Chet Haze is an interesting example of the perils of privilege. If he weren't the son of a celebrated actor, he would probably not be an object of ridicule. That isn't to say that this isn't ridiculous, but it might have been stopped early by a friend who cared more about Chet-the-person than Chet-the-connection-to-Tom-Hanks-and-money. Maybe.
When I think of Kristen Schaal, I think of many things, most of which involve sexy sex. This makes it awkward when I watch Bob's Burgers, because these sexy thoughts inappropriately intrude while I'm laughing at the antics of her hilariously precocious, very very young character. Ian's innate sexiness doesn't help the situation one bit.
On a related note, my karaoke-hosting friend created a karaoke version of the Bed Intruder song at my request. I shall be performing it on Saturday, and there might be video available online.
For the record, I never felt bad about laughing at Antoine Dodson. And trampoline accidents make me wince also, since my mother tore her ACL on a trampoline. I still watch them over and over again, but I wince while doing it.
David Foster Wallace is able to express ideas and emotions and concepts in a context that is elegant in its specificity while maintaining a recognition of its limitations. He doesn't just present these concepts and ask the reader to consider them. He wraps them into a world and presents the whole world, with excruciatingly beautiful detail.
David Eggers is kind of funny.
I've never read anything by Franzen.
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