It is still Memoir Season for all Republicans who had any power or influence whatsoever between 2001 and 2009. Meanwhile, Fred Thompson is also writing a book! It’s about his life as a Real American, and features some authentic, folksy prose from the crack team of unpaid ghostwriters working out of the slave shed at Fred Thompson’s Northern Virginia mansion. As for the title, Teaching the Pig to Dance is at least in the ballpark of what you’d imagine Fred Thompson would drum up, while poopin’ on his golden mansion toilet.
Let’s check out the first paragraph of the official product description:
Fred Thompson has enjoyed a remarkable career in Hollywood and politics, but when he sat down to write a memoir about how he got to be the person he is, he discovered that his best stories all seemed to come out of the years he spent growing up in and around his hometown of Lawrenceburg, Tennessee. It was a small town but not the smallest—after all, it was the county seat and it did have a courthouse, a couple of movie theaters, and its own Davy Crockett statue. For truly small, you had to travel to nearby Summertown, where the regular Sunday dinner was possum and chocolate gravy.
Ha ha ha, nice dig at poor, poor, disease-ridden Summertown.
But Lawrenceburg is where Fred got to be a kid, get in his share of trouble and scrapes, get to know folks he didn’t realize were so colorful at the time but sure does now, get married, have a few kids, become a man, and start his career as a country lawyer (pretty much in that order). And as Fred tells it, getting that law degree was something of a surprise for him, since in school he’d been less than stellar as a scholar. “Teaching Latin to someone like me,” he says, “was like trying to teach a pig to dance. It’s a waste of the teacher’s time and it irritates the pig.”
“Also, Latin’s for fags.”
A fine read, to be sure. Can you even wait until tomorrow to learn more about how it came as a “surprise” to Fred Thompson that he got a law degree, after spending three years at law school?
[Amazon]
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I for one demand that recipe for possum mole’.
A must-jead for jowl-fetishists everywhere.
I hope there’s a whole chapter about when he commanded that Carrier Battle Group that helped secretly helped capture the defecting commie submarine despite the shitty weather and made the Rooskies believe it had sunk. I would have voted for him, back then.
Are there early naked pix of his wife in the book? If there were, I might thumb through it at Borders. But that’s it.
And by ‘jead’ I mean “read”. Or perhaps it is a neologism “jerkoff+read”. Jead. You know, like Sarah Palin fans do with her books.
A must-read for adult illiterates.
I think the title is so appropriate and descriptive. Thank you Fred Thompson. Boy, you have aged since The Wonder Years? How is Winnie?
If Thompson’s “surprise” at getting a law degree can in any way be accompanied by the theme from “Deliverance,” I will not be surprised.
“Teaching the Pig to Dance”? So it’s about Fred’s penis, right?
A better title might have been “How I Ran for President Without Ever Getting Off My Couch”.
Chapter 1 Rooskies don’t take a dump without a plan.
Chapter 2 My days as a folksy DA in NY City
Chapter 3 Metamucil cured my Diabeetus!
An after-the-fact “edit your post” function would have helped. Also. Goddamit.
Only comes in Large Print edition.
Here’s what the text said originally, before the editors got to it:
Fred Thompson has enjoyed a remarkable career in Hollywood and politics, but when he sat down to write a memoir about how he got to be the person he is, he discovered it was more work than he wanted to bother with. So he took a nap instead.
Summertown, TN
A country lawyer and his rural jurors..
The cover photo would have been more effective if he were wearing a tutu and had flies buzzing around him.
If you can’t teach your pig to dance, you’re going to look awful silly at the Huckleberry prom.
Seconds on the chocolate possum.
Why is that creepy looking old man standing in Mitt Romney’s front yard?
Just thinking about a memoir by Fred Thompson is making me sleepy. Sorry, but just like his lazy Presidential run, no one is going to care about his memoirs; and now that the original Law an Order’ has finally been canceled after its half-century run, he can’t even go back to that.
“Teaching the Pig to Dance” is insulting to Sarah Palin/Trig, I’m pretty sure. Also.
now there’s a pig what needs some lipstick.
Fred who?
Soooo, the book tour won’t be going to Summertown?
And I was a latinfag* in H.S. One less thing myself and Dipshit McGoo have in common, I guess.
*Do they teach this shite anymore?
What about teaching a pig to fornicate? Does that irritate them too?
I’ve never seen an ISBN of all threes, due to lazyness. Must be saving all sixes for Palin et als next. Also.
Does it com with crayons, or are those extra?
[re=578573]memzilla[/re]: That’ll be covered in his follow-up book, Teaching the Pig to Squeal: A How-To Manual for Armchair Ass Rapers.
I like Fred’s new look. Kind of a cross between a hound dog and a goat.
“Summertown, where the regular Sunday dinner was possum and chocolate gravy.”
I might not eat ever again.
The subtitle is “A Memoir of Growing Up and Second Chance?” What the hell kind of grammar is that? Is it a second chance, in the sense that most nouns take an article, or is Second Chance a town or maybe a strip joint on the edge of town, like “If you didn’t get any tail in Lawrenceburg, drop in to Second Chance and see what you can get for a dollar at time?”
I really need to know what lunatic is actually going to buy this book? Who fucking cares about Fred Thompson?
[re=578597]SmutBoffin[/re]: Did you play certamen? Did you go to the NJCL convention?
“Teaching a pig to dance” is a damn sight near “watching as a pig wriggles around in excrement for the first time.” Because they do that, you know.
Those damn liberal elitists, sneaking up behind poor ol’ Fred and forcing him to get edumacated with that thar law degree! How dare they violate his right to grow up barefoot, illiteright, and arming bears like our Founding Fathers intended!
[re=578632]Maxine of Arc[/re]: Jesus, it gets worse? Tormenting children with the dative case in class wasn’t enough, they gotta be doin’ it in public?
Chapter 1 “What Sam Waterson Is Really Like.”
I think Fred Thompson is actually Dr. Phil’s evil twin, separated at birth, kind of like Good Shatner/Bad Shatner.
I was wondering who taught Tom DeLay his “Dancing with the Stars” moves: now we know.
Fred wrote a book about J-Lo?
Ah, so that explains it, I thought I had felt an enormous peristaltic contraction of the Force, as if a giant turd were lurching towards the anus, to be born.
[re=578606]Cape Clod[/re]: That isn’t all they do with the possums down South – keep fuckin’ that possum, Fred.
[re=578650]SmutBoffin[/re]: they gotta be doin’ it in public?
They’ve been doing so for 2,000 years
“Aih! Ooh! Not dative, not the dative, sir! Nah, aah! Ooh! The…accusative! Accusative! Aah! Domum, sir! Ad domum! Aah, ooh!”
…
“Hail Caesar! And if it’s not done by sunrise, I’ll cut your balls off.”
“possum and chocolate gravy”
Oh god, this is actually real. Bechamel with cocoa and vanilla. But, you make it with biscuits, not possum. Is he trying to make things sound authentic or gross people out?
Unless their’s butt naked pics of Chris Meloni from Law and Order – Special Crimes Unit…burn it!
“But Lawrenceburg is where Fred got to be a kid, get in his share of trouble and scrapes, get to know folks he didn’t realize were so colorful at the time but sure does now…”
How cornpone. Did Andy and Aunt Bea stop by for vittles? Where was the ole swimmin’ hole? Didja gig ya some crawdads too?
I’m ashamed I know how to write those sentences.
I hope the audiobook version is read by Fred himself.
“Ah say, Ah say, Ah say theah son, did Ah evah tell you about the time Ah woke up one morning while the rooster was crowin’ and found myself with ah one ah those big cituh law-yer-in degrees? Hoo boy, Ah tell yuh that was somethin, Ah say, Ah say, Ah say it sure was somethin.”
Any takers on a bet for how short the trip is between launch & remainder?
I bet I’ll see this going for $0.01 on Amazon two days after its release.
[re=578594]mumblyjoe[/re]:
[re=578594]mumblyjoe[/re]:
Palin’s story will be told in the Sequel – “Teaching the Pig to Apply Lipstick”.
Frankenberry Thompson really needs to just go away.
This, from now on, is how all Republicans will explain getting those fancy degrees without contracting academic commiehomofascism. “One minute I was [pitching a baseball/throwing a touchdown/making a basket/leaving a horsehead in a colored fella's mailbox], and the next I had a [Wharton MBA/Ph.D in history from Yale/Federalist Society membership], a mortgage, and a [second] marriage.”
Does he talk about having a businessman love child with former Alabama Governor Fob James, and then teaching that child how to act for teevee commercials? Makes sense to me…does it to you?
Well, heee-HAW wonketteers. This has got me more tickled than a poked pig in the county crapper!
Crockett fought the Hispano-terror Meskins at the Alamo so that we wouldn’t have to fight them in Lawrenceburg.
By the way, Fred, that wasn’t gravy.
“My life as the dessicated, bloodthirsty, chair-ridden grandpa from the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”
I guess they cancelled Law and Order rather than have to bring him back on the show for the purpose of pimping his stupid-ass book.
Makes sense to me.
Duz it 2 U?
“get married, have a few kids, become a man”
In that order? that’s fucked.
Latin is the language child rapists. and its French. Also.
Coming to think of it, his big boobied wife does look a tad porcine.
[re=578701]Jerri[/re]: WIN!
[re=578671]Maus[/re]: I’m certain ‘chocolate’ is a euphemism for that possum gravy’s prime ingredient…
Since Fred wouldn’t learn any Latin, I assume he bought his law degree with some chickens.
[re=578574]Crankenstank[/re]: Fred’s blowing his (never that bright) shot at the White House might have meant the end of lipstick on that particular pig.
[re=578679]PlanetWingnuta[/re]: Yes to butt naked Stabler. No to Dipshit McGoo.
(BTW: have you seen Meloni in “Oz?” Mmmm…)
An excerpt from Chapter 2:
We can’t bust heads like we used to, but we have our ways. One trick is to tell ‘em stories that don’t go anywhere – like the time I caught the ferry over to Shelbyville. I needed a new heel for my shoe, so, I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on ‘em. “Give me five bees for a quarter,” you’d say.
Now where were we? Oh yeah: the important thing was I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. They didn’t have white onions because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones…
[re=578626]MarSF[/re]: C’MON! People LURVED him as like the 5th replacement for whoever the hell created the role of the DA in the first place (Michael Moriarty?), a position of such responsibility in the show that the character would appear no fewer than 2 or 3 times per episode, and always was guaranteed more than 4 lines. THE BOOK IS THE ONLY WAY TO FIND OUT WHAT ALL THAT WAS REALLY LIKE.
So the University of Tennessee Law School gave Fred a degree and then hired Glenn Reynolds? I honestly can’t quite decide on the direction of that trend.
[re=578701]Jerri[/re]: Rooster Foghorn Leghorn and teh Chickenhawk?
He credits folks in Lawrenceburg as having a profound influence on setting him right. At age 17, he became a husband and father. Suddenly, it was time to grow up.
Knocking some lil gal up can have that effect on some people.
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