Paddle Your Own Canoe: One Man's Fundamentals for Delicious Living
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He said, “My son, just lemme run inside and use the can
(number two)
Now let’s get some Doritos and paddle your sweet canoe.”
What would Jesus do? Paddle my goddamn canoe.
Take the road less traveled says Robert Frost,
Keep your stone rollin’ so it don’t accumulate no moss.
Leave the faint of heart suckin’ on your exhaust.
Live a little life and paddle your own canoe.
Don’t while it away masturbatin’ in the ditches.
Put yer tackle away and hitch up your britches.
Then provision your boat with several pulled-pork sandwiches.
Indulge in savory meatstuffs, paddle your own canoe.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my editor, Jill Something, for gently navigating me through these heretofore unpaddled currents without ever once hurting my feelings. To Dana Borowitz, Monika Verma, and Daniel Greenberg for providing the map with which I was able to find my way to Jill Something and the fine folks at Dutton, particularly Jamie McDonald and LeeAnn Pemberton. To Catherine and Frederic Offerman, who made me. To Megan, my wife, who continues to tolerate me at an astonishing rate. To my teachers, without whom I would be exponentially more unfit for public consumption. To Mike Mitchell, and all those who delight us with their pencils. To Lee and the other elves of industry at Offerman Woodshop for cleaning up their areas. Finally, to all of the family and friends in my life who shared remembered details, sometimes in hilariously disparate versions from my own, for reminding me that I’m simple. You tend to keep me around anyway, and for that I am grateful.