Men don't talk together. When they are in pack (or crew, to use the parlance of their creed), they do stuff. They watch hockey, drink beer, hunt (for women or game). Rarely, they talk. Their conversations are often stupid. For example:
"For one million dollar, would you do it with another man?"
One of the recurring male discussion is the eventuality of a zombie outbreak. I am proud to affirm that I am (like most males), ready for a possible invasion of the living dead. BUT (there'salways a but), what if the dead remain dead and the garden gnomes that threaten to take over instead? I have never thought about it so far (neither did anyone else), but when Chuck Sambuchino (yes, THE Chuck Sambuchino) raised the possibility I saw like: "Fuckin' A man. What DO I do if it happens?"
That's when I asked him for a review copy. At first he said: "No, you chump" and then he read terror in my eyes, the terror of the unknown he added: "Only kiddin' Rocky".
Chuck's that kind of guy. Sneaky and generous.
But hey! He's the the lucky one. He will have the REVIEWED BY DEAD END FOLLIES seal of excellence on his book.
