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Rend Magritte/Harrison Saunders Primary Colors. \(In the film is John Trapeople take hits, and others don’t. I’m trying to come up with a name for this kind of novel. “Celeb fixion,” let’s call it. Here’s the only reference in the novel to Farrah Fawcett, one of my favorite Texans \(I think there ought to be a statue of Farrah in Kristofferson] was quite successful and among his many conquests, reportedly, was the young Farrah Fawcett, about whom Kris was said to have remarked: ‘Just enough butt to keep my balls off the bed.'” There are enough disclaimers in there to satisfy National Enquirer standards while still deriving the titillation the tabloids feed on. In another instance there is a riff on the size of O.J.’s penis. The source is Bud Shrake in conversation with the Kinkster. Here is how Herr Friedman spins this one: “In my opinion, of course, O.J. was punished enough when they revoked his membership card to Hooters. That kind of cruel cut is something from which a man seldom comes back. One of the only guys I know who actually was a friend of O.J.’s is Bud Shrake, .who’s been a sportswriter for many years and once made the eyewitness locker-room observation that O.J. had the second-largest penis in all of sports” \(the passage goes on to name baseball player Cesar Cederio as Numero Uno in the short the locker rooms of the NBA might have produced some dangling contenders. I also recall a luncheon conversation with Shrake about the O.J. case. I remember him saying he was a friend of one of O.J.’s golfing partners \(and perhaps he is of O.J. as well, though I certainly didn’t get that imprespects of the case \(the trial was in the thick question of O.J.’s willie. What does all of this have to do with the novel? Willie Nelson likes to play golf, O.J. likes to play golf, and one thing leads to another. Speaking of Bud Shrake, there’s an interesting identification of Shrake as “the coauthor of Harvey Penick’s Little Red Book.” This is true. He has also been a sportswriter as mentioned in the quotation above. But more to the point here, he’s the author of a book called Willie: An Autobiography, told in the songster’s words and containing all of the major anecdotes about Nelson that by now have become as flat as yesterday’s whine. But Shrake, I submit, should be credited first of all as a novelist, the author of three of the better Texas novels of the last thirty years: But Not For Love, Blessed McGill, and Strange Peaches. None of them are detective novels. Looking randomly at a page, I see this exchange between Kinky and Sammy Allred \(who is not nearly as funny as he once put in the role of straight man, is saying that “Leon [Russell] didn’t come” and the Kinkster interrupts, “Sexually?” Again, I’m on the floor. I will say this: to me the funniest section of the book is the “Acknowledgments,” which is delivered after all the hagiographizing of Willie Nelson is over. The Kinkster is in Australia, in a hotel room, “having sexual relations with a young Australian bird” when they are interrupted by a hotel functionary who has arrived to check the minibar. “‘Hi,’ it said. ‘I’m here to check the minibar.’ `I’m right in the middle of someone,’ [Kinky] said.” I’m sure I’m the last to hear this one, but it’s pretty funny, in a 1975 kind of way. Don Graham’s Giant Country: Essays on Texas will be published in March, 1998, by TCU Press. NOVEMBER 7, 1997 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 27