My Dearest Friend:
Oh what fun we had. For those of you who weren’t following my live tweeting of the Pernice family circus drive from Chicago to Minneapolis on Saturday, here’s where we stand. I was fired, then re-hired. I resigned after filing ethnic and sexual discrimination charges, after which I was subpoenaed. Then I re-upped, and was quickly put on employee probation. I asked to be dropped off at the nervous hospital, and was refused, and finally named employee of the month. I think that’s where it stopped, though it’s possible Joe and I dissolved our partnership in the end —in which case this mailing constitutes illegal use of company property. (At least until we figure out who of you Joe gets custody of, and who are coming with me.
It was nice to meet so many of you in Chicago and Minneapolis. I know this is crazy talk, but you were SO nice that I was driven just to the brink of having my faith in people restored. Don’t worry though, these uncharacteristic impulses were completely arrested when, on my flight from Minneapolis to Boston, I was quickly reacquainted with the arm rest hog, line cutter, oblivious parent, lung-cougher-upper and drinking businessman loud talker, a particularly odious animal. My disdain for humanity intact, I resume my rightful place as Cynic-in-Chief of a quasi-government agency of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. In Minneapolis, someone told Joe they “really like the emails his wife sends out to the fans.” I wish with all my icy heart that hadn’t been on the last night of tour, because I would have offered a free Charlie bag to anyone who would walk up and say that to him. The degree to which it would drive him bananas would make me a happy, happy girl. And his wife thinks it’s funny.
TWEET A REVIEW, WIN A KINDLE
I really don’t have any news to tell you. Sure, I could make up a bunch of stuff to confuse and throw you off the top-secret destructive trail of the patented and proven Pernice/Ashmont career trajectory, but we all know how that would end. I’d hate you for making me lie to you, and you’d let me hate you for being lied to. But, I did want to write and remind you about the little twitter contest we’re having. Whoever tweets the best review of Joe’s recently published book, It Feels So Good When I Stop (Riverhead) could win a new Kindle, loaded with 10 of Joe’s favorite books. There are no rules, save those imposed by Twitter’s format – 140 characters, including the 7 you MUST use to put “Pernice” in there somewhere so I can find it (very important). The deadline is September 30, 2009, and you can write as many of them as you want. You can just read the reviews, which I posted here – http://www.joepernice.com/press/– and steal liberally if you like. The judges will be Megan, Joe’s high-powered editor at Riverhead, and Chris, his fancy-pants New York City agent, as well as the old curmudgeon himself. We’ve had some nice entries so far, including a few that aren’t from members of the Pernice family.
This week, I should have some news about some more east coast dates. If the dates hold, and I actually go out this time (if I feel like I haven’t heard quite enough Irish jokes, or too many new words for particular parts of the male anatomy) we will be celebrating my 65th birthday during the next run of dates. If you’re near those cities, we should plan on hooking up and doing something fun, to take advantage of my new senior discount. I have no news at all about recording, and am starting to think that what I told you last time I wrote, about the “supergroup,” was just vicious gossip designed to test my broadcast reach. All I can tell you is that every half hour or so, Joe says, “Linehan, what are you doing in January? Wouldn’t you like to go to Club Med to relax and work on that melanoma? Or maybe go on one of those travel adventures where you dig an irrigation ditch in a poor section of Antarctica? Maybe meet a nice and extraordinarily patient man who could put up with you? You deserve a break. How does the whole month of January sound? It’ll be your treat. You’ve been social networking really hard. I totally think you should go. If you leave a key under the mat, I’ll bring in your mail every day.” I think he’s trying to get rid of me to stage an HQ takeover, which means recording in the man cave that used to be my arts and crafts room. As I’ve said before, I won’t know anything for sure until someone hands me a master tape and says, “Here you go, girlie. Get to work.”
And with that, I will. Get to work that is.
Your humble servant,
Personal to Jack, who says he’s sure my friends and family find me funny, but wishes I wouldn’t write so much or often: I am a friendless orphan. You guys ARE my friends and family.