2.0

I have two questions for Bob Morris. One: how did you feel when you learned that your book, on which I’m sure you worked pretty hard, was being published with the most soul-scarring, eye-bleaching cover I’ve ever seen outside of the horror section? And two: would you like a little cheese with that whine? Man. If you ignore the SCARY SCARY cover, this book’s sole selling point is that it’s supposed to be a funny account of, and I quote, “double dating with my dad.” Well, it’s not funny, and while widowed father and gay son are both searching for love, they never double date. They just complain. A lot. And at great, great length.

This was like one of those endless, obligatory meals with relatives you don’t much like. You know the kind: the ones where at the end, everyone decides to skip dessert. Gah. Check, please!