A humorist and truth-teller from Alaska who has written for Esquire, Playboy, Salon and the Daily Beast. Hunter S. Thompson once called him a "morbid little bastard."
Full Bio: The Legend of Beckerman »Screw this. Screw that. Screw everything. And screw you.
The never-ending pursuit of truth and/or sexual humiliation.
Marty forever redefined the word “prodigy.” (Also: “misanthropic.”)
Awkward Q&As. Godawful song lyrics. Various failures.
Live performances, TV appearances, and other delights.
OK, I’ll admit it: I have become a groomzilla, the increasingly common (and dreaded) masculine version of a micromanaging bride.
Panic and paranoia became the national conversation, became the foreign policy, became the consensus reality.
Hemingway could drink God under the table. An excerpt from Marty's new book, The Heming Way.
It’s downright offensive to call people now, because you’re wasting precious time they could use to play on the Internet. A primer for how to talk with the ones closest to you.
This might surprise you if you’ve never received spam in your inbox, but nearly 50 percent of men wish they had a bigger member. (That must be a terrible affliction for you poor bastards; I feel your pain, except that I don’t.)
This was written in the week that he was cool and hilarious. Before he ruined his own joke with lame webcasts and a botched standup tour. Losing.
To many of the competitors it’s not a joke whatsoever. A touching profile of a no-touch sport.
You can only watch two people get it on for so long before it grows tedious. And unsavory.
If you wear these things in public, you might want a lawyer to explain the local indecent exposure laws.
