You may only read this site if you've purchased Our Kampf from Amazon or Powell's or me
• • •
"Mike and Jon, Jon and Mike—I've known them both for years, and, clearly, one of them is very funny. As for the other: truly one of the great hangers-on of our time."—Steve Bodow, head writer, The Daily Show

"Who can really judge what's funny? If humor is a subjective medium, then can there be something that is really and truly hilarious? Me. This book."—Daniel Handler, author, Adverbs, and personal representative of Lemony Snicket

"The good news: I thought Our Kampf was consistently hilarious. The bad news: I’m the guy who wrote Monkeybone."—Sam Hamm, screenwriter, Batman, Batman Returns, and Homecoming

March 24, 2006

No One Spams This Site Better Than Me

If you ever try to post a comment here and it gets "held for moderation," please don't be offended. I'm not trying to censor anyone.* It's just my blarf software, which sometimes grabs things according to its own mysterious criteria in an attempt to prevent spam. Just wait and eventually I'll see and post it.

I bring all this up because the site just held one of my comments. Irritating, but also an admirable show of even-handedness.

*Except for Kathy Lee Gifford, who leaves at least 40 profanity-heavy comments a day. Kathy and I have a complicated history.

Posted at March 24, 2006 01:28 PM | TrackBack

Kathy and I have a complicated history.

Don't ever get her started on the incident with the lobsters and the stripper on the Stutts Alumni Carnival cruise. . . Jonathan is still paying the lawyer fees for that. . .

Posted by: Saheli at March 24, 2006 03:17 PM

You're a saint. There may not be books written about you, but you're a saint.

Posted by: RMN at March 25, 2006 08:41 AM

Jon--next time you see Kathy Lee, would you do me a favor and punch her in the throat?

Posted by: Elayne at March 25, 2006 02:22 PM

See, this is the problem with you liberals. You can't even get the spelling of a person's name right.

Jon, if you ever bring up that night on the Stutts cruise again, I swear on Frank's grave I'll send my boys to break your knuckles in so many places you'll never blahrg again. Cody is sixteen now, you know. Old enough to kick your sorry ass.

Posted by: Kathie Lee at March 25, 2006 05:17 PM

Oh, the stories we could tell! If we could remember anything that happened after cocktail hour on the first night. Did that guy pour a heavy martini, or what?

(By the way, Kathie--those guys weren't tapping Cody for a secret society. They were just getting him wasted to get the dirt on you. I say again: the stories we could tell! Hint, hint.)

Posted by: Mike of Rugoren at March 25, 2006 08:38 PM