Man, 1986 Never Seemed So Far Away

But they really ARE disturbing others, aren't they?

(From this book here.)

Zombie Romances: The Book?

I admire the moxie of this book, though you may wonder, "Has the time come for an anthology of zombie romance?"

According to Lori Perkins, editor of Hungry for Your Love, "The zombie mythos is the perfect metaphor for the end of an era, for a society beset with change it doesn't understand but knows is here."

Hmm. What about "This is a great way to capitalize on a cross-genre literary craze." (I do like the idea of recruiting romance writers to pen zombie stories, though. It's almost as good as having economists write poetry!)

What Would Happen If You Dressed Your Dog Up as the Velveteen Rabbit?

This.

(From a New Yorker contest where people dress their pets up as literary characters.)

Your eyes glow like naked livers burning in the sun.

What a rip-off! I went to the Surrealist Compliment Generator and I got this:

Troglodyte kidneys measure sardonic spasms not unlike the movements of an albatross buried in creosote.

That's not even a compliment!

Quintuple Vowels, Okay. The Letter 'G'? Not So Much.

The Associated Press Stylebook is the go-to reference for journalists questioning grammar. The Fake AP Stylebook is a Twitter service that mocks it very, very well. Examples follow:

—“Avoid using the letter ‘G’ as it is unlucky.”

—“Precede basic statements of fact with ‘allegedly’ to avoid accusations of bias: ‘the allegedly wet water,’ ‘the allegedly poisonous poison.’”

—“Use the quintuple vowel to transcribe the utterances of small children, ‘Daaaaaddy, I waaaant a Pooooony!’”

—“If you do not have an interviewees’ full title, use their most defining physical trait (e.g. ‘Alan Hayes, fat guy, said…’)”

—“The numbers one through ten should be spelled out while numbers greater than ten are products of the Illuminati and should be avoided.”

That Guy Is SUSPICIOUS

Recently, I was inside a coffee shop (yes, it was a Starbucks), when I noticed this gentleman out on the sidewalk.

He was looking about as suspicious as a person could. Shifty? Check. Surreptitious movements? Oh yeah. Non-fat latte? This guy is up to something!

He was constantly looking over his shoulder and monkeying with a baggy.

And then... oh my gosh, he's smoking it right there on the street! Is it crack? Sinsemilla? African yohimbe bark?

Wait a minute—

That's a meerschaum pipe! My dad used to smoke one of those... of course, he used tobacco...

Ah, but why was he looking around? It turned out that he was just waiting to meet someone. (Heheh, ouch.)

Computopia Does Not Allow Incorrectness

In 1969, a Japanese magazine called Shonen Sunday published an illustrated feature about what the future would look like when computers assisted with everything.

It would be a Computopia!

Here, we see how robots deal with classroom troublemakers... though based on the picture, the kid's main offense seems to be having the wrong answer on his Computopia screen. Maybe the kid in front of him tried to help:

"Psst, the answer is '75000'!'

"Huh?"

"Look out!"

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!"

More pictures from the article over here.

Touched by an Anvil

Researching The Pocket Guide to Brilliance, I learned that the sport of "anvil shooting" dated back to the Revolutionary War. American soldiers had started the tradition of firing guns in the air during July 4th celebrations, and next thing you knew, they got more ambitious. After all, why shoot a gun when you could launch an anvil?

Doing so is simplicity itself. First, get one large anvil.

Then, get another large anvil.

Finally, obtain a lot of high-grade gunpowder. Take your items to an open field. Place one anvil upside down. Fill its opening (anvils have cavities on the bottom) with gunpowder. Run a fuse out of there and put the second anvil on top of the first one.

Light the fuse! Enjoy the subsequent explosion and be sure to keep your eyes on the top anvil. If you followed directions, it should be somersaulting up over 200 feet in the air! The most important part of the game is making sure you don’t get touched by an anvil on its descent.

Now, pay attention as world champion anvil launcher Gay Wilkinson struts his stuff!

This May Not Be the Bookstore You Were Looking For

(The WFHBS is a real business... it has no website, but apparently does sell textbooks.)

Mugged in London: A Morality Play

Prologue: One of my relatives (“Timmy”) recently got an alarming IM from his aunt (“Aunt”) while on Facebook. The conversation went a little something like this:

Aunt: Hello Timmy… Are you there? Please come online.

Timmy: Hi.

Aunt: I’m not too good.

Timmy: What's wrong?

Aunt: Are you aware I’m in London right now?

Timmy: No...

Aunt: I’m stuck in London. I was mugged at a gun point last night. All my cash, credit cards, and my cell was stolen off me.

Timmy: Oh my God.

Aunt: It was scary, I’m just happy i was not hurt.

Timmy: I'm sorry to hear that. I actually escaped a mugging in London once. I'm glad you're not hurt too.

Aunt: I thank God am still alive and am still with my passport. OMG.

Timmy: What do you need me to do?

Aunt: I need you to help me with some money to settle my hotel bills and also get a cab to the airport... I will def refund it back to you as soon as i get back home.

Timmy: I really wish I could, but my account is literally empty and I don't get paid til Saturday.

Aunt: OMG.

Timmy: Can I call someone for you?

Aunt: You can wire it to me online here with your credit card www.westernunion.com. All you need is my name and location. I promise to pay back tomorrow.

Timmy: I really have no money at all, aside from $6 in my wallet. No joke. Would you like me to call someone for you?

Aunt: I’m freaked out.

Timmy: Don't freak out, it's going to be ok.

Aunt: Ok. My friend… I only need $300. I promise to pay you back tomorrow.

Timmy: Should I call your husband?

Aunt: He’s with me.

Timmy: Yikes.

Aunt: How much can you help me with at the moment?

Timmy: I literally have six dollars.

Aunt: What about your credit card?

Timmy: Don't have one.

Aunt: OMG. I have no phone. Am freaked out. At this moment you are the only one online.

Timmy: If this is really my aunt, then what are the names of your mother and father in law?

Aunt: What is all this? If is not me you can not send money on my name.

Timmy: For all I know the same people who mugged you have your ID, and are using your Facebook account. Please answer the question.

Aunt: Will you help me if i should answer it?

Timmy: Yes, if you tell me the names of your mother and father-in-law.

Aunt: How much will you help me with?

Timmy: Just answer the question.

Aunt: How much? Promise.

Timmy: As I said, I don't have any money.

Aunt: Then no question. Bye.

Timmy: Please stop using my aunt's account for your hoax. Not cool at all.

— Aunt is offline.

Epilogue: The subtext to this dialogue is fascinating. We can sense that the good-hearted nephew is increasingly suspicious that the oldest fraud in the book (the infamous “Mugged Aunt in London Facebook IM Scam”) is being perpetrated on him. But is he actually wary to the crime when he makes his outrageous claims about lacking a credit card and possessing just a few bills in his wallet?

As for the scam artist, the Facebook police force (working with Interpol) have narrowed their suspects down to a Cockney cutpurse, a Nigerian prince, or Grammy nominee Lemmy Kilmeister.

And finally, I learned some valuable lessons from this.

1.) Never access personal pages from a public computer.

2.) Change my password frequently.

3.) Subsequent to being mugged, IMing relatives to ask for financial help is apparently not a particularly viable option.

Danse Gooshers Sind Super Toll!

I'm not sure how they got Ray Bradbury to host this German kids' program, but the results are wunderbar.

I Should Have This Imprinted on My Titles!

Dan Brown's Got Nothing on Me

What if someone sampled everything you’ve written and found your worst 20 sentences? I shudder at the thought.

A writer over at the Telegraph chose some of Dan Brown’s most unfortunate sentences; what follows are a few of them. And after them are some random samplings from my upcoming work.

So who's the worse writer? You be the judge!

—The Da Vinci Code, chapter 4: He could taste the familiar tang of museum air - an arid, deionized essence that carried a faint hint of carbon - the product of industrial, coal-filter dehumidifiers that ran around the clock to counteract the corrosive carbon dioxide exhaled by visitors.

Editorial comment: Ah, that familiar tang of deionised essence.

—The Da Vinci Code, chapter 4: As a boy, Langdon had fallen down an abandoned well shaft and almost died treading water in the narrow space for hours before being rescued. Since then, he'd suffered a haunting phobia of enclosed spaces - elevators, subways, squash courts.

Editorial comment: Other enclosed spaces include toilet cubicles, phone boxes and dog kennels.

—The Da Vinci Code, chapter 5: Only those with a keen eye would notice his 14-karat gold bishop's ring with purple amethyst, large diamonds, and hand-tooled mitre-crozier appliqué.

Editorial comment: A keen eye indeed.

—The Lost Symbol, chapter 1: He was sitting all alone in the enormous cabin of a Falcon 2000EX corporate jet as it bounced its way through turbulence. In the background, the dual Pratt & Whitney engines hummed evenly.

—The Da Vinci Code, chapter 17: Yanking his Manurhin MR-93 revolver from his shoulder holster, the captain dashed out of the office.

Editorial comment: Oh – the Falcon 2000EX with the Pratt & Whitneys? And the Manurhin MR-93? Not the MR-92? You’re sure? Thanks.

—The Da Vinci Code, chapter 4: Five months ago, the kaleidoscope of power had been shaken, and Aringarosa was still reeling from the blow.

Editorial comment: Did they hit him with the kaleidoscope?

My Submissions:

5. You go to someone’s house for dinner and find that they have made baby rabbit stew and lamprey surprise. (“Surprise! We made lampreys!”)

Editorial comment: This is going to be published?

4. Did you see that? Nose-picking requires more “nosologic scrutiny.” I’ve been saying this for years!

Editorial comment: No, seriously. Like, it'll be in bookstores?

3. When Roman poet Gaius Catullus (84 BCE – 54 CE) read something he didn’t like, he called it cacata charta— “poop paper.”

Editorial comment: They should print this book on cacata charta so that it will stink in two different ways.

2. That means that humans barf WAY more than almost any other species of animal.

Editorial comment: This is too easy.

1. You deflate your bladder pretty often. (What a great sentence!)

Editorial comment: Actually, that's not half-bad!

Well, there you have it. Judges, your scorecards? Hey, I lose! (By which I mean, "I win!")

How to Keep a Clean Park

Volumes Aloft

By Thomas Guignard for the Geneva Book Fair.