Kinky Friedman is a odd bird, but damn amusing. Part singer, part writer, and part smart-ass, he is thoroughly entertaining. He has a gift for insouciant and irreverent phrasing: doing something without thinking is done at the “sperm of the moment;” a drowning publishing magnate is given the last word, “Roseglub.” He consistently refers to telephones as “blowers,” defecating as “taking a Nixon,” and says “mucous garcias” instead of “thank you.” My favorite quote is, “She’d been married for ten years to Derrick Price and, as with most successful marriages these days, they lived in separate cities.” Friedman isn’t just a sarcastic wise guy, though; he throws in mentions of such diverse characters as MLK, Charles Dickens, Al Capone, and mass murderer John Wayne Gacy. The title is a parody on T.S. Eliot’s poem “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” and a key clue is discovered while ruminating on the Sherlock Holmes story of the Red-Headed League. Toilet humor coupled with intellectual references makes for a very funny story.
It was New Year’s Day.
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