Woody Allen’s Voice

The thoughtful folks at Audible.com just sent me an offer I can’t refuse – Introducing the Woody Allen collection!

Oh good. Because if there’s one thing more soothing than Allen’s nervous tics and shrugs, wild gesticulation, creepy old lechery, refusal to age gracefully and cloying self-deprecation, it’s his nasal, fretful, snivelling voice droning in my earbuds, stuttering forth his inadequacy like some weird badge of pride.

Thanks, guys.  What next, an entire download full of tracks of mating cats?

You know, the males have barbed penises. It’s why they scream like that.

Thanks for not making me a cat, God. My vagina and I owe you one.