COMMUNICATE

Send a message.
Ask, advise, comment, volunteer, inform, gripe, complain, threaten or pester... Send us at REVIEWER MAGAZINE your tender love note. Want to be heard? You can!
:::

Reviewer TV


Watch:

Vimeo
Youtube


:::

Join Us, Won’t You?

ReviewerTV
Subscriptions

$5 per month or $40 per year, recurring, you can cancel easily at any time:


Memberships: monthly or annual, cancel easily any time.



:::

Reviewer TV

Members Videos

:::

In Print

PDFs of recent issues of Reviewer Magazine in print:

#50,

#49,

#48,

#47,

#46,

#45,

#44,

#43,

#42,

#41

#40,

#39,

#38

:::

Most Recent Items

Reviewer TV

Members Videos

:::

In Print

PDFs of recent issues of Reviewer Magazine in print:

#50,

#49,

#48,

#47,

#46,

#45,

#44,

#43,

#42,

#41

#40,

#39,

#38

:::

Jim Goad's Brain Tumor

http://www.reviewermagazine.com/jim-goads-tumor.html

The Brain Surgery Of Jim Goad

If this isn’t an elaborate hoax like one of his scathing satire zines published in the mid-90s to spoof his competition with Answer Me, it appears that the great populist yet underground writer James Thaddeus Goad has been diagnosed with a type of brain cancer (on the outside of the cranium… not attacking the grey matter) and has recently undergone surgery on the 5th of June. The author of The Redneck Manifesto (or How hillbillies, hicks and white trash became America’s scapegoats) has a board post entitled My Cool New Brain Tumor which can be read at his website’s NetJerk Lounge…

From JimGoad.net:
Late Sunday morning I began to see little multicolored plastic chips in front of my eyes, causing me to anticipate the onslaught of another migraine. Shortly thereafter I felt intensely nauseous and tried to induce vomiting, with no success.

And that’s all I remember.

According to the intensely pregnant Shannon, I came into our living room, sat on the couch next to her, looked out the window, and my eyelids began fluttering. She thought I was just goofing and asked me to stop. Then my arms and legs started flailing, I bit down on my tongue hard enough that blood was pouring out of my mouth, and I finally collapsed, stopped breathing, and turned blue. Shannon pushed furniture out of the way, dragged me to the floor, called 911, then proceeded to administer mouth-to-mouth.

When the paramedics arrived, it was three black males and an Asian guy. I called them "monkeys." Shannon tried covering for me and explained that we’d festooned our nursery with monkey blankets, monkey pillows, and a monkey mobile because we were calling our son-to-be "Li’l Mr. Monkey," but she isn’t sure it helped much.

You can still email Jim at melbanarberth@yahoo.com or jd@jimgoad.net and visit him on myspace at myspace.com/jimgoad. ~RR

You must be logged in to post a comment.