Thursday, May 26, 2011

The Emails of Ernest Hemingway

It is a longstanding tradition to publish the letters of famous authors. But now that no one writes letters, how will we overanalyze the correspondences of great writers to pad our dissertations? I know...we’ll publish the emails of famous authors.

I recently worked with a stable of Ernest Hemingway scholars to sort through the late novelist’s emails, and am currently shopping the collection to big name publishers. A small sampling:

To enabler123@___

Let's grab a drink after dinner. Doesn't matter where.

Sent from my iPhone

To enbabler123@___

Sorry about last night. That bartender was so ugly I had flashbacks to the Italian Front. Let's get a breakfast drink.

Sent from the bartender’s bathtub

To enabler123@____

Remind me never to drink waffle daiquiris again.

Sent from a medic’s iPhone

To otherlostexpat@___

I got so drunk last night I dreamt that Detective Comics was going to do a Nick Adams vs. Batman comic book series. Guess I should stop drinking wry. [LOL!]

Sent from Mall of Mojitos, South Havana location

To great.gatsbeer@___

I bet I could take Jack Dempsey.

Sent from a bipolar high

To great.gatsbeer@___

Dempsey’s punches hurt more than trying to write sober.

Sent from a bipolar low

To publishyourrubbish@___

I think Fitzgerald has a mancrush on me. Will anyone still be reading my books in a world where people say things like “mancrush?”

Sent from a safari undertaken in mounting desperation

To Mother_Earth@___

Please unsubscribe me from your planet.

Sent from Ketchum, Idaho

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Hot Women who Never Hit the Wall

Beauty doesn’t last forever, and sometimes, it barely lasts at all. At some point, most women seem to undergo an abrupt change for the worse. Even beautiful women. One minute they’re hot enough to power Satan’s tanning bed and the next minute they’re just another face in the crowd. It isn’t easy to explain, and isn’t always a function of age. And once that special something vanishes, it never seems to reappear. My friends and I call it “hitting the wall.”

Occasionally there are stunners who dodge Father Time’s cruel machinations and retain the freshness that made them stand out from the other standouts. Some that come to mind:

Chris Evert: Tennis champ, girl next door, and the reason white skirts were invented. The fact that she has aged so well is even more remarkable when you consider how much time she spent in the sun. Ms. Evert played her best tennis at the French Open, where she even managed to appear ladylike while covered in red clay. There is a mud wrestling joke to be made here, but we’ll swerve around it out of respect for this classy specimen.

Alyssa Milano: Definite contender for most attractive Alyssa of all time. A woman whose looks remained top floor even as her career hid in the basement. Usually when the resume gets spotty, the face follows suit. Not in this case. A woman who looks dirty and sweet with her sex drive on repeat. And being a vegetarian, you know the wet spot wouldn’t smell like nitrates.

Marisa Tomei: This perennial knockout might even be getting better with age. And allegedly, she has a lust for uncool sitcom characters. Given my resemblance to Bud Bundy, it is virtually impossible for me not to be in there.

Salma Hayek: In the truly elite stratum of cartoonish sex appeal. Still going strong at 44, motherhood and all. So smokin’ that a source close to the U.N. tells me they are considering a bill that would change the expression to “Gentlemen prefer brunettes.”

Faye Dunaway: So hot in Bonnie and Clyde she should have been preserved in amber and used to create a Jurassic Park full of hot chicks. So hot in Chinatown she made an already tragic story more tragic. You have heard of cheekbones that could cut diamonds. Unlike diamonds, Ms. Dunaway’s cheekbones truly are priceless. It has been said that Helen of Troy had “a face that launched a thousand ships.” If Helen had gone clubbing with Dunaway, she would have spent the first half of the night buying her own drinks and the second half alone at home, wearing sweatpants and reading The Bell Jar for the 75th time.

My Twitter feed is as gorgeous as ever:!/greatMikePayne

Wednesday, May 4, 2011


I hate it when someone tries to get me to see a movie, and when I tell them I have no interest, they say, “But it’s based on a true story!”

So what? Not all true stories are interesting. Hollywood must agree with me; otherwise they wouldn’t make their “true stories” 98% false.

So you like true stories, do ya? GREAT, check this one out: Today I woke up and had a sandwich. What, not entertaining? That sweet anecdote came straight from the headlines. Only way it could be truer is if I dropped the sandwich crumbs on your plate.