Apologies for the light posting today, a phenomenon which is sadly sure to repeat itself between now and Labor Day. We’re scrambling to prepare for two major reporting trips—one to East Africa, the other to the American Heartland. On top of that, we’ve got a lecture to prepare for—next Tuesday, we’ll be regaling Brooklynites about the history of Zima (the clearmalt beverage, not the Elm City-born actress).
We did want to note, however, that we’ve recently come into temporary possession of a copy of Klaus Kinski’s hard-to-find autobiography, Kinski Uncut. It was actually loaned to us by a loyal Microkhan reader, who has thus earned our eternal gratitude. Though we’re not looking forward to next week’s whirlwind travel to the Midwest, we’re comforted by the prospect of digging into Kinski’s sure-to-be-insane tome. We’ve actually been entertaining ourselves by opening to random pages and reading out-of-context passages. We kid you not, this is what we just stumbled across:
When she cooks, she wears nothing but an apron, which exposes her naked ass. Even when her upper body’s all spiffed up and she’s wearing garters, stockings, and high heels, and even some horrible hat, she sticks out her naked ass toward me. Everywhere and always her hairy naked ass, which glares at me like an order, like a command that I can’t resist.
Kinski Uncut is 322 pages long. Wish us luck—and courage.
(Image via Kult Movie Maximus)