…in 1953, Hemingway’s cat Uncle Willie (Uncle Willie!) was hit by a car. Here’s the letter Hemingway wrote to a friend describing the incident:
Just after I finished writing you and was putting the letter in the envelope Mary came down from the Torre and said, ‘Something terrible has happened to Willie.’ I went out and found Willie with both his right legs broken: one at the hip, the other below the knee. A car must have run over him or somebody hit him with a club. He had come all the way home on the two feet of one side. It was a multiple compound fracture with much dirt in the wound and fragments protruding. But he purred and seemed sure that I could fix it.
I had René get a bowl of milk for him and René held him and caressed him and Willie was drinking the milk while I shot him through the head. I don’t think he could have suffered and the nerves had been crushed so his legs had not begun to really hurt. Monstruo wished to shoot him for me, but I could not delegate the responsibility or leave a chance of Will knowing anybody was killing him…
Have had to shoot people but never anyone I knew and loved for eleven years. Nor anyone that purred with two broken legs.”
I don’t like to make hyperbolic statements, but if you’ve ever applauded when a server drops a tray then you’re a complete piece of shit and Hitler wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.
(this appeared in her recap of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, and it’s probably the most brilliant thing I’ve read this week)
Saturday night. A woman at my table is trying to decide on a cocktail. The following exchange occurs
Woman: I like really fruity, sweet cocktails that have a kick. I had this one, and I can’t remember what it was called, but it was pink, and it was served in a martini glass…?
Me: Was it a Cosmopolitan? Or maybe a Sex on the Beach?
Woman: No, the bartender just threw a bunch of things together, he said I would like it and it was amazing!
Me: So…this bartender invented a drink for you, and you want me to help you figure out what it was? Did you have the drink here?
Woman: No, it was a different bar. We tried to go there earlier tonight but the bartender wasn’t there.
Me: …I’m just going to get you a Sex on the Beach.