Anthony Neil Smith has hijacked my blog and wants to tell you this:
Last Stop: Smith’s Crimedog One
Holy hell, I finally made it. It was grueling and I’m delirious, but we’re now at the Blogpocalypse, where we find Gischler smoking a giant cigar and grilling up some BBQ ribs for the road. Add another set of golf clubs to the bed of the Big Red Truck, plus the most giantest case of Coors Light I’ve ever seen.
Now, Gischler’s got a new novel out in a couple of months. It’s called Go Go Girls of the Apocalypse, and I have to say that when you compare his book to the recent spate of post-apocalyptic literary novels that serve as both social commentaries on our own culture and prophetic cautionary tales, his is by far the silliest. And if your post-apocalypse ain’t silly, then you’ve got a giant stick up your ass. Do yourself a favor and hunt this one down, especially if you live in Texas and can make it out to one of our scheduled signings for July in San Antonio, Austin (along with Justin C. Gordon from Out of the Gutter), Dallas, and Houston.
The price of gas on this trip might make that end of the world scenario feel closer than ever, so in that case we’ll just have to turn the music up louder as we fill the tank, oblivious to the little digital numbers climbing higher and higher. So maybe when you’re shortening your vacation this year because it costs waaaaay too fucking much to go, like, anywhere, you can give yourself a “mental vacation” by purchasing Yellow Medicine at Barnes & Noble (or their website…and only if you have no super cool indie stores around, because they should come first), and indulge in the exploits of Deputy Billy Lafitte, a Mississippian exiled in Minnesota after Katrina, hoping his Southern charm can melt some of those frosty Northern attitudes in order to better con them. That guy, I’m telling you, he’s headed for trouble.
Next stop, the dead literal center of the heartland (okay, maybe not “literally”, but play along anyway)--Omaha, Nebraska, to pick up our good friend and third Stooge, the famous Sean Doolittle.
Driving time: 14 hours (but that’s only Daylight Savings Time, and only with a good watch battery) Tune for this leg: “Caledonia” by The Gourds (as it is for every road trip we’ve been on for the past eight years)