This image has nothing to do with my commentary except that Hart Hanson is in it … and I happen to love it. Articles need colorful pictures, right? Well, there you go.
Curtis Gillespie’s Eighteen Bridges article about Hart Hanson, “In Profile: The Populist – Hart Hanson thought he’d end up teaching college on Vancouver Island. He was wrong,” is so well written it makes my mouth water. The writing is rich and resonant, resplendent with words that fall out of the page onto your lap in a pile of colorful toys. And chocolate mousse. For this same reason, I love the writers of Vanity Fair … the articles are deliciously descriptive and impeccably researched … and lengthy. A veritable double latte of pop culture literature peppered with sex and haute couture-quality fantasies.
I am so green with envy I could piss myself. The ambitious swath of self-importance running through my veins would gladly sell my family to have the opportunity to write like that … or work in that world with Hart Hanson. He is to creativity what this writer is to the English language … a scrumptious once-in-a-lifetime kaleidoscope of pure genius.
This is my favorite paragraph so far …
Near the end of the conversation, the suit made a suggestion Hanson strenuously objected to, but which hierarchy and diplomacy compelled him to respond to with: “Okay…that’s an interesting suggestion…I guess we could always consider that.” However, as he’d uttered these words, he’d stood up, extracted his penis from his trousers and begun to whap it against the phone, against the cradled handset, against the number buttons. Nathan did all he could to contain his laughter until the call ended a few seconds later, at which point he and Hanson laughed so hard their stomachs hurt and tears formed. But then, as if governed by a switch, Nathan stopped laughing, his face suddenly an ashen mask. He stopped laughing because he remembered they were seated in his office. And that that was his phone.”
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