This little piggy went to market.
This little piggy stayed home.
This little piggy had roast beef.
This little piggy had none.
This little piggy went ‘Wee-wee-wee’ all the way home.
Which little piggy do you think has the best grasp of theoretical physics? I really need to discuss an idea I just had concerning string theory.
Having a birthday makes me, like most people, ruminate a bit on the subject of getting old. Not that I am – oh, no. Rather, I’m aware of the fact that other people are doing it and it makes me sad for them and wonder what they see in it.
We seem to forget this, but modern medicine has increased our life expectancy to the point that we keep plugging along in the fast lane long after our bodies are begging to be sent to the recycle bin. Parts just wear out after a while, like the prostate and the ability to chew our food. (Interesting aside: the dog is the only other animal on the planet with a prostate. You’re welcome.)
The average life expectancy in the
See, people didn’t live long during the Paleolithic, a fact that can be attributed to several things, including saber tooth tiger attacks and lack of HMO access. If you made it to thirty you were considered lucky.
This, of course, means that were I to be living in the Stone Age, I would now have attained the status of “annoying old geezer.” Observe:
Offspring’s Offspring: We’re going mammoth hunting, Grampa. Want me to bring you back a tusk?
Me: (toothless cackle) Well, sonny, have fun! You’re just lucky you get to use those fancy spears!
OO: Oh, geez. Here we go again.
Me: That’s right! Back in my day, we didn’t have any of those new-fangled stone tools you’re so keen on. We had to use wood! Wood, I tell ya!
OO: Grampa, I really have to go now.
Me: And we didn’t hold with this ‘wheel’ nonsense, either. If you couldn’t drag it, you didn’t need to move it. Lazy – that’s what you young people are, these days!
OO: Bye, Grampa. I’ll bring you back a rhino turd.
Because I live in the modern world, though, I won’t get to be that old geezer for another thirty or forty years. Instead I have nothing but a mid-life crisis and yearly prostate exams to look forward to.
I guess it depends on who’s giving the prostate exam, eh?
Humor-blogs.com is still in its prime.
<inhale>
Mob beast projects/care and feeding of emus/definite end/world without Bush/dark matter in a Thermos/South Park/The Wire/cup filled with joy/futuristic feather duster/large-breasted/personal waffle passes/cooking gratuitously on a thoroughfare/pleasantly announcing banned arrays/intimate workings of the environment/designer accent/emu breeding/skilled jeans carpenters/lesbian physicists/our little corner of the anthill/the color of nowhere/tomorrow is always white and blue/“But Sam,” said Frodo, “I’m pregnant!”/Nada Brahma/Hitler vs. the Bunny/all the world’s a stage/establishing interruption pressures/shining equilibrium destroying fundamentalists
</exhale>
…and I’m out.
Humor-blogs.com doesn’t need to pull stunts like this.
Well, I’ve done it.
Though I thought it would never be done, I’ve done it.
I finished editing my novel, and have queried an agent.
Now, rest assured, I have no illusions. The first agent will probably not be interested. The fifth will probably say no. I may never sell this particular manuscript. My collection of short-story-rejection-slips will now become a collection of short-story-and-novel-rejection-slips.
But the fact remains – I finished a manuscript and submitted it.
There’s a finality inherent in this that actually surprises me. I can no longer beg for more time, because I need to edit it again, or because I’m not happy with the beginning (I’m not) or because I’m waiting on another critique.
Rather, I think it’s as good as it’s going to get, and I have sent it out into the world to sink or swim.
I’d ask you to wish me luck, but I think we all know that luck really doesn’t have anything to do with it. If I’ve written a good story, it’ll do well. If I haven’t… well, then I’ll write another one. And now that this one is finished, I may have better luck continuing with another one.
*Sniff* They grow up so quickly, don’t they?
“I need you to write a blog post for me.”
Once again, that’s how it started.
“Go on,” he said. He ran his fingers through his hair, obviously trying to look like a frantic writer in the midst of a creative streak but only succeeding in looking like a jet-lagged emu with dandruff. “I don’t want anybody to think I’ve abandoned this blog, but I have to meet this self-imposed and totally unnecessary deadline of having this novel edited and queried before my birthday.”
See, that’s how it goes around here. Wolf goes into a creative slump, or he gets busy, and guess who gets to fill in for him? That’s right – me. God knows Dexter isn’t going to do it. That boy has no creative writing skills whatsoever. Sure, he’s a wizard with a calculator and a protractor, but give him a free copy of MS Word and a MacBook Air and he still couldn’t write his way out of a paper bag.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” I told him, “but I’m not particularly happy about it. I’m not happy with you about that movie, either.”
“Why not?”
“Anita wasn’t your wumpus-herder ex-girlfriend, she was mine.”
Wolf shrugged. “So? You weren’t going to appear in the film, and I needed a reason to go to Rigel 5.”
“Okay, first of all, she doesn’t live on Rigel 5, she lives in Slodovetskiwazaskatsia. Don’t know where you got that nonsense. And no, I’m not appearing on film. Cameras steal your soul.”
He shook his head. “Fine. I’m sorry. It’s not like anybody watched it, anyway, but I apologize. You can put something about it into your blog post, all right?”
That’s when I walked away, muttering to myself. ‘Twas never like this in the old country.
Well, apparently my creative vision is suffering from astigmatism. The top twenty finalists have been chosen in the YouTube contest, and I wasn’t chosen.
In fact, not only was I not chosen, I was sent a ‘cease-and-desist’ letter, along with a coupon for two Frosties from my local Wendy’s restaurant.
Talk about a mixed message.
So thank you for all of your well wishes and prayers – you can stop now. Really. And I’m not going to let this get to me. Not only am I starting work on Episode II of Dexter and Wolf’s Adventures, but I shall upload Episode I: The Extended Director’s Special Cut Edition this weekend. The special edition will feature not only a ‘play’ button and a ‘pause’ button, but also a ‘volume control’ for your viewing enjoyment. So please enjoy.
This post is sobbing out its disappointment along with the others over at humor-blogs.com.
I think I’m going to get one of those Bluetooth headset thingies for my cell phone. Not because I’m always on the phone – the exact opposite, in fact – but because that way I can talk to the other people in my head and I won’t look like I’m insane.
You know those chalk outlines that are drawn around dead bodies?
Have you ever noticed the position that they’re in? Almost without fail, they’re always in the same position.
First of all, it looks uncomfortable. I mean, if I found myself in that position, it wouldn’t be long before I would have to move around to relieve the discomfort. It’s a good thing that the person is dead, otherwise I can imagine that there’d be all sorts of complaining and whining going on.
Secondly, it makes me think that it would be extremely hazardous to just lie down in that position, for you would run the risk of some overeager chalk-outline-drawing guy running up and drawing a chalk outline around you. Then you’d have to sit up and say, “What are you doing? I was just taking a nap!” And they would be all apologetic, and it might get sort of uncomfortable. On the flip side, however, I suppose you could take the opportunity to ask them exactly how one goes about becoming a chalk-outline-drawing professional, on the slight chance that such a career move appeals to you.
But back to the outline. It kind of looks like the person was waving, doesn’t it? It’s like, here’s Joe, waving to the FedEx guy, and then he was surprised mid-wave by the sidewalk coming up to meet him really fast.
“Hey, Carl! How’s it –” Crunch!
So I’ve decided that if I ever reach the point in my life where there’s going to be a chalk outline drawn around me (and hopefully that point will be at the end of my life rather than inconveniently placed in the middle) I’m going to be different. I’m going to put both arms over my head, so they’ll think that I thought I was Superman and was unpleasantly surprised.
Either that, or I’m going to form the ‘M’ shape from that YMCA song. I can’t decide.
This post is outlining the others over at humor-blogs.com.
Once upon a time (on February 23, to be exact) I learned about a contest. It seemed a simple contest, really, and it was held by YouTube. It was their Sketches II contest, and the rules were thus:
You must create a sketch comedy style film. At least one of the main characters must mess about with a recognizable musical instrument, and the theme of the sketch must be something to do with a road trip. The sketch may be no longer than 3 minutes, and the deadline for submission is
I have been thinking about trying a short film for a while anyway, so I did some quick figuring. “This means,” said I to myself, “that I have about 10 days to write a script, build some props, film the thing, learn some brand new editing software, edit the film, produce it and upload it, all while holding down a full time job and remaining a productive member of society. Any halfway sane person would walk away right now.”
I, of course, started writing the script that evening.
So that’s where I’ve been the last week or so, and I apologize for not visiting as much as in the past, and for not leaving as many comments on your blogs. I did read them when I had a chance, but my Dostoevsky-like comment-writing ability was temporarily overshadowed by the birth of my Spielberg-like directing ability.
And the film? Finished, edited and submitted. If you like, you may view it here. (I’d embed it, but it does all sorts of funky things to the formatting here, and I’m still trying to attract lurkers, and everybody knows that lurkers are frightened off by bad formatting.)
The worst part of this whole thing was getting it under 3 minutes. You know how directors complain that they have to sacrifice their creative vision in order to satisfy the public? Well, the bloody remnants of my creative vision are lying in a gory puddle all around my computer, and this is where I have to give my wife credit – in a good way, of course. Her objectivity stepped up and took charge, and ruthlessly cut away the excess four minutes (yes, the unedited version was over seven minutes long) without whining. Well, there was whining, but it was mine.
“What? We can’t lose that line! It’s integral to the plot!”
To which she would respond, “You don’t need it. Trust me.” And then she would slash away with a few mouse clicks, and another awesome bit of dialogue would crash to the floor, writhing in agony as it died a creative (rather messy) death.
And she did an excellent job. She kept the creative vision alive, and we skated in at three minutes exactly. YouTube says it’s
So now I wait. Some judges will pick the best twenty films over the next two weeks, and then those twenty will be posted for the general YouTube community to vote on. Then the top ten filmmakers will get two weeks to make another sketch, the theme of which is kept secret until the ten are announced. The best of those ten wins the prize.
So I hope you enjoy the film. There will be other episodes, I’m pretty sure, whether I win this thing or not. If I get into the top twenty, I will post another blog, begging you all to come and vote for me. If I don’t get in, I will post another blog, whining and complaining and blaming it on being misunderstood as an artist.
And I will be releasing a director’s cut of “Road Trip,” I think, over the next few days. Not all seven minutes, but with some of my awesome dialogue resurrected. Stay tuned.
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