Furious Goodness and Light

By William Green

A simply hilarious account of a year in the life of the self proclaimed Doctor of Manliness. A man in the midst of a slow motion nervous breakdown. He spends most of his days living "in his mind" hiding from reality and his wife and three kids. He suffers from ADHD and has a large head. The events in this book are real or real enough to the author. I mean, he really does imagine himself riding on the backs of the elderly. Literally. Anyway. This is not a polically correct book by any stretch of the imagination.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Green
• Release date: Mar 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458094896

William Green

William Green has written for many publications in the US and Europe, including Time, Fortune, Forbes, Fast Company, The New Yorker, The Spectator (London), and The Economist. He edited the Asian edition of Time while living in Hong Kong, then moved to London to edit the European, Middle Eastern, and African editions of Time. As an editor and coauthor, he has collaborated on several books, including Guy Spier’s much-praised memoir, The Education of a Value Investor. Born and raised in London, Green studied English literature at Oxford University and received a master’s degree in journalism at Columbia University. He lives in New York with his wife and their two children.

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

The following is an account of a year in my life. They call me The Doctor of Manliness. I am neither a Doctor nor Manly. What I am is a beautiful husband of a wife and a wonderful father of some children. I have a firm belief that I was a Pterodactyl in a previous life, and that I may be The Christ. Humans make me nervous, and I dream of one day having a pet woodchuck. I hope by the end you will have a better understanding of my Goodness. Thanks for reading my story.

Saturday, February 2

Groundhog Day

I've been home alone for 8 hours and I’m starting to think that I might be a groundhog. I mean THE groundhog, the one who saw his shadow. With all these thoughts running thru my head, killing the dog, setting myself on fire ect , maybe these are the thoughts of an overweight groundhog gone completely mad. It does explain a lot, my scatter brain attention deficit mind ricocheting all over the known universe of thought. Groundhogs, or as I like to be referred to as woodchucks, do wear top hats, they really do! So this sudden unexplainable yearning to wear one makes sense only if I am indeed Groundhog Phil. How did I get here and father children, my wife must be a wackjob to do it with a woodchuck. Unless we, yes we are all groundhogs. Is there a groundhog Jesus? OK, I went astray (or is that ashtray?) somewhere. It also explains why I suck at playing the banjo, seeing how I have no fingers, well just these cute little rodent hands.

Sunday, February 3

Just finished setting up the Winnie the Pooh tent, a place where all real men watch the super bowl from (in a pinch a Dora tent would also work). I have my computer set up in here so I can write uninterrupted. My camp is situated in the far corner of the living room with a perfect view of the television. The stupid kids keep trying to bring their toys in here, wife is upstairs napping again (she's better off up there anyway, no need to see this)

Monday, February 4

Patriots Smatriots, steroid freaks in tights chasing around a little ball, slapping each others bums. No Thanks

Saturday, February 9

Thoughts of Ruben

Ruben is gone and his bitches are laying eggs like crazy. We got maybe one a week when he was alive, now about 3 a day. I guess not being tormented day and night by the craziest bad ass rooster the earth has ever known might have something to do with it. The extra eggs however don’t make up for the huge void left by his passing. We had (I'm starting to cry, sorry) some good times, me and that little fella. I used to love how he would greet me each day like he was some rabid mutant wolf hybrid rooster who never saw me before in his life. He would circle me all fluffed up dragging one wing on the ground doing some kind of Native American sun dance. Then start pecking my foot in a fit of rage followed by bashing his chest into my boot to get me to submit to his greatness. That lasted about a minute, and happened every day. Then we would pal around and he would eat out of my hand or maybe if I put him on my shoulder he would try to peck my

eyes out. Another thing he did was he would start crowing about 1:30 am, and not stop until about noon the next day. He once attacked our other rooster, who was about 4 times his size and gave him a savage beating. When I say he gave him a savage beating I mean he got the top of his own head torn off to the tune of a two hundred dollar vet bill. Anyway, I've been thinking lately of getting another bantam rooster. A little baby (starting to cry again) rooster I will raise him as my own son. He will live on my shoulder, we can go on hikes together, I will teach him to talk and play board games. I don’t know, maybe he would also be named Ruben, or Little Jerry Seinfeld would be better. Or name him after my late one eyed cat Dennehey(who was named after the very manly actor Brian Dennehey). Dennehey live about 5 years longer than any cat deserves to live. Dennehey once made love to a Rotweiller(I'll save that very true story for another time). Ok, he will be Little Jerry Seinfeld, and I will love him.

PUTTING HER FOOT DOWN

Me and the Mrs.

First of all, no dame is comes into the House of Manliness trash talking my new rooster. So back off. Secondly, you of all people should know of my loyalty to my animal friends, whether they are real or imagined, or not even born yet.

Ok, honey...calm down. Go feed your turtles and try and catch that mouse in the barn you want to adopt. By the way...do your friends know you drink tea and help with the laundry?

Tea made from the blood of my enemies

Saturday, February 16

Staples

Can I help you? Say what? Can you help me? Sure, how about turning you into my own personal punching bag, that would be a big help. You can help me by having what I'm looking for at the front of the store when I walk in, or have a huge sign pointing me in the right direction. If I can't find it on my own you and your stupid store have failed. Oh, gee mister, let’s hold hands and walk around the store together and find your stuff. The world is one big team you know. Asking me if I need help is like asking if I need a hug. Not from you Mr. Excrement. Now get out of my face before one of us starts to bleed.

Saturday, February 16

Hair Cuts

.....and don't be talking to me when you cut my hair. Hello, I'm supposed to be getting a haircut here, keep your mouth shut. And don’t show me the back of my head with a mirror, just don't! Here is how the perfect haircut should go. I boot open the door and glare at you, you hold up scissors and point at them. I give a very slight nod. Then you cut my hair, I pay then leave. End of transaction.

History of the Banjo

By this time everyone on board is flailing at the strings and screaming incoherently, all bringing themselves way past the point of madness. Rational thought is lost. All of a sudden at the very peak, when you just knew it couldn't get any crazier, one of the larger fellows, eyes closed, starts swinging his headharp(stringed instrument made from human skull) wildly, smashing anything in its path. Priceless dinnerware, kittens, fellow Vikings, nothing was safe. This triggered the rest of the ship to do the same, hundreds of three hundred pound Vikings pulverizing each other as a way to get pumped up for the upcoming pilagefest that was about begin. Reaching port this lunacy would spill off the ship and into the streets where the harvesting of more raw materials for their headharps would begin. The broken pieces of harps left behind were the precursor to the modern banjo.

Saturday, February 23

Today I need to fix Pinocchio’s broken leg, I have to re-drill his little knee and fit a larger dowel in place of the one that broke. It shouldn't be too much of a problem unless I split the wood when I drill it. Also on the agenda is fixing Othneil's chair. The chair is a large leather chair with a steel tubular frame. The frame is split and twisted and I'm going to try to weld it. In addition, I need to cut up a piece of 1/2 birch plywood into 3x3 blocks for my wife’s tiny paintings.

Saturday, February 23

Fixed his leg

The leg operation was a success. The welding of the chair is done and I think it will hold, although I weld about as good as