Articles by Brett Gelman
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Combover
Make the Book Cook
I mean what I say, and I say what I mean. That’s the way you really rise to the top. Full story
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Combover
Smart as a Rabbi
I’ve seen dead bodies before, but this is going to be rough. This one is going to sting right where my foreskin used to be. Full story
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Combover
That's Tokyo Town
He might have the glow of a Nazi, but he hates himself just like a good Jewish boy should. Full story
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Greetings From My Mind
The Reality TV KKK
Why do we give her our necks? Is it because we smell it? Is it because we secretly dream of it? Is it because of our shame? Full story
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Greetings From My Mind
DEATH: A Poem
Death is from Yesno. It's right next to Fresno. Full story
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Greetings From My Mind
Human Tragedy
What is human tragedy? How often does human tragedy happen? That's a simple question with a not so simple answer. Full story
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Greetings From My Mind
Left Stand Up!
As someone who is more liberal, I think liberals need to be less open. I know that's part of what it means to be liberal, but that trait can no longer be a part of our makeup. Full story
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Greetings From My Mind
Jesus/Hitler
We are the new Germans. Meaning the new Nazis. However, instead of Hitler, we have Jesus. We burn books for him. We kill for him. If Hitler met Jesus he'd probably try to hang out with him. Full story
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Toupee
A Hero Made of Shit
I’m done. I’m done with here. I’m done with this. Others pray. I am done.
“Did I ever tell you my dream of all dreams, Toupee?” Full story -
Toupee
Tropical Dream
These photos were found in a Wendy's men's room in Barstow, California, along with additional handwritten chapters from Brett Gelman's novel Toupee. Full story
The Mare
A New Story by Mary Gaitskill
Toppling a Delicate World
Being Gay and South Asian In America
There's No Sex in Prison Showers
We Usually Wore Our Underwear
Try Not to Destroy Your Life
The First Time I Took Molly
A Teacher and Her Student
Marilynne Robinson on Staying Out of Trouble
"Whitey" Isn't Very Popular in Boston
Interviews with Some of His Old Friends