Kirjahaku

The author of Roadkill and former frontman for "Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys" serves up an irreverent insider's view of Texas politics, culture, history, and mores. Reprint.

Kinky Friedman has done it all. From performing on "Saturday Night Live" to writing mystery novels to running for Governor of Texas, Kinky had spread a wealth of wisdom across the nation. In this volume, Kinky offers up a collection that addresses the sorry state of our world and what to do about it. From immigration to 'poly-ticks' to why Willie Nelson would have been on his gubernatorial staff, nobody cuts to the heart of the matter with the wit and verve of Kinky Friedman. Following is little friendly advice from the Kinkster: get you some Brontosaurus-foreskin boots and a big ol' cowboy hat. Always remember, only two kinds of people can get away with wearing their hats indoors: cowboys and Jews. Try to be one of them. Get your hair fixed right. If you're male, cut it into a 'mullet' (short on the sides and top, long in the back - think Billy Ray Cyrus). If you're female, make it as big as possible, with lots of teasing and hair spray. If you can hide a buck knife in there, you're ready. Buy you a big ol' pickup truck or a Cadillac. I myself drive a Yom Kippur Clipper. That's a Jewish Cadillac - stops on a dime and picks it up. Don't be surprised to find small plastic bags of giant dill pickles in local convenience stores. Everything goes better with picante sauce. No exceptions. Don't tell us how you did it up there. Nobody cares.

Kinky Friedman is not only a man of the people, he's a man of the animal kingdom. Kinky is a man who wears many hats -- not just a Stetson. Aside from being a politico, folksinger, and mystery author, he's also a longtime animal advocate and feels as passionately about his pets as he does about legislative reform. But rather than simply write about his own experiences, why shouldn't he include a few friends? Of course, Kinky's address book is unique, and he's taken full advantage. In his new collection, Kinky's Celebrity Pet Files, the Kinkster writes about his famous friends and their pets you've never met, each with a story as delightful and offbeat as the author himself. Kinky has gathered together an eclectic and extraordinary group of talented celebrity pals to talk about the subject nearest and dearest to their hearts: their pets. With candid, personal photos of the stars and their beloved animals and insider stories to match, the book is like a party only Kinky could throw, and the results are both entertaining and endearing. It's not your average celebrity pet book, because Kinky's not your average celebrity. He's got musicians, like Johnny Cash and his pig, Brian Wilson with his dog, and Willie Nelson doing his best horse whisperer impersonation; actors and comedians ranging from Phyllis Diller with Miss Kitty to Richard Pryor on a pygmy pony; and a lineup of writers, politicians, and some heroes of the past -- Bill Clinton, Joseph Heller, and Mark Twain, to name a few. Hilarious, oddball, heartwarming, and edgy all at once, Kinky's Celebrity Pet Files is a book for animal lovers, celebrity junkies, and anyone who just likes a good story. It's a little weird, it's completely charming, and it's 100 percent Kinky.

Walter Snow is doomed. He stares at the blank pages in his typewriter, hoping for the spark that will finally ignite his ambition to write the Great Armenian Novel. And then he meets Clyde Potts. She is beautiful, intelligent, charming, perhaps psychic, and, for better or worse, very possibly unbalanced. With Potts's joie de vivre and her certified-insane partner in crime, Fox Harris, Snow is caught up in a series of pranks against corporate sprawl that they execute with a bit of booze and some wacky tobaccy from Australia known as Malabimbi Madness. Things quickly spin out of control as the trio's ultimate, diuretically inspired prank leads to an unexpected, shocking conclusion, and Walter is left to wonder if the only things you ever keep in this life are the things you let slip through your fingers.

Kinky Friedman, the original Texas Jewboy, takes us on a rollicking, rock-and-rolling tour of his favourite city: Austin. Maybe you want to know where to find President Bush's favourite Austin burger joint.

Kinky Friedman, the prodigal poet of country music, the novelist the Chicago Tribune called "a hip hybrid of Groucho Marx and Sam Spade," the author/musician and all-around bad ol' boy who single-handedly aims to put the "pop" back into popular fiction, has written a tale of murder, mayhem, and mental hospital slippers that is guaranteed not only to please the legion of fans who love his music, but is sure to delight readers far and wide. If you want to meet great characters, ponder the mysteries of life (and death), and have an outrageously good time, then Elvis, Jesus & Coca-Cola is just what you need. When legendary tough guy/actor Tom Baker dies, Kinky Friedman, who knew Baker probably better than anyone, suspects foul play. Bolstering his suspicion is the fact that a documentary Baker had been making on Elvis impersonators has disappeared, along with the only person who has actually seen the film, Baker's assistant, Legs. In the course of searching for the missing Elvis movie, Kinky explores his own deep, dark past, namely his simultaneous affairs with two women named Judy - Uptown Judy and Downtown Judy, both vixens of a fairly high order (if fuzzy memory serves him right). Prompting this review of ancient history is the sudden reappearance of Downtown Judy ready to resume their relationship, and the sudden and mysterious disappearance of Uptown Judy. That these two plots come together, and that the Elvis film is found, is to be expected. Nothing else in this novel, however, deals with anything remotely expected. Friedman's voice is feisty, sassy, irreverent, blistering, provoking, enchanting, mesmerizing and incredibly entertaining. In fact, Elvis, Jesus & Coca-Cola is much more than another Kinky Friedman mystery - itself a cause of joy - it is an entertainment of the highest order.

"There is only one Kinky Friedman." --St. Petersburg Times Raunchy, offbeat, and hilarious, The Mile High Club, complete with a surprise ending, is Kinky at his considerable best.It all starts with a casual flirtation, two people on a flight from Dallas to New York. She's gorgeous and mysterious; he's a private detective. When the plane lands, the detective--our hero, Kinky--finds he's been left holding the bag, literally. The woman, having asked the Kinkster to watch her luggage while she visits the can, has taken a powder and somehow vanished. Mystery Woman does turn up again, but not before Kinky has claimed the interest of an array of suits from the State Department, been party to a thwarted kidnap attempt by Arab terrorists, and found a dead Israeli agent parked on the toilet of his downtown Manhattan loft. Employing the able-bodied assistance of his usual sidekicks, the Village Irregulars, Kinky eventually gets to the bottom of all the comings and goings of the many visitors to his loft, including two late-night visits by the mysterious and suddenly affectionate woman from the plane and one not-so-late-night visit by her angry brother.

Private dick extraordinaire Kinky Friedman has his hands full, fitting two new cases into his already busy schedule of solo boozing and misanthropic musing. First, there's the missing young autistic boy from New York. He's on a menu of medica- tions, has a knack for picking stock-market winners, speaks only one word, "schnay" -- and Kinky is the family's last hope of finding him. But a second mysterious disappearance takes Kinky deep-in-aharta Texas, where Lucky the three-legged cat -- and unofficial mascot of the Utopia Animal Rescue Ranch -- has apparently been kittynapped. The owner is convinced the feline is in the hands of some nasty neighbors, a satanic cult, or aliens -- and she wants Lucky found before he becomes coyote chow. Sleuthing in two states, with two very special specimens at stake, Kinky is going to have to think (and "drink)" harder than ever to save the day not once but twice....

Kinky Friedman has always proven himself to be a master of the offbeat and irreverent, and still manages to pull off a helluva whodunit in the process. Now the Kinkster may have met his match in this superbly crafted, fiendishly clever tale of a murderer who's methodically killing off unsuspecting Manhattan men. Gallingly, all clues point toward Kinky. Greenwich Village is the setting for "Ten Little New Yorkers, " a tale of murder and mayhem as only Friedman can warble it and featuring his usual suspects, including Ratso -- Dr. Watson to Kinky's singular Sherlock Holmes. As the clues and bodies pile up and the cops strong-arm Kinky as their man, he has to jump through hoops to find the real killer, all the while maintaining his outrage and, of course, his innocence. The murderer may be someone close to Kinky, which leads to a shocker of an ending that will surely take Kinky devotees completely by surprise. With a wink and a nod to Dame Agatha (as in Christie), after which all resemblance to those classic mysteries fades, this is one of Friedman's most complex and irresistible page-turners yet. Cunningly tentous issues of life, death, guilt, innocence, love, loss, and the danger of false confessions, this is Kinky Friedman at his wily, suspenseful, and sacrilegious best.

And Kinky Said Unto the People: Why the Hell Not? So the good people of Texas weren't able to get the Kinkster into the Governor's Mansion in 2006. It was a solid race, and he fought the good fight. Getting on the ballot as an independent -- a feat that had not been achieved in over a century -- was a victory in itself. And with ideas like "slots for tots" (legalized gambling to pay for education), the five Mexican generals plan (bribes to enforce border protection), and a firm stand against the "wussification" of the state, he would have done a helluva job. If that 2006 election was any indication -- and it was -- the political landscape in both Texas and the country at large needs a significant overhaul. The hucksters, the wealthy, and the twofaced rule; there is no room for Truth, and the little guys are quickly forgotten in all the muck. But Kinky, (briefly) down yet certainly not out, is still looking out for his fellow Americans, and he has much wisdom to impart. In this hilarious, thought-provoking manifesto, Kinky lays forth his ten commandments for improving the state of Texas and politics everywhere, and for restoring order, logic, decency, and above all a sense of humor back to this country. It's classic Kinky in a brand new way. And he might just have a point.

Alfred Hitchcock's classic film Rear Window gets an affectionate kick in the butt in this homage from master crime writer, philosopher, and equal-opportunity offender Kinky Friedman. It's a case of malaria versus murder when private dick extraordinaire Kinky Friedman comes down with a tropical disease, in the jungle known as New York City, and is confined to his loft on Vandam Street in lower Manhattan, a prisoner in his own home with only his cat and black puppet head as company (neither of whom are great conversationalists). With little to do but stare out the window in between bedridden bouts of fever and hallucinations, Kinky calls on assistance from the stalwart Village Irregulars, who proceed to dish out their own uniquely skewed brand of tea and sympathy, turning the loft into a virtual Mardi Gras of confusion and drunken debauchery. Suffering almost as much from company overload as from his fever, Kinky welcomes a rare moment of calm as he finds himself once again alone in his loft. Resuming his position at the kitchen window, he spots a pretty young woman in an apartment across the street. What he hopes might be titillating turns terrifying, however, as a man joins the woman and proceeds to attack her. Sure that he's witnessed a crime, Kinky calls in the cops, but, upon investigating his claim, they can find neither a victim nor an apartment across the street. In addition, no one else saw or heard anything that would ndicate a crime had taken place. Was it foul play or merely a fevered dream? Convinced that their friend is about to slip off into the land of eternal slumber, the Village Irregulars increase their vigilance and in the process raise the Kinkster's irritability level to an all-time high. Not to be deterred, however, Kinky sticks to his story and is rewarded when a few days later he sees the man in the apartment again, but this time with a gun. Outrageous, audacious, and ingeniously crafted, The Prisoner of Vandam Street is vintage Kinky: irreverent, clever, and full of the hardened philosophy and mordant wit that has earned him a vast and devoted readership. But what more would you expect from the writer The New York Times has called "The world's funniest, bawdiest, and most politically incorrect country music singer turned mystery writer"?