Separating fact from fiction in the Lincoln pitchman's new book, "Greenlights"
I recently read Greenlights, so I knew which passage was fake...but as a native Austinite I think you captured his particular brand of Lone Star psychedelia! Those sleep stories are bananas. I love them. Our minister of culture is a pretty fascinating guy.
A. but mainly because it's just written well in a way that a professional writer like Matt couldn't help himself.
Saw him at a Cult show once, playing air drums off to the side of the stage. I'm guessing A, but I really have no clue.
I'm still sitting here trying to figure out why there were African tribesmen lining the banks of the Amazon river.
Did they fly in just to see Matt cum?
Are African tribesmen obsessed with celebrity spunk?
Or is it just dream African tribesmen who have the celebrity spunk fetish?
Does Matt have other deep seated fantasies that involve large groups of men observing his money shot?
So many questions...
Is this is what Matt means by "pondering the moment?"
I'm guessing A
I know B is real, I’ve heard him tell that story. I could see him calling his head a “nugget”. That would make C real. A is the fabrication.
I really don’t give a shit about someone else’s huyuasca trips, even if McConaughey is an excellent actor and seems like a good guy. Anyone who takes their college football as seriously as he does is alright alright alright in my book.
All are very strange, but I have to guess that ‘B’ did not come from McConaughey.
Can we yet admit that McConaughey is not actually any better than Brad Pitt? My generation wanted another Paul Newman and we didn't get him. Might be time to fold up the tent.
Sometimes I think McConaughey is really just his character in "Contact"
I heard him talk about his wet dream on a podcast interview. A seems very believable as well, haha.
A sounds like him but must be physically impossible. Spinning around fourteen times after nine beers would just end in falling and vomiting, but that's also an extraordinarily long piss. And then the process of checking if "a single drop" of piss was inside the hula hoop would require advanced scientific equipment. Didn't happen.
Sorry, anything Matt McConaughey actually gives me a rash. It starts on the inner thigh of my right leg and, by days end, I'm scratching my balls with a wire brush.
The Lincoln ads also left me chronically flatulent and almost ended my marriage.
As I read this I had my wife fetch the wire brush and my extra large bottle of Gas-X.
Looks like it's going to be an itchy, odor laden weekend.
I'm going with "A"! It's better than the Real McConaughey