5:21 PM CDT, August 11, 2012
I really love it when Real Life aligns perfectly with stuff I’m working on. Take the selection of Paul Ryan as Mitt Romney’s running mate. I would say “Mitt Romney’s selection of Paul Ryan as his running mate,” but this is clearly not what happened. It’s not even a question that Romney came under a pressure campaign from influential conservative ideologues to select the guy who wants to be the architect of the demise of the New Deal. Essentially Mitt Romney is not running to be president but the Tea Party’s Perfect Bitch (And how vain was Kardashian to think that song is about her?).
I’ll have more on Paul Ryan later. For now all you need to know is that this comes as further evidence of a thesis to be unveiled in a new project of mine called “The Great Dysmorphia.”
What is “The Great Dysmorphia”?
You’ll be able to find out soon enough.
For our purposes today, consider this the first stages of a striptease. Think of it as me unbuttoning my pants but leaving the zipper up. Maybe taking off my shirt, but there’s a still an undershirt. Possibly removing socks. No stripper should have socks on, even in the earliest stages.
What you need to know for now is that if you live in Chicago or the surrounding area, you should make it your highest priority to attend the launch party for this exciting new thingamajob I’m up to, which will go down from 8-11 on Thursday, August 23rd at the Black Rock bar near the corner of Addison and Damen.
There will be a great deal of fun to be had this event. There will be 1) a band 2) RedEye personality and man-about-town Ernest Wilkins as emcee 3) drink deals and food specials, and 4) a short reading by myself, which I promise will at the very least make you go, “What the f***, Markley?” And, like I said, 5) a bunch of fun.
If you know me or we’re at least Facebook friends, you will be getting an invite soon (checkout the event page here), but if you’re any kind of regular reader, I highly encourage you to come hang out, bring friends, bring your parents, I’ll try to keep it civil with your conservative father—all that good stuff.
So mark your calendar, and fasten your seatbelts: this ride is guaranteed to get weird.
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