"Anything Can Be Fixed, From a Game of Checkers to a World War."

Think smooth voices. Think love songs. Think romance the way it used to be.

Hello Folks!

How are we feeling? 

Has autumn’s palliative breeze prompted a spring in your step? Or has it left you bereft at the impending specter of winter and the cyclical death-sleep of nature?  Both answers are fine. It's a beautiful season. 

I want to talk about several crucial things. You might sense an unusual urgency to this particular newsletter. That is not in your imagination. Preseason is over. Regular season is underway. Be prepared to bow up. Effort, efficiency, expertise. These will be our watchwords. 

Time is of the essence. Days fly by like months, months like years. When it all adds up, we’ll be at the gate waiting -- hoping that is -- to get in. I think it’s fairly clear what I’m driving at. It’s the latest edition of my radically infrequent newsletter Please Take My Advice, and you have been tagged in. 

But first the Regulatory Rumba:

Terms & Conditions

Please Take My Advice has no opinion on skywriting, pro or con. Please do not ask Please Take My Advice to take a position. Contrary to outrageous claims to the contrary, reading Please Take My Advice aloud while listening to Frampton Comes Alive produces no “magical synergy.” Try if you must, but understand that you are wasting your time. The analgesic properties of Please Take My Advice, while palpable, are not vetted by the FDA and should not be advertised on the open market as a “miracle cure.” All and any suggestions and complaints regarding Please Take My Advice should be directed to: Bar/None Records, Hoboken, New Jersey.

Wow! Finally done with the small print and now we can get rolling, I’ve said it again and I’ll say it a third time: nothing quite so chilling as the cold hand of the regulatory arm on your shoulder. All the narcs out of the house? Let’s bring it in and here we go.

Hey Elizabeth.

Hey. Whassup?

I mean, you know whassup. You do a periodic newsletter and you haven’t done it very frequently and now it’s November and why are you just posting now?

Why is this always so antagonistic? 

That’s your interpretation. 

I hate that every newsletter has to start this way. 

Oh, is that so for the self-described “Ms. Transparency?” 

I’ve never described myself that way in my life. My strong preference is revealing nothing of myself. 

So you say…

So I say.

Quite obviously the biggest news in Paranoid Style world is the release of your forthcoming LP The Interrogator.  According to an article I read in Brooklyn Vegan, the first single “I Love The Sound Of Structured Class” was released on 8/28 and the full album is scheduled to be released by Bar/None Records on 2/2/24. Do I have that right? 

Yes. Of course. It was in Brooklyn Vegan. It’s obviously true.

I know you have a video of the song on You Tube. I’ve also heard tale of a “hype video” where you explain all things about The Interrogator. Would you post those videos here?

Done.

Wow! What a presentation! I’m certainly going to pre order either an LP copy of The Interrogator here or a CD version here. 

Since you mention Christianity, did you recently write something about the evangelical phenomenon known as the so-called “Prosperity Gospel” which changed the face of the American protestant church in the second half of the 20th century and how it is adjudicated for the New York Times Magazine? And that show The Righteous Gemstones. 

 When did I mention Christianity?

Whatever. I read the article. It was good. 

Hell yeah. Walton Fuckin’ Goggins. 

He rules. Can we agree that Justified kicked ass?

Absolutely! 

Hey, put up an except of that Righteous Gemstones piece, would you?

Sure! Get a taste of this.

“The show bears obvious similarities to its critically fetishized network peer “Succession.” In each, we focus on three entitled siblings, potential heirs to an empire built by their charismatically imperious father, and their desire, real or imagined, to transcend the implications of their birthright. But while the Roys of “Succession” are armored with stylish nihilism, the three Gemstone offspring, lieutenants in the family’s sprawling spiritual operation, are less mannered and far more relatable. Even as they behave badly, even appallingly, you can sense their maladroit grasping for the morality they’ve always understood to be interchangeable with their privilege.”

Whoa. That is trenchant. 

Trenchant is my middle name. Also Ann.

I heard you also wrote about the Replacements Tim reissue for the New Yorker website. Did you do that as rumored?

I did. 

Wow.  

Right?

Was your mother impressed? 

Yes, though she did ask why it wasn’t in the print magazine. 

Can I see an excerpt? 

 “Tim” commences with a binary choice. The opening track is called “Hold My Life,” and the decision is between fame—or at least a life-changing increase in notoriety—and something like a tactical retreat from the limelight. “Time for decision to be made,” Westerberg intones hoarsely over a driving pre-chorus: “Crack up in the sun / Or lose it in the shade.” A sentiment worthy of Jay Gatsby himself. By the end, the Replacements did a little bit of both.

Oh shit, dude! That is some excerpt. I am psyched to read this on the New Yorker website.

Please do! Link to it and share. 

Are you okay? It seems like you have a lot going on.

Absolutely good. 

Real quick: you did a cover story about Rose Zhang for the October/November issue of Golf Digest. Was that fun to do? 

Fun and stressful. I had to go to Manhattan. Such a crowded place. I did see Mocha Joe from Curb Your Enthusiasm, which was exhilarating. But, yes, it was an honor. I love Rose Zhang – the Olivia Rodrigo of LPGA golf. 

You know what I’m going to say…

Excerpt. 

Bingo.

Here goes:

It’s a sultry July day in Manhattan, and Zhang and I are taking in the sights at the Whitney Museum on the Hudson River. Among the most celebrated amateur golfers in the history of the sport, Zhang had made her rabidly anticipated, longawaited debut as a professional at the Mizuho Americas Open in June. Let’s stop and register this: What kind of 20-year-old has the burden of being long-awaited? What does that even mean? Twenty is the age when, in some distant formulation, the person you will eventually become has maybe, notionally, begun to assemble itself.

Man alive. Rose Zhang has one hell of a future ahead of her. 

Hell yeah. 

Alright, Elizabeth Ann Trenchant Nelson, I think we’ve done well here. Made up for lost time. 

I appreciate that. 

Anything else you want to say?

Just a little flare or prayer or whatever you wanna call it. I’m not particular. Mr. Dave Davies wrote:

And a promised lie you made us believe

For many men there is so much grief

And my mind is proud but it aches with rage

Strangers on this road we are on

We are not two, we are one

There is literally nothing more difficult than forgiveness, with the possible exception of Pilates. Hey, in my case Northport, Long Island remembers! But when the days grow short and the great clock strikes and we’re truly ready, from Gaza to the Grand Coulee Dam to the Capitol, one truth will irritatingly emerge: love’s the only engine of survival. We are not two, we are one.  

Elizabeth