Gary Hoover's Blog

September 29, 2011

My very first blog post on here was one in which I asked if I should get a Twitter account (actually it was an excuse to use old, stale facebook posts as filler rather than coming up with something fresh, but let's not split hairs). Shortly after that post, I got a Twitter acount and, since I can use the posts from it here as filler, I thought I'd do just that.

If you'd like these kind of gems clogging your twitter, you can follow me @garyhoover1

I just realized that no matter how hard I work, or what I accomplish, I'll never be as loved as William Shatner . . . cool, no more pressure

I wonder if Queen Elizabeth ever screams: "OFF WITH HIS HEAD!" just to mess with people . . . 'cause I know I would.

Wouldn't it be awful to be driving home smelling delicious barbecue . . . only to find someone had been killed in a tragic house-fire?

I want my tombstone to say: "Well, at least it wasn't auto-erotic asphyxiation" . . . that'll fool them.

Chuck Norris would have shot Greedo first . . . and then he would have shot George Lucas before he had the chance to %#$%@ edit it.

I think the line between having a healthy interest in something and being a nut is crossed when you start wearing costumes.

The 28th rule of Fight Club is: "You do NOT motorboat Meatloaf's tits."

Want to get rich? Don't write a book. Do something less degrading with more demand and less supply. Like prostitution.

You know those "Where's George" dollar bills? Am I the only one who always logs in and enters strip clubs?

I'm convinced that, with proper care, boxer-shorts can last 20 years. . . though my wife might argue that point.

You can now get all of your ICONIC GAGA MOMENTS on X-Finity . . . does anyone else see anything wrong with that statement?

Am I the only one who likes taking off my shoes, shirt etc. and relaxing in nothing but my boxers? I won't be going back to that restaurant

When Superman farts, it must be tough to try to blame the guy who didn't just blow a hole in the wall.

I think Abraham Lincoln was the first and last man to wear a beard without a mustache and not look like a tool.

Does it make me homophobic if I'm reluctant to eat white asparagus because they look so much like little penises? Is black asparagus bigger?

Note to self: Putting a black bra on my head and talking like Mickey Mouse doesn't seem to put the wife in the mood.

Everybody who doesn't smell like a long-dead and decaying wildebeast, raise your hand. . . Not so fast guy on the treadmill next to me.

I rationalize eating fries in the car with the belief that grease and salt help me grip the wheel-Like rosin helps a pitcher grip a baseball

Radio Dr.: "I've treated 10,000 men with erectile dysfunction." Cool! My Dr. doesn't need a boner. Not sure why he's bragging though.

Not sure if it's really cool or sort of sad that the supervisor setting up the toilet paper display thinks what he's doing is so important.

When dementia comes, I hope I’ll be strolling through candy forests…but I’ll probably attending to Fatty Arbuckle’s personal hygiene.

Just saw a kid in a Malibu race a kid in a Ford Fusion. It was the Special Olympics of street-drag.

Han saves Luke twice, then when Luke saves Han from Jabba, Han says: "Now I owe you 1". No. Luke still owes 1. Space pirates can't do math.

Apparently the lollipops at the bank are for anyone . . . or the teller was afraid to say anything after I popped one in my mouth.

When someone says: "No pun intended", are they really saying: "Look how clever I was to notice this could have a double meaning"?

If you collect all of Superman's toenail clippings and combine them to make invincible body armor, that would be really cool...but gross

Sometimes I wonder if I'm the evil twin and in some alternate universe there's a nicer, clean-shaven version of me.


And the one I'll post to promote this: "Am I the first person to tag a single blog with wildebeast, Meatloaf's tits and erectile dysfunction?"



http://www.landofnodtrilogy.com/

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June 23, 2011

. . . either figuratively or literally (Can a fictional character ‘literally’ die? I mean it is ‘literature’ . . . sometimes language makes my brain hurt).

And, no, I’m not a hater. I enjoyed the Harry Potter series, and I’d love to see more. But I’m looking at this with the pragmatic eye of a story-teller. Let me explain.

We knew, by the 2nd or 3rd book that Dumbledore would die. It was clear that we were seeing the set-up for a battle between the ultimate underdog vs. an incredibly powerful, evil wizard. We knew that such a battle would never work if the greatest wizard in the world was standing in the wings ready to slap Harry’s hand and jump into the square circle with him . . . so we knew that Dumbledore had to die before the story could conclude.

But here's the thing: As of the end of Deathly Hallows, we had a new ‘World’s Greatest Wizard’.

The recent talk of Pottermore has generated interest in the possibility of new books and the obvious choice for a follow-up would be to feature the kids that we saw at the end of DH. Sure, J. K. Rowling could start the story with all new characters at a different time . . . but that wouldn’t give us what we want.

A story featuring the new kids would be the only thing that would capture all of the magic of the first series for the fans . . . and for that to work, Harry must die. So your choice is: Get new books and watch Harry die . . . or do without any new books.

Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but that’s the way I see it.

In the case of the Harry Potter character and a new series, “Neither can live while the other survives”.


http://www.landofnodtrilogy.com/
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June 2, 2011

Fellow author, Connie J. Jasperson always comes up with great blog entries. As I was discussing her latest (http://conniejjasperson.wordpress.com/) with her and some other authors, I commented (some might say ‘whined’) that I can never come up with any good blog topic ideas. And then – in an act of stupidity that rivaled that of Charlie Sheen when he decided he didn’t need writers . . . or a hit show to continue raking in bucks by the truckload – I suggested that if someone would throw out a topic, I’d write a blog on it.

Connie responded with one word:

Pretzels.

Pretzels?!?!

Are you &^%$^$#@ kidding me?!?!

How am I supposed to write a blog about #$@%$#@% pretzels? I mean, sure, I could probably string a few hundred words together, but will they illustrate the sort of thoughtful insight that my readers have come to expect from me?

So my first stop was Wikipedia. You can find anything online, can't you? I remember discussing that concept with a friend once. I made the comment: "It's great that nobody has to feel alone anymore. I'll bet you can find a facebook group of just about anything. I'll bet that if you find yourself feeling a little . . . odd . . . because you find Miss Piggy sexy you can go on facebook . . . and find a group for that.”

. . . and sure enough, right after I said that, I looked it up, and THERE WAS ONE. I am now one of 7 proud members: http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/gr...

Wikipedia tells me pretzels are from Germany. The thing I remember most about the time I was in Germany wasn't the Alps or the history or the architecture. I remember that they had Hogan’s Heroes . . . dubbed in German . . . on the TV. Is it just me, or is that really funny? I mean, if the Germans made a show depicting Americans as complete buffoons, I don’t think I’d want to watch an English-dubbed version of that show . . . (though I guess that could possibly explain ‘Jersey Shore’).

One of the other things I remember about Germany was an American themed cafe in which . . . everyone dressed like Fonzie. No wonder people in other countries hate us. They’re jealous of our prowess with women and our ability to start juke-boxes with a single punch.

I was at an American themed restaurant in Italy once also and, while they weren’t dressed as Fonzie, they did create the appropriate mood by hanging Norman Rockwell paintings on the wall . . . and blaring Led Zeppelin. I can’t complain about the food, though. I had a ‘hot-dog’ - which was a sublimely spiced sausage on an Italian roll with sliced mozzarella, tomatoes and arugula.

Can you imagine the shock and despair an unfortunate Italian tourist must feel when he stops at his first hot-dog cart in Manhattan and says: “Am I to understand that the limp gray . . . thing you just pulled out of that fetid water will not be served with arugula?”

But I’m afraid I may be drifting off the main topic. What were we talking about? Oh, right, Germany.

My wife and son (Linda and Ryan) recently returned from a trip to Germany. Ryan, it seems, is quite fluent in German. He often speaks German around the house, but we always just assumed he was making up words in an effort to annoy us and find words that allowed him to spray spittle in our faces.

. . . but it turned out he was quite good, and he had many conversations with native speakers . . . including a point at which Linda and he were waiting in line at the airport and he was jabbering in German behind Linda’s back – to the great amusement of the Germans in the vicinity. We still don’t know what, exactly, he was saying, but I suspect it was something along the lines of: “By the time these stupid Americans find out we were really the ones behind: ‘Keeping up with the Kardashians’ it will be too late."

Anyway, by the time I got to the reference to Tycho Brahe in the Wikipedia pretzel article (seriously, check it for yourself: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pretzel) . . . I knew that author had the same problem I did . . . THERE'S JUST NOT THAT MUCH TO SAY ABOUT %$#@^%$ PRETZELS.

Tycho Brahe, now THERE’S a blog topic! Why couldn't you have suggested that, Connie? There's a guy who advanced our knowledge of the universe, but what do we remember about him? That’s right, he was the guy who died because he refused to pee even though he really had to go. Who hasn’t used that one on their kids at one time or another? “Come on, why don’t you try to pee before we get in the car. You don’t want to end up like Tycho Brahe, do you?”

Do you know who else accomplished great things but is only known for one stupid, embarrassing thing? William Howard Taft.

Did you know that Taft was the ONLY person to ever be President AND Chief Justice of the Supreme Court? How amazing is that? What an accomplishment. Wow.

But what do we remember about him? That’s right, he was the big, fat guy who had to have a special, over-sized bath-tub built in the white house.

Isn’t that sad?

I happen to be a fan of a nicely presented Ho-Ho myself. Does that mean I'm doomed to be known as 'the fat guy'? Does that mean that no matter how many literary accolades I accrue (What? They have a Pullitzer for fart-jokes, don't they?), people will remember me as: 'You know, that portly fellow who always had crusty, dried wing sauce in his beard.'?

Hmmmm, you know what? I may stand corrected. Pretzels may be more interesting than I originally thought . . . when you really study and get to know them the way I have.


http://landofnodtrilogy.com/
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May 15, 2011

My friends keep telling me: “You have GOT to get twitter”. I assume the reason they keep telling me this is they are basically whores who would stoop to just about any level to get one more ‘follower’. . . but occasionally my ego allows me to believe it’s because I sometimes post insightful, thought provoking Facebook status (yes, that’s the proper plural, not stati or statuses . . . I looked it up).

So with that in mind, I’ll let you be the judge (and keep in mind, this is an important investigation . . . not just a way to get some mileage out of old crap rather than coming up with something fresh). Here are some of the status I’ve posted on facebook:

I wonder if Disney would do one of their customizable shirts with "Tits McGee" if I sent it in. . . . and if so, would Linda wear it.

I finally tried that burger place everyone's been talking about. Now . . . like Madonna . . . I can also say I had Five Guys tonight.

I got a letter saying: "Your daughter is eligible to apply for an overseas educational experience." I'm tempted to send a note saying: "Wow! How did you know I had a daughter? My wife doesn't even know about her."

My MP3 decided to shuffle a number of Johnny Cash and Tom Waits songs this morning and now I'm resisting the urge to throw a couple cans of beans and some moldy bread crusts in a battered satchel and hop a box-car to Wichita.

I tried to order a small soup at Chik-Fil-A today and was told: "We don't have 'small', we only have medium and large." Doesn't 'medium' imply the existence of a 'small'? Am I crazy or is Chik-Fil-A crazy (in addition to being terrible spellers)?

Does anyone else - when they're checking their heart-rate on the treadmill or passing one of those radar signs that show your speed - think: "I can beat my high score this time."?

God just told me that if at least 10 people don't like this status he will 'call me home'.

Ryan was here with a bunch of friends but they took off to somewhere. One of Ryan's friends left his guitar and Linda wants me to be doing a "Naked Cowboy" imitation with it when they get back.

So does anyone else around here leave the room for a minute to grab a soda and come back to find gay porn on their computer and their wife cackling like a witch who is roasting children?

Raise your hand if you've ever called someone who was in the same room as you . . . just to hear what kind of ring-tone they had for you . . . bonus points if it turned out to be Cartman.

I'm wondering if maybe, just maybe, one of my Facebook friends knows why I just received a copy of "Essence" clearly addressed to me.

Why does my car smell like old, stale farts when I'm the only one in there 95% of the time . . . oh . . . wait . . . never mind, I think I may have figured it out. Damn you gassy foods! Why must you taste so delicious?

Linda, if you're wondering where one of your apples went, I needed something to throw at the heron that was in our back-yard. . . . I missed him . . . damn it

(This one posted from Disney World) I find it interesting that the Disney World headgear (with Mickey Mouse-head balls on springs that make it look like you have Disney themed antennae) have mirrors built into the display stands . . . As if someone might put a set on their head, look in the mirror and think: "Yeah, this is a good look for me."

To the petite young woman in the check-out line behind me at Target this morning: You may have fooled most of the people around us, but you can't fool me. I know that smell didn't come out of me. Good strategy though - getting up behind the fat guy before letting it go. Well played, missy, well played.

Thank God for the Shake-Weight . . . seriously . . . I'm watching the CNN coverage of Japan this morning and getting really depressed . . . then along comes a Shake-Weight commercial and illustrates - in such clear terms - that: 'life goes on'.

Some day I hope to have the chance to shake the hand of brilliant man or woman who first thought to put a couple celery sticks with an order of wings. Now I can feel like I'm eating healthy. What did I have for lunch? Why I had celery sticks . . . with a few wings on the side.

I've got a yodeling marmot. Do you have a yodeling marmot?

YES Mr. LA Fitness Guy, I saw you look at me . . . and then look at the defibrillator hanging on the wall. Not today, buddy . . . not today.




So what do you think? Yeah, I guess my friends are just whores trying to rack up more followers.




http://www.landofnodtrilogy.com/
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Published on May 15, 2011 09:56 • 461 views • Tags: adventure, author, facebook, fantasy, science-fiction, smashwords, twitter, writing

April 22, 2011

Does an author need to look like an author? I don’t have a tweed sports-coat. None of the sports-coats that I do have feature leather elbow patches. I don’t have a bookshelf with neatly arranged leather-bound first-editions. If a photographer asked me to rest my chin in my hand and gaze contemplatively and just slightly away from the camera, I don’t know if I could do it without laughing. I’ve often thought I could look more intelligent with just the right hat . . . but I hate hats.

That’s just not me.

It takes a man with a strong character to look dignified sitting in a fiber-glass flamingo – most will just look goofy. Clearly I don’t have a strong character. But here’s the thing: How many people enjoy looking at photos of dignified people? I just performed a highly scientific experiment. I googled images for “man with pants falling down” and got over 36 million results. A similar search for “Hemingway looking dignified” returned 21,00 results.

The simple fact is people would rather see goofy than dignified, and I think that actually touches on a real point. I think too many authors spend too much time trying to make themselves look smart or special when they should be trying to entertain their readers.

Oooops. That was almost a serious point. I’ll try not to put too many of those in this blog.

Does an author’s blog need to look like an author’s blog? That’s the problem I’ve been wrestling with. Everybody keeps telling me I need a blog, but I’ve never been comfortable with the idea. My thoughts aren’t golden nuggets.

My thoughts usually tend toward the juvenile end of the spectrum.

When my wife and I were conferring with my son’s 5th grade teacher, she commented: “I really enjoy having Ryan in my class. His sense of humor is not that of a typical 5th grader.”
“That’s funny,” my wife replied. “Because his father’s sense of humor is exactly that of a typical 5th grader.”

Am I not cut out to be an author . . . or do I just need to suck it up and play the role? Is that what everybody else does? I remember, when eReaders first started to come out, one of my first thoughts was: “Hmmmm, so I can read the crap that I’d never be caught dead reading in public . . . and no one will be the wiser.” Are back issues of Mad Magazine available for Kindle yet?

So now I’ve got a blog . . . I’ve avoided it as long as I can. Even I’m not interested in reading about what I think. Why in the heck would anyone else? Would a string of references to slang terms for farts make a good blog? Let’s see:

Butt Trumpet

Trouser Cough

SBD

Sphincter Whistle

A Kiss for the Kaiser (my grandfather’s favorite)

Cut the Cheese

Flame Thrower

Toot

Baking Brownies

Kill the Canary

Air Biscuit

Why do I feel like Bugs Bunny about to get yanked off stage with one of those comically oversized hooks? You know, the kind that yank him away and just leave his hat hanging there in mid-air? Good thing I don’t wear hats.
Land of Nod, The Artifact
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Published on April 22, 2011 03:56 • 605 views • Tags: adventure, fantasy, fantasy-island-book-publishing, science-fiction