A person made a good point in the comments recently, and it went something like this” “You sure liked the ice cream back when Grant was selling it.” Again, good point. But you know ice cream comes in many flavors, right?, including ‘Crap.” I spend 15 years telling everyone how delicious Grant’s ice cream was, because Grant wasn’t always pedaling crap. So it presents a conundrum to a humorist when she finally examines the content of her best friend’s ice cream to discover the main ingredient is crap. I mean, should she tell her readers this is crap after she’s been eating it herself for so long? If so, that will not be easy. So I thought about it for a year, and decided to fuck what’s easy and do what’s right.
Hey, all, this is a reminder (and I have to keep making them so Facebook doesn’t shut down my page like eBay did), Sister Louisa is not a person or an artist, but a brand, product, business and sad suckhole of a hipster bar in the Old Fourth Ward. Grant Henry, on the other hand, is an actual person, but also a public figure and a grown-ass, rich-ass adult male man who should face his critics rather than bawl about being criticized.
Good morning! Welcome to my war zone. You are witnessing the writing of a book. It’s in the mud-mask, curlers and Spanks phase of getting ready for the big date. Later, when others open the door to see the gorgeous finished product, lucky you will get to say you saw the effort that went into it. In short, it’s not pretty, but this is my bathroom mirror, get your own if you don’t like what you’re looking at. So back to Grant Henry (that’s right, I haven’t forgotten about you, motherfucker.)
I expected people to remind me that Grant Henry used to be a good person, but the last person I expected that from was Daniel Troppy, who was the first in our “catapult” group to be shunned by Grant as a non-believer. Don’t get me wrong, Daniel still can’t stand to be in the same room with Grant, and hasn’t been able to for years. Grant and Daniel have hardly spoken to each other since that day in 2001, when Daniel sat us both down and gravely informed us he’d been diagnosed HIV positive. Back then HIV was still a scary-ass fucking thing, and if you had it, pretty much the last dignity you could hope for was to [Read more…]
Morning! Today I’m giving Sister Louisa a break because right now Grant Henry is shrieking so loud that hordes of dazed fruit bats have prematurely awakened from hibernation. So I’ll focus on another wreck in the pile-up I now refer to as my personal “Dark Age.” This one came in the form of a custody case with my ex, and the guardian ad litem who had been assigned to our case, a woman I won’t mention by name other than to say that fuck yes I’m going to mention her name, it’s [Read more…]
In 2004 I helped make my best friend famous by writing about him for years in my columns and books. We actually had a pledge: “It is our duty to catapult each other into greatness.” In 2008, the print industry collapsed and my ability to provide him free publicity faded, as did my (and every writer’s) ability to make even a fraction of the living we used to make (writers will really relate to this).
In 2009, during the darkest and most financially scary time of my life, my best friend told me of his plans to open a bar based on a character we’d developed called Sister Louisa. I begged him to include me, he said fuck no. In 2010, the bar, Sister Louisa’s CHURCH, opened and quickly became one of the most popular bars in the world (not exaggerating, it’s official, Buzzfeed said so). He opened another CHURCH in Athens, and one morning he bragged to me [Read more…]