Oh, man. I just read The Tetherballs of Bougainville by Mark Leyner. I can't remember the last time I laughed out loud so many times from a book. The book is way too absurd to try and summarize, but Leyner is like the bastard child (or maybe father to be more accurate) of George Saunders and John Hodgeman. I'm so glad I gave Leyner another chance, as I didn't like my first encounter with him, My Cousin My Gastroenterologist, which seemed to be weird just for the sake of being weird. But Tetherballs, man, it's just brilliant.
To wit:
"Any asshole with a Masters in Social Work can put on a turban and start issuing fatwas about whom you can and whom you can't mail meat to, but it takes real balls to turn a brunette without a cranium into a blond."
"I don't know about you, but I hate the goddamn beach. I lie there, I feel like a fucking cutlet- drenched in oil, coated in sand, and frying. That's a vacation?"
"Maybe you don't really appreciate your father until he has huge tits".
I must be un-literate, because I thought of George Sanders when I read George Sanders. Ah, the literary classics of Les Nessman
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