequent and not-so-frequent readers
of
Words for My Enjoyment
for their continued enthusiasm, support, and commentary. I would have thanked the guy to whom I had to send a ham after awarding
it as a prize for one of those online contests, but that ham cost over fifty bucks so that’s all the thanks he needs.
Finally, I would like to thank the family. Without thanking the family, I’m just the bastard who didn’t thank the family instead
of the guy who thanked the family and wrote a really funny book—so I should go ahead and thank them now: Thanks to Mom and
Dad for their support and almost unhealthy blind approval. Thanks to Sari, Matt, Jake, Bonnie, Harold, John, and Briel. Thanks
must also go out to the guy at the coffee shop who knows what I like to drink (and sometimes gives me two card punches when
no one is looking) and, therefore, should be categorized as family as well.
Finally, thanks must be heaped upon the one they call
Jennifer
. Normally, if you lived in a house with someone (me) who had spontaneous mood swings, talked in tongues, and often laughed
out loud about practically nothing all the time, you would call yourself a therapist, psychiatrist, or medical technician.
Jennifer, it seems, likes to go by the title
wife
. It seems that her loss is wholly my gain—and I love her for it.
[Insert end of thank you page theme music here. The one with the horns and harpsichord.]
From:
http://www.moses.com/blog/
Subject:
A Pretty Astounding Day
My previous entries concerning the burning bush and the locusts that descended upon Egypt can be read
here
and
here
. The reason behind mentioning such writings now is only so that you may fully grasp the majesty that is the Lord in the next
story I wish to share with all of you.
Please bear with me, children, as I am sending this entry from my holy portable communication device—so punctuation and proper
grammar may fail me. May the Lord forgive any of my shortcomings.
The
Free the Slaves of Egypt Webring
, which continues to function as I communicate with you today, has previously mentioned the plight of the Jewish people. You
have read about
the ten plagues
and yesterday’s
mass exodus out of Egypt
. Today I moblog to you from the other side of the Red Sea.
Yes, my children—you heard correctly. The
other side
of the Red Sea.
I stood before God’s waters with hundreds of thousands of our people by my side. The Egyptians, as previously mentioned in
yesterday’s
entry
, were closing in on us. There was no place to go. We were trapped.
Yet my faith in the Lord transformed the situation from hopeless to hope-filled.
Without warning, God caused the waters to part for the people of Israel. I took a few pictures with my holy portable communication
device, which includes a holy eye that can collect images which can be viewed
here
. The quality is not the best, but if you just feel one-half of the wonder that I felt—you will understand the feeling that
swept the crowd. There’s a close-up shot of me
here
waving at the Egyptians as they drowned in the rapidly filling sea. (You may not be able to fully see this in the pictures,
that’s why I must mention that once we were all safely across, the waters began to fill back in. It was a glorious moment.)
Now free of our bonds and of the Egyptians, we will make our way to Israel. I may not be posting as often over the next few
weeks, as I must conserve my holy communication device’s holy life of battery power for the important moments.
If you’re looking for something to read while I’m gone, please check out
Pharaoh’s Blog
, which will, I’m quite sure, contain some fairly amusing observations about yesterday’s incident involving me and the chosen
people of Israel.
From:
http://www.johnwilkesbooth.org/blog/
Subject:
A Mediocre Actor Am I?
As most of you well know by now (thanks to the consistent reporting over at the
Unofficial John Wilkes Booth Fan Club
) I have been acting out of the Arch Street Theatre here in Philadelphia.
The environment has not felt nurturing to say the least.
I am not getting along with William Fredericks, the acting and stage manager here at Arch Street. He has it out for me, along
with the rest of the actors here. Forgotten lines and missed cues are common mistakes in the world of acting. Why they must
single yours truly out each time a mistake is made is anyone’s guess. I am finding myself getting increasingly frustrated
with Fredericks—doesn’t he know how tough it is being an actor? I suspect they are whispering about me behind my back.
But before I forget—here is my new head shot:
John Wilkes Booth—“Dramatic”
The above head shot showcases my dramatic side, which I use to perform in plays by Shakespeare and the like. I enjoy such
dramatic pursuits. Aaah, drama.
Back to Arch Street. I know that all I can do is my best. But the art of theatre is filled with disappointment. But then again,
my colleagues should support me. They have it out for me, I suspect. They are, if I must be so bold to say—evil. There are
times I look at them that I see red: the red that one associates with the devil. Isn’t it strange, I have often wondered,
how one cannot spell the word devil without e, v, i, and I.
Something should be done about these unsupportive colleagues of mine.
However, dear readers—I would love your opinion on this second head shot I recently commissioned a photographer to take of
me…
John Wilkes Booth: “Comedic”
For those comedic roles—this picture showcases the lighthearted side of yours truly. The silly, carefree, happy side.
Weatley’s Arch Street Theatre is small potatoes. Do not think that my goal is to stay here and perform alongside malcontents
in a jealous rage. Fame, it seems, does not visit this part of the country. Now, Ford’s Theatre—that would be a wonderful
place to go, with (I suspect) very little drama of the offstage variety. Where anger would step aside in the name of entertainment.
Sometimes I just want to teach them all a lesson.
Nonetheless—in the meantime, please write me with your thoughts on my new investment—the wonderful head shots of which I have
previously highlighted. A third version, my “angry” head shot, can be viewed
here
.
From:
http://www.baberuth.com/blog/
Subject:
Baseball Ain’t About Singing Songs
If it wasn’t for baseball, I’d be in either the penitentiary or the cemetery. If it wasn’t for Red Sox owner/prick Harry Frazee
and his lack of backbone when it comes to his dame—I probably wouldn’t be packing my bag for New York right now…
Here’s a picture of my
ass
. I hope you know this is for you, Frazee.
Thanks for all the notes, people. The sentiment is good. Although I woulda taken half the money they pay me right now to continue
playing at Fenway, I guess all I’m worth to Frazee is cold hard cash. The kind that can help him get his girl’s musical off
the ground. Well, she stinks. Can’t sing a lick. Worst investment in the history of the world.