Writing Goals and Sports Bars

I was asked recently, "What are your current writing goals?"

The wonderful thing is that at this stage of my life I don't have any. I like doing this. I have goals for this blog (as I begin to age and fall apart I want to share that with you) but that's about it.

If I were younger a fantasy goal would be to write for "The New Yorker." Specifically a few "Shouts & Murmurs." I love it but most people don't even begin to understand it. I met a retired psychology professor a couple of weeks ago and we had instant rapport. He too loves "The New Yorker," including "Shouts & Murmurs." But that doesn't happen often.

This week's column, by Bruce McCall, is a tongue in cheek review of restaurants in Iran. It doesn't say that's what it is. You have to figure it out for yourself. Following is a review of a sports bar:

Bar of the Sport Martyrs
Satan nakedly disports here in this unnecessarily festive wormhole of godless international big-screen soccer worship, where recently a male patron was rumored to have publicly attempted the pornographic Heimlich maneuver on an unresisting female patron, who then projectile-vomited her half-digested khorest-e fesenjan all over a portrait of President Ahmadinejad. No access for armored cars.

Isn't this one of the most hysterical and insightful sports bar reviews you've ever read?


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