Also, the placenta stuff made me literally laugh out loud. I think it was some of your best writing, and can’t see why it was left out. I didn’t think it was overly graphic, you talk about placentas in pretty general, unspecific terms. Maybe it was the dildos/anal sex part?

PL: I take a page from Bob Weir on this issue: “Too much of everything is just enough.” If I’m drinking, I intend to get drunk, so the 8-12% abv on Imperials is perfect for me. And I’m vain. If I’m going to ingest a boatload of empty calories I’ll have to run off later, I want maximum flavor and buzz for the effort. Finally, I like a buzz to stomp in the front door and punch me in the face. The flat, bloated, oafish buzz one acquires from regular beer has never interested me. Two stiff bourbons and a couple imperials and you’re There. Six Pilsner Urquells and you’ve merely dyspeptic and tired.

On the placenta thing, the problem was the imagery being too intense for the beginning of the chapter. I have a problem with loading up too many crazy images in tight spaces. This can fuck up the flow of book – cause the reader to forget the story being told. We had the same problem with the epic discussion of pussy in “Hat Trick.” The shit’s really funny, and I have no problem stopping a narrative and doing standup, but you have to get the right balance. I think my editor here made the right call.

I just realized how sick I sound. Fuck it, no use hiding that.

In other news, I was just given The Ginger Man, Modern Manners, In Defense of Elitism, and The Great Derangement as a present (I asked for any one of them, got all. some people are very nice). Started The Ginger Man, its great. The writing is artful.

PL: Donleavy wrote that so well he was never able to put out anything else even approaching it. Screwed himself but good there. And the total disregard for all accepted structures (jumping from 1st to 3d person, obliterating the concept of tense in several passages and refusing to differentiate between internal dialogue and quotes) makes it all the more unique and impossible to copy.

If you want a laugh, read the reviews of the book. The people who loathe it are amusing as hell trying to articulate why. The frustration’s palpable – “I know this thing is brilliant, but all this talent, this brilliant text, devoted to such a repugnant and unapologetic story of such a lout… I want to see some existential changes in the narrator. I want to have him reinforce what I believe… How can a writer of such immense talent spend it like this?” How Donleavy did that, I don’t know, but if you read his interviews, he did it all quite happily, and with as much regret for his actions as the protagonist.

PL: A buddy of mine walked in on an emergency C-section. Shocked the shit out of him. “Here’s your wife sir, and in this bowl are her innards.”

Placentas… imagine Alien meets football. Not pretty, but I’m from the school of don’t like, don’t look. A quick glance told me more than I wanted to know. I think I only ever saw it the first time and studiously avoided her lower half for the younger 2 kids’ births. Not that I’d have yacked, but… Of course, I’m a guy who’s watched intently as my bones have been reset, as I’ve been stitched up, and as surgery has been performed under local anesthetic… Take my opinion for what it’s worth, but I’m glad I watched my sons emerge and take their first breaths. Wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Recently, I’ve become a fan of Sierra Nevada’s Glissade, which is probably the best thing to come out of Chico’s favorite brewery since their original Pale Ale in the 80s.

PL: I favor SN’s Torpedo extra pale ale. Great citrusy bite.

I prefer recalling the wife’s privates solely for their non-utility purposes. Hence, in addition to not looking at childbirth, I was also not one of those foolish sorts who said things like, “Oh, when she was pregnant, she was at her most beautiful.” I understand why guys say that to their wives, but why say it to other people? It’s such a silly lie, and everyone knows it. She’s fat, she looks like hell and no… Unless you’ve some demented fetish, pregnancy is not sexy. And the guy who spouts that silliness is always the same ass who says, “We’re pregnant” when his wife’s expecting. No. She’s pregnant. You’re a simp. And a cheesy, embarrassing one at that.

PL: Lucky I didn’t go with the red sauce recipe.

PL: Of all the polite but preposterous lies people offer everyday, “Oh, it’s so beautiful” regarding infants has to be the worst.

They’re ugly. Sinfully ugly. Yes, to anyone reading and shaking his or her head, your child, too. It was a hideous creature for at least the first six months of its life. Not “uglier than a bag of assholes” ugly, but damned unattractive. They’re a work in progress. At 1 and 1/2 they get alright looking.

PL: Nice eye.

How long did it take you to get over it, even though you weren’t privy to the business end of the operation?

PL: I didn’t have to get over it because I didn’t watch. The shock I described abates naturally as you settle into having a new person around all the time.

Never listen to the people who say, “Ohhhh, nothing is ever the same after you have a child.” Tripe. Things are different, obviously, but I’m still the same person I was before. The wife and I just can’t light the engines quite as much as we did before. But there is a quiet, unspoken crowd of people who still behave like they’re 25 out there with kids. You just have to organize your time a little bit better, and be more responsible.

Also, you’re damn right about Imperial stouts, they make Guinness taste like bland coffee/bog water by comparison. I suggest that you get your hands on a bottle of Abyss or Brooklyn Black Ops, they’re both amazing.

PL: Also, Stone’s, Rogue’s and Bell’s imperial stouts are all phenomenal.

ps that recipe made me throw up my Guinness in my mouth a little bit. My wifes placenta had an extra lobe, so everyone crowded around to examine it, they of course wanted to share in the glory with me. Thanks a lot asshole.

Love your work.

PL: First, try some Russian Imperial Stouts. Trust me… Have a few and you’ll never look at Guinness the same again.

Congrats on your “double delivery,” or considering it was dual lobes, plus the child, should I say “triplets”?

That’s my grandmother’s recipe. You should see what she did with the neighborhood cats. God I miss Gertie. Too many years she’s been gone. …Hopefully, one of these days she’ll learn to stop calling the people on the parole board cocksuckers.