TexMex Richards is back this week with his zesty reviews that will make you want to dine on some Texas Cheese Fries with a spicy woman named Shirley. Enjoy!
by Tracey Tangerine
Buddy Zooka, a buddy cop comedy without the cop, but with the same amount of ‘buddy’ you’d get from my fan fiction about McCain and Obama (coming soon this Fall).
Buddy Zooka, a remarkable debut novel. If this novel was a woman, it would be a strong woman. The kind of strong woman who would wrap you tightly in her well-oiled arms and carry you away from the humdrum of bureaucracy, which is life. During the journey you’d remark “My what sturdy thighs you have!”
Buddy Zooka more like Bubbly Zooka. The little fizz, the jazz that rides out of a newly opened champagne bottle and into the atmosphere of a quaint Chili’s.
Buddy Zooka, an instant bubble gum pop classic. Reminds me of the good old pulp novels where each sentence was accented with a hearty punch to the face and all those noir femme fatales said, “Yummy, this avocado ranch dip sauce sure is yummy, but it could use some zesty TexMex Richard to spice it up a bit. Oh gosh, darling, now that I think of it, I want to have a TexMex Richard everything. I want a Southwestern TexMex Eggroll with TexMex on the side!”
by Jeff Gillenkirk
A father looks at his son across the field. The father ponders, “Why are we both wearing blue jeans today? It is actually quite hot to be wearing blue jeans today. I know let’s go to Joann’s today and buy the materials we need to make these jeans into sparkled jorts!”
But as father-man saunters across the field to ask his son to make jorts, his son chortles, “Jorts?! Ew, no father. I will not make jorts with you! Jorts are last season. I will not make jorts. I will make shants. Good day!”
The kid saunters away. The sun burns away the denim to reveal camo-shants underneath. How bedazzled those shants are! How great and wonderful they are and how those jorts will never ever live up to the beauty of such shants.
Father-George Clooney-Man falls to his knees in the tall green meadow and yells, “Why can’t we wear such splendid jorts today.” He cries on his light blue Ralph Lauren shirt, and lets his tears meld into the 100% cotton material.
The pain. The disconnect between father and son. And as such George Clooney-Dad dies. He dies in jeans that never would be those jorts. He dies wrapped in that elegant Ralph Lauren shirt. He dies just as the sun is about to set, but it will never rise for George Clooney-Dad again….