Archive for the 'You Said a Mouthful' Category

Hughes on Amateurs

Saturday, March 15th, 2008

“Amateurs want the weekend to keep going on Sunday. Monday is pro’s night, real terminal cases.” — Ed Loy in Declan Hughes’s The Price of Blood

Hughes on Writers

Tuesday, March 4th, 2008

“Everyone knows writers are all badly-dressed overweight cantankerous faux-humble alcoholics with a chip on each shoulder and a grudge against the world. And that’s just the women.” — Jackie Tyrell in Declan Hughes’s The Price of Blood

Caen on Martinis

Thursday, February 7th, 2008

“Martinis are like breasts, one isn’t enough, and three is too many.” — Herb Caen

Felten on Vodka

Thursday, January 17th, 2008

“There’s no vodka drink that can’t be made better by using gin instead.” — Eric Felten

Gainsbourg on Drinking and Driving

Saturday, December 15th, 2007

“You cannot drink and drive and I have chosen.” — Serge Gainsbourg

Banks on Pubs vs. Bars, Mike Hammer, and Being a Gentleman

Thursday, September 6th, 2007

“Someone told me that the difference between a pub and a bar is that a bar has more mirrors to show you how fucked up you are.” “Having a drink problem doesn’t make you Mike fuckin’ Hammer.” “No, that’s not it. I was being a gentleman. Let’s face it, she was drunk. I’m drunk. And [...]

Lebowitz on Talking

Thursday, July 26th, 2007

“Great people talk about ideas, average people talk about things, and small people talk about wine.” — Fran Lebowitz

Steadman on the Dreams of Reason

Wednesday, August 2nd, 2006

“Normally I don’t drink unless I need to, which is often, in this world, to soften the dreams of reason.” — Ralph Steadman, The Joke’s Over

Amis on Looking at Things

Wednesday, April 19th, 2006

The next morning: “Dixon was alive again. Consciousness was upon him before he could get out of the way; not for him the slow, gracious wandering from the halls of sleep, but a summary, forcible ejection. He lay sprawled, too wicked to move, spewed up like a broken spider crab on the tarry shingle of [...]

Amis on Too Many

Sunday, April 16th, 2006

Has anyone said it better than my dear friend Kingers? “He stood brooding by his bed. His face was heavy, as if little bags of sand had been painlessly sewn into various parts of it, dragging the features away from the bones, if he still had bones in his face. Suddenly feeling worse, he heaved [...]