The Paris Review interview with Michel Houellebecq is amazing, for his is full of existential Frenchy ridicoulissness, which I just eat up, mind you. "I hadn’t seen any novel make the statement that entering the workforce was like entering the grave. That from then on, nothing happens and you have to pretend to be interested in your work. And, furthermore, that some people have a sex life and others don’t just because some are more attractive than others. I wanted to acknowledge that if people don’t have a sex life, it’s not for some moral reason, it’s just because they’re ugly. Once you’ve said it, it sounds obvious, but I wanted to say it." What a punk!
Jeff: Ken Whisenhunt strikes me as the cagey high school coach from the wrong side of town. He wears windpants/workout pants to church. His motivational tactics are that he looks at his best player and mouths “Arby's” to him in crucial moments. “You’re gonna be hearing me say this a lot. You get a free sandwich if you give up your body for the good of the team.” So now all these fucking freeloaders are trying to milk the system. Diving around on the carpet. Acting like they exploded their Achilles tendons.
David: He’s got a whole team of French dip aficionados.
Jeff: “Did you see me? Did you see what I did? My mom has pix!” And after the game, they are all in Whisenhunt’s minivan, claiming they’re owed all of these fucking sandwiches.
David: The van smells excruciatingly of gravy.
Jeff: He’s thumbing through singles in his wallet, and is like, “My wife needs me to get diapers and by the way, we also LOST, guys, COME ON!” And the team is rolling up their pant legs, trying to show him raspberries on their ankles and shit, just oblivious, jabbering to each other. Arguing about which sandwich comes with a poppy seed bun.
David: I like the idea of Whisenhunt pulling up at a drive-through window in Edina, MN and disgustedly ordering a bunch of roast beef sandwiches. "Just… I don't know, fucking give me all of them. Make all of the sandwiches you can and then you're done for the night. Fuck."
Jeff: “Because some people took advantage of my goodwill last week, this week the reward for extreme physical abandon is a Zagnut confectionary bar.” Pretty soon the practice field is empty.
David: Just Derek Anderson throwing interceptions to a tackling sled.
Jeff: Maybe Jay asks if he can get a Clif Bar. I get the sense Jay Feely gets pleasure from taking coaches aside and asking them if they’ve financially planned for their futures yet. "'Cause I've looked at your credit score, coach… and, well, I’ve actually Tweeted it, too.”
