Vacation

Good Evening,

Tonight I give my thoughts on the First Novelist Award winner Deb Olin Unferth's breakout novel, Vacation. I'll try to avoid spoiling any important details that may disincline you from reading the novel. I think it's good, and if you're into her style, which is quirky and witty, you or maybe someone you know will get a kick out of this story.

I was fortunate enough to catch a reading and panel with Unferth, her agent, and editor at McSweeney's, Eli Horowitz. It was a very interesting experience. Her reading of Chapter 5 inspired me to buy the book, and Horowitz had a lot of cool info about the publishing industry. Unferth's journey from draft to print is a funny one too. She spent three years writing a novel. It sucked and she threw it away. That's when she wrote Vacation.

The premise of Vacation is simple enough. An average man named Myers tries to find an old acquaintance named Gray. While the first leg of the trip is easy, a mere flight from New York to Syracuse, the rest of the trip takes Myers to some pretty unexpected places. The bulk of the book is written in the third person, with occasional what you may call confessionals with particular characters.

Unferth's voice is very fun. Short sentences and well timed repetition and lists give the novel a rhythm that is quite pleasing. I equate the narration to the feeling one may get while watching a Wes Anderson movie. No soundtrack is necessary, but a well selected song or two could give the book a great tone.

Tone is important here. Despite the rather dire nature and unfortunate circumstances Myers encounters, there is an ironic humor throughout that keeps the reader entertained. It's pretty refreshing if you've been reading nothing but heavy dramatic novels or non-fiction for awhile.

Unferth's use of dialogue is sparse and deliberate. In fact, there are no quotation marks, which I'll admit took me a while to get used to, since I'm not big into novelists who use that approach, but by doing so, the dialogue of each character is kept short and it forces the reader to pay close attention. Well used technique.

The plot is a little disjointed, which kind of threw me for a while, but Unferth relies on the mystery of the relationship between Myers, Gray and Myers' wife to keep the reader engaged. By the end of the novel, it's understood why the book is written that way, and it certainly is controlled, with the story broken up more frequently at the end of the novel than at the beginning. For the first half, scenes are complete, flashbacks and confessionals are used as breaks between scenes, but by the end, scenes are interrupted. By this time however, you should be so invested in the novel that reading a brief flashback and finding out how the scene ends is a major priority. Unferth does this well for the most part, but some of the interruptions are ill-timed in my opinion, and some of the plot elements that are important at the end of the novel are introduced a little bit too late for my taste.

The novel explores the relationships of Gray, Myers, and their marriages. It's pretty insightful in that regard as well. Unferth does a great job describing feelings and sensations. She expresses curiosity for the reasoning behind people's least reasonable actions. It's a good look into some of the more awkward elements of human nature.

All in all, I enjoyed this book despite any faults I may have found with it. It's a witty, light novel with and lot of meaningful subject matter. I couldn't read a book like this every week, but I could definitely use a book like this every now and again when other books start seeming melodramatic.

I hope you check it out. You won't regret it.

-Steve

A Spot of Revision

Good Mor-- er, Afternoon!

This is post 1.5. No reviews, but I thought I'd put up a short story that I revised a little.

In a small industrial town in the Northeast, it’s nothing new when a partical physics professor gets denied tenure and plants a laser-emitting bomb in the University admissions office. It’s not unexpected when an amateur Extreme Sports Wrestling athlete gets busted using steroids and takes a sledgehammer to head of some poor producer.

Thankfully, it is also a city where it isn’t uncommon to see Commander Cosmic use his Star Ray to blast the tires on a stolen Escalade when catching a jewelry theif. It also isn’t rare for Karate Guy to make headlines for lifting a city bus to save a pregnant woman trapped underneath.

It’s a city of heroes and villains. It’s a city of good and evil.

It was a Thursday at midnight when Tracy Orton heard a knock at her door.

“Tracy! Open the damned door!”Derek slammed his fist against the apartment door. His backwards Lakers cap pressed sweat to his forehead and his breath smelled of Southern Comfort.

“Tracy! Please, let’s talk about this, okay?” Derek gave up on knocking and slumped with his back against the door. “Can we just talk, Trace?”

Tracy was sitting on the bed in her bright blue skirt, her blonde wig and half-cape with tears rolling down her cheeks. Tracy was no fool. She couldn’t open the door and let her neighors see that Blue Bonnet, the gorgeous superhero, was living in an efficiency and dating some average looking guy with love handles and a five o’clock shadow. She knew letting Derek sit outside in the yellow wallpapered hallway would help her cool off a bit. She also knew he had been cheating on her.

Derek had stopped calling out to Tracy. He answered text messages with a curt not now or I’ll call you later and after her seven-minute wardrobe change, he was relieved when she finally opened the door. Tracy, now in tight fitting jeans and a Syracuse sweatshirt, watched Derek stand and tuck his cellphone away.

“Thank God… Look Tra--” She slapped him.

“Are you still texting her, dammit?” Her face contorted and her eyes welled up again.

“No. No! I don’t even-- look, there’s no her, okay?” He massaged his red cheek and cleared his throat. “Can I come in? Please?”

Tracy answered by opening the door a little wider to let him pass. She crossed her arms while he walked past the mirrored closet and the bathroom. He made his way to the bed at the far end of the one room apartment. He realized she probably didn’t want him there, pulled a chair from the round breakfast table under the oddly-shaped art deco hanging lamps and sat there instead. She sat back on the bed.

“Trace, I didn’t sleep with anyone.”

“I don’t believe you.” She frowned. Her round face and soft, upturned nose didn’t suit the anger or jealousy it was showing.

“I didn’t!” Derek gestured a hand at her. “I don’t even know where you got the idea that I did!”

“Oh, please! Quit denying it!” She squinted at him. “I just saw you two together at Lucio’s!”

“Tracy, that was my cousin! From Scranton? She’s visiting from school.”

“What a crock! You expect me to--”

“Well, it’s true! I would’ve introduced you if you weren’t in costume. It didn’t help when you threw that table at me and told everyone I was a pedophile!”

Tracy rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t let anyone figure out who I am! Sorry, I just-- it’s all I could come up with…”

“Yeah, well while you were waiting here I was getting drilled by other cops until Sam showed them her ID.”

“I said I was sorry, but that girl is not your cousin!” She pointed at her face and said, “Do you think I’m that stupid?”

“No! I…” Derek buried his face in his hands. He looked at Tracy. Her big blue eyes glared back at him from underneath the light brows that scrunched in sadness and resentment. Four months and he still couldn’t muster those three words he knew she wanted to hear. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I guess you didn’t. Get out.” She pointed hard at the door. “Get out and stay out. I don’t ever wanna see you again.”

Derek walked without saying goodbye.

Tracy burst into tears and plunged her face into a pillow. It still smelled like him; a strange combination of spearmint and that mentholated Nivea aftershave he used. She threw the pillow at the refrigerator. For a minute, she worried that he might blab away her secret identity, but just like the rest of Precinct 14, he’d sworn an oath of secrecy. Superhero secrecy. Besides, Derek didn’t deserve a second chance. She’d been suspicious ever since he’d told her she looked better as a blonde. He was vocally disappointed when he found out about the wig.

He won’t have to worry about that now she thought. Eventually her tears dried and she slept.

Saturday night. Tracy, or in this case, Blue Bonnet, who had just yesterday had her costume dry-cleaned, stood on the brim of the ramshackle rooftop of a recently condemned apartment building. Saturday night patrol.

She felt much better without her cheating boyfriend around. Beating up crooks and muggers was therapuetic.

Why just tonight, she caught four vandals in zip-up hoodies creating an alternative representation of the Immaculate Conception on the side of St. Matthew’s Episcopal Church with spraypaint. The youngest one, a Hispanic boy with an eyebrow piercing, left a streak of blood across the knuckle of Blue Bonnet’s right white glove. The others hadn’t put up much of a fight.

Tonight she wore a smoky eye-shadow and her skirt was hiked up just a little higher. She practiced her heroic poses. Her half-cape flapped in the wind. Knuckles pressed to her hips, she smiled. Maybe a wink? Pouty lips? Toothy grin?

Her expression changed to surprise when she saw a young black woman in high-heels and a matching pink dress and handbag being dragged by a portly man wearing a knit cap into and alley across the street. She clambored down the side of the building using the noisy iron fire escape.

When Blue Bonnet reached the alley, the man was choking the woman against the cold brick wall. It wasn’t more than twenty seconds before his face and the wall had a more intimate relationship.

“Are you okay?” Blue Bonnet picked up the handbag and gave it to the woman.

“I’m… I’m fine.”

“Here,” Blue Bonnet produced a twenty dollar bill from the inside of her left glove. “Take a cab this time.”

Blue Bonnet heard tires screeching and a horrible metal crunch. She dropped the cash and ran in the direction of the sound.

The front end of a blue Nissan was wrapped around a crooked fire hydrant that leaked on the freshly mangled corpse of young man pinned beneath the car. As grotesque a sight as this was, Blue Bonnet was even more shocked when the airbag deflated enough for her to see Derek behind the wheel.

She opened the driver side door. The car reeked of bourbon.

“Derek? Derek!” She grabbed his collar and shook him.

Derek groaned. “Tra--”

“It’s Blue Bonnet.” She sniffed loudly. “And you’ve been drinking. You just… You’ve, you… You’re gonna be placed under arrest. DUI. And manslaughter.”

“Manslaughter?” He opened his eyes. “Oh my God! No! No!”

“Shut up.” She struggled to keep her face straight and her voice low. “You don’t get to feel sorry. Can you move?”

“Tracy…” Derek sobbed. “I… I missed you…”

“I said shut up.” She pulled him from the car.

“Ow!” He struggled to his feet. He was favoring his right leg, his arm was bruised and his teeth were red from a busted lip. He saw the damage. “Oh God! Oh my--” Derek turned and threw up on his front tire.

“Derek…”

“Please!” He looked back at her. “Please, Trace! I swear I didn’t mean for this!”

“What does it matter whether--”

“Let me go…”

Tracy’s head was spinning. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. There he was. The man she had been with for as long as she could to remember. She had even considered giving up the superhero gig and suggesting they move out of the city. His lip quivered and his watery eyes’ gaze moved slowly between the body and her own eyes. But right now she was Blue Bonnet. Blue Bonnet couldn’t let anyone go. He never should have been out tonight. He should have known better. What’s a girl to do?

Her options were cut short when she heard an explosion a few blocks away. There was no one to save at the scene of Derek’s car wreck, but people could be hurt, or God forbid the villianous Lobsterclops get away with another bank robbery.

“Stay here, Derek.”

She didn’t know that night whether he stayed or not, because she herself did not go back to find out.

The courtroom was bright and noisy on the morning of the 24^th. The faint smell of citrus wood cleaner lingered when Tracy, not Blue Bonnet, walked through the big double doors.

Judge Walthers, already and imposing man, sat a good four feet higher than everyone in the room. Tracy just made sure to sit in the furthest row, and on the opposite side, from the defendant’s table, where Derek was covering his face with one hand. His receding hairline was more apparent without his favorite Lakers cap.

Tracy wore her black-framed glasses instead of contacts that day, just to be safe. It wasn’t as if anyone would recognize her though. Derek and Bailiff Kiplinger were the only ones who knew Blue Bonnet wasn’t a blonde.

Tracy had been pleasantly surprised that morning when she learned that Derek had called the police on himself from another man’s cellphone. Less pleasantly surprised when the charges of his arrest did not include murder or manslaughter. How had he gotten rid of the body? How could anyone clean up the scene of that accident? She didn’t tell anyone what had really happened. Attending his trial was not just a way to learn these details, but also a form of closure.

Regardless of the details, Tracy crossed her arms and resolved that no matter what history she and Derek shared, she would never forgive him for getting away with murder.

“Defence, your witness.” Walthers pointed at Derek’s attorney.

Tracy thought she recognized the man sitting at the stand. He wore a red shirt and a tacky Beatles White Album tie.

“Mister Callahan, you say you were out walking your dog when you stumbled upon the scene of my client’s collision. Did my client seem intoxicated to you” The attorney chewed his pen after each question.

“No sir.” The witness rubbed his neck. “He seemed disoriented. Like he just woke up.”

“And what did you do?”

“Well, I called 911. Even though he woke up, he might’ve been hurt.”

“And did the officer that arrived breathlyze my client?”

“No.”

“Did he conduct a field sobriety test.”

“No, he--”

“Stop!” Derek stood up and waved his arms.

The attorney turned his head and gestured with his hand to sit down. The witness’s eyes widened.

“Look, Judge, I killed this man.” Derek buried his face in his hands for a moment. “I was drunk. My girlfriend left me and I got drunk and I killed that guy.”

“What are you on about?” Walthers raised an eyebrow.

“I’m… I’m a superhero.” Derek rubbed his eyes. “I bring people back from the dead.”

“You liar!” Tracy jumped out of her seat.

“Ma’am, please sit down!” Walthers banged his gavel.

Derek turned and saw Tracy. He began to cry. “It’s true, Trace. Why do you think there’s never been any injured victims when I respond to car wrecks?”

“Mr. Young, are you admitting guilt to manslaughter and driving while intoxicated? But… you resurrected the victim?”

“I…”

Tracy was still standing. She bit her lip and clenched her fists. She thought back to Winter when she was seventeen. The snow. The ice. The crash. The guy she saw when she woke up. The Lakers cap he wore.

“You son of a bitch!” Tracy ran up the aisle. Kiplinger knew better than to try and stop her from charging and pulled his gun. Derek closed his eyes and cowered. Tracy grabbed an empty chair and threw it and a wall, smashing it to pieces.

“Stop! I’ll shoot!” Kiplinger’s hands trembled with the pistol pointed at Tracy. He wasn’t sure if she was bulletproof or not, but he didn’t want to risk being wrong.

“Did you…” Tracy started crying. “Did you bring me back to life?” Derek opened one eye.

“Trace, I--”

“DID YOU?”

“Yes.”

Tracy hugged him. Kiplinger sighed heavily and lowered his gun.

“Thank you.” Tracy whispered in Derek’s ear.

“Ahem.” Walthers waved his gavel at everyone. “Order? Order please, in the court?”

“Sorry.” Tracy said as she let go of Derek. They both turned toward the judge.

“Well, since there’s no victim, I can only find Officer Young guilty of DWI. Turn in your badge and gun. Your license is revoked. You must enroll in an ASAP class. Otherwise, you’re free to go.”

“Thanks, your honor.” Derek turned to Tracy. “Can I get a ride home?”

“Hold on you two.” Walthers pointed at Tracy. “This young lady owes me a new chair. With a side order of explanation.”

“Well,” Tracy winced a little, “it’s a funny story…”

I think it still needs lots of work. The ending sucks. What do you think? Ideas for me?

-Steve

Shh... Let's Just Talk About Comics

Good Morning!

Pleasantly surprised that I'm awake, I thought I'd start the day with McDonald's breakfast and Part 1 of a crazy long comic review post. McDonald's: check.

Since there is such a huge number of comics on my desk from about three weeks of me forgetting to pick up books, or being out of town, or blah blah and the other thing, I'm just going to stick to a few select ones that I thought were just darn special.

Marvel
Realm of Kings # 1 - 9/10
Invincible Iron Man # 20 - 7/10
Dark Tower: Fall of Gilead # 6 - 9/10
Dark Tower: Battle of Jericho Hill # 1 - 8/10

DC Comics
Blackest Night # 5 - 7/10

Image Comics
Invincible Presents: Atom Eve and Rex Splode # 2 - 9/10

Well I thought the ending of the War of Kings was a little anti-climactic considering there was an explosion of cosmic proportions that ripped a hole in space-time. Now I think Abnett and Lanning are on to something kinda cool with Realm of Kings. If the embodiment of the 616 Universe of Marvel is Eternity, the embodiment of whatever universe Quasar got sucked into must be really weird. I mean, it's an organism. The universe is an organism. I use the word twice because literally when you see this place through Quasar's eyes it looks like a massive expanse of rotting organs mushed together. It makes me wonder how that universe even exists, but then I remember I'm reading a comic book. I'm not sure what themes this limited series is trying to take on. War of Kings definitely stressed the importance of family, the corrupting influence power has, and the blind destruction rage and revenge can create. I think considering the corrupt aspect of this universe, Abnett and Lanning may be returning to one or two of those themes with the main series and the Inhumans tie-in. Plus, it's got these neat metal-inspired Avengers.

Okay, so I'm digging what Matt Fraction is doing with Iron Man. It's like a mini reboot of the series, taking into account of course that his entire run was a reboot of the old series, which I'll admit, angered me a bit because I loved Director of SHEILD. Anyway, it was obvious that Tony Stark wouldn't just kill himself or leave himself in a persistent vegetative state without a contingency plan in case the world needed its smartest man back. It strikes me as a little odd though that everyone is jumping the gun on the "let's bring Tony back to life" bus. Maria Hill is a given, she slept with him. Black Widow I guess can see the use of having Iron Man around, plus I think she slept with him. This new Thor is a wildcard. I don't know anything about him. Bucky Barnes, or as I like to call him, Captain America, also could go either way. I can see why Pepper Potts doesn't want him back though. Pepper is being written much like Dr. Cameron on House was written a couple of seasons ago. She's sort of a martyr in relationships. For the most part, she's upset that Tony, the man she loves, gets to live while Happy Hogan, the man she used to love, died in a coma. Lots of drama going on very early in this new story arc, so I doubt everyone's plans will pan out. The thing that aggravated me about this issue, and it's a minor detail, is that Fraction had Stark say he doesn't believe in God. That's just dumb. He's prayed in comics before, like when Pepper asked him to pull the plug on Happy. Even my superhero reference guide to religious backgrounds describes him as "futurist." What the hell does that mean? Futurist? I'm sorry but just because he throws the word around a lot in comics doesn't make it his religion. Just because I go around saying I'm a "linguistic purist" doesn't mean the OED is my sacred text and I go to spelling bees every Sunday morning. That's just stupid.

The emotional roller coaster of the Dark Tower series continues. Even though the arc is called The Fall of Gilead, you think maybe it's a metaphorical fall. Maybe they'll make it. They'll smart kids and it looks like they have a chance... or not. Gilead burns in a wildly violent conclusion to John Farson's revenge on Roland and his ka-tet. I love what Peter David does with this book. The ongoing theme seems to be that no matter how much you prepare, no matter what kind of passion you have, everything in the world can die. There always seems to be a bigger fish out there to ruin Roland's life even more. He couldn't hold on to Susan Delgado, he couldn't hold on to Maerlyn's Grapefruit, he couldn't save his mother from herself, he couldn't save his father and now he fails to protect Gilead. Any average teenager would've cussed up a storm and given up a long time ago. But persistence and perseverance seem to be his top qualities. I can admire that. It's something we all need a little of.

Just when one arc wraps up, a new one begins. The Battle of Jericho Hill starts off with the death of Farson's most effective ally, Martin Broadcloak. But even in death he can still mess up Roland's attempts to save what's left of the world. After the fall of Gilead, the world begins falling apart. The Dark Tower, a mythical place seems to hold the land together with mystical tethers. Gilead was the anchor to one of said tethers and now earthquakes rattle the ground. Roland, Aileen, Cuthbert, Alain and Sheemie, being the last survivors of Gilead, decide there's nothing left to do but go to the Dark Tower, harness what power is there and kill John Farson and his wicked master, The Crimson King, before the world falls apart. If I had to guess? They are going to fail, one of Roland's ka-tet is going to die (most likely Cuthbert, especially if Aileen softens up to him), and Roland will become even more jaded. Remember, even in the face of oblivion this kid can keep fighting. I think we all can do the same. Plus Jae Lee's amazing pencils have made a glorious return. No offense to Isanove, the characters just didn't look the same.

The Blackest Night keeps getting better and worse at the same time. I'm super stoked to see the rainbow brigade of Lanterns together at last. I think even though Saint Walker is my favorite on principal, Larfleeze is the coolest. Nekron is a pretty sweet villain, albeit a pretty cliche one. I'm still not sure what theme Geoff Johns is driving home here, not that all stories necessarily need one, but nearly every story has at least something that the reader should take from it. There's the obvious stuff like teamwork, forgiveness and letting go sprinkled throughout the series, but I think Johns can do better than just that. He's done a great job micromanaging all the characters he's using. A typical JLA event has a lot of easy to write characters and most writers fumble with just that. Johns has your average JLA cast, some JSA, Teen Titans, the Green Lantern Corps, and tons and tons of other side characters that each need some depth, and he's chosen a good few to focus on, while letting the ones who aren't necessarily distraught about the walking dead just do their thing. He made a critical mistake in my opinion. A goofy writery thing to do. I think it's awesome how he brought back Batman as a Black Lantern. I think it's awesome how Batman was used as a weapon against the JLA. I think it's super stupid that Hal Jordan and Barry Allen "just narrowly" escaped becoming Black Lanterns like the rest of the JLA when Batman attacked. You mean to tell me that Superman can't outrun a Black Ring but Hal and Barry can? I understand you have to have your main characters and that they need to see it all through to the end, but how far can you go before it's playing favorites? I already said a hundred times that Geoff Johns has been toying around with Hal and Barry too much, and I can relate. If I had a chance to write Madrox, he'd be killing Celestials and wearing the Quantum Bands in no time. It's just a tad irritating to see it. If Barry and Hal aren't Black Lanterns by the third page of the next issue, the rest of the JLA better be back to normal, otherwise I'll lose a bit of faith in Johns. Other than that, I think Blackest Night is one of the more successful events, and not just because of the hype.

Finally, Atom Eve and Rex Splode. I love this little series. It's got a bit of puppy love romance mixed with very adult themes and ridiculously violent action. How often do you see an anatomically correct head exploding? Seriously, chipped teeth, brain matter and everything. I have a soft spot for well-done prequels and this limited series fits the bill. Rex is characterized as less of a douche, and you can see where and how his conscience develops. We've already seen Eve's origin story, so her presence in the book is pretty much just as a love interest for Rex and you see the traits that they were attracted to in one another. One thing I don't mention often is dialogue (which is stupid of me since 97% of the writing in comics is dialogue), and I think Benito Cereno's dialogue is much better in Hector Plasm than in this comic. Maybe he's just trying to emulate Robert Kirkman's almost childlike style, but it isn't working to the books advantage. Better dialogue would make this book a must-buy. Right now it'll have to settle for a must-read.

That's it for this edition, stay tuned for later, I'll have Part 2 of this week's reviews. May or may not include comics! (I'll probably focus on Vacation but I'll also try to include reviews of the graphic novels I picked up at the Richmond Comic-Con a couple of weeks back.)

-Steve

Ugh... A No-Comic Wednesday...

Oh Captain, My Captain,

No new comics are out today, which is lame. Probably the Thanksgiving holiday. What's worse, I didn't even get last week's new comics because of the almighty turkey day. So I got nothing today...

or do I?

Instead of talking about/reviewing comics, I'm going to talk about/review an online fun thing by Fiona Staples and friends, and my favorite athlete at the moment; Wes Welker.

First, the Drink&Draw Calgary.

I'm a big Fiona Staples fan, and followed the links on her website like a creepy stalker-type guy to find the Drink&Draw blog. She and six other comic writers/artists get together, get drunk, and get with the drawing of passaround comics. They then post them at the homepage. These are usually funny and absurd, like the following:

I think this is awesome. Not only are the comics well-drawn for drunk folks (Fiona is a comics genius), but they are hilarious. Plus, occasionally the artists will throw up sketches that are friggin' sweet. Like Fiona's True Blood fan sketches.

For this reason, I totally want to get a Drink&Draw started in my town. If you have my number and some pens, I'll buy the sketchbook and we can schedule a day to do a weekly comic jam or something. Seriously, I suck as an artist, so hit me up and we can suck together. Unless you're good. Then I'll just suck up your drawings.

Here is the Drink&Draw Calgary Homepage. I suggest you follow it like Moses:
http://drinkanddrawcalgary.blogspot.com

Moving on; to Wes Welker.

Those of you that follow the NFL surely must be familiar with the New England Patriots, home to one of our generation's greatest quarterbacks, Tom "muthafuckin" Brady (Know that I'm a New York Giants fan, so admitting this is a little self-serving, since NY took away the Pats' perfect season in 2007). A little treat that the Pats picked up from Miami was another awesome wide receiver other than Randy Moss. His name is Wes Welker.

There's a lot of reasons to like Welker. He beasts on some underneath routes, he gets the most yards after a catch in the NFL, and he takes coverage off of Randy Moss so that the Pats can make those explosive offensive plays that the Pats are famous for.

By I like Wes Welker because of the odd circumstances of his employment. He is keeping the dream alive for tiny white guys like me. Welker is only 5'9". Not only making him one of the shortest receivers in the NFL, but also one of the shortest general players. Receivers typically need to be tall and have a huge wingspan, like Chad Ochocinco at 6'1" or Randy Moss at 6'4" to make big plays.

Not only is Welker playing an unlikely position for his build, but he's also really damn good at it! A great receiver and an explosive punt and kickoff return runner. I'm only 5'8" so his being short is awesome to me. Plus, he likes to party like I do!


Well that's all I got for today. I hope you check out Drink&Draw (or contact me about Drink&Draw Richmond) and I certainly hope you have an appreciation for Wes Welker. Keep on rocking!

-Steve