Daveda Gruber (born at some point in the somewhat distant past, died at some point in the recent past) is known for many things. A spare, fiercely blunt prose style. The captivating ambiguity of her philosophy. Her powerful and deeply unpleasant musk when she went grocery shopping Thursdays after the gym without showering first. These are what defined her as a literary icon; these are what etched her into the national consciousness.
Her first major work, The Blond who Found Jesus, about a blond who found Jesus, brought the young author roaring into the national spotlight. From its first words ("Once, there was a blond") to its last words ("and that's how she found Jesus"), it was a mesmerizing artistic statement, defining her instantly as an icon for blond Christians and people who were not blond Christians alike.
Following this legendary introduction to the world, there lies a a period shrouded in reclusive mystery, wherein she did not write for 35 years. What were her reasons for this self-imposed exile from the world of words? What was she thinking during her personal "dark ages"? We don't know, she didn't write a single fucking thing down.
Finally, after her legions of fans had nearly given up hope, Deveda's pen spoke out once more with the release of Tales of a Tiny Dog. After that, she died. This has been Deveda Gruber: An Artist's Life.
1. Gruber, Deveda. The Blond who Found Jesus.
2. Gruber, Deveda. Tales of a Tiny Dog.
Tucker Carlson's idiot brother just called New York mayor Bill de Blasio's spokeswoman a "LabiaFace."
Hey, have you guys ever seen a picture of a cat before? Well, guess what. It’s your lucky day, because I’m mixing the concept of a picture of my cat with the concept of the Internet!
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