Mark R. Hunter's Blog, page 105
December 20, 2013
Christmas Around The World: They Think We're Odd
SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK
Ojenyunyat Sungwiyadeson honungradon nagwutut. Ojenyunyat osrasay!
No, I didn’t position my fingers wrong on the keyboard. It doesn’t quite have the flow of “Merry Christmas”, but I’m told that’s the way the Iroquois say it. Turns out most Native American tribes don’t have a term for “Happy Thanksgiving”.
Just as they have different ways of saying it, people around the world have different ways of celebrating the holiday season. Just to give you an idea, I looked up some of the ways Christmas is celebrated around the world.
For instance, South Africans often have an open-air lunch for Christmas. It’s summer down there, after all.
Try an open-air meal here in the Midwest for Christmas and you’ll spend the rest of the holidays getting thawed out.
And yet South Africans don’t hang bikinis from their nonexistent fireplaces; just like up here, children hang stockings, probably from the air conditioner.
In Ghana, Christmas season coincides with the cocoa harvest, so for them it’s a time of profit while they also make the rest of the world very happy.
Like here they have a big meal, with includes such items as okra soup and a yam paste, called fufu. Fruitcake doesn’t sound so silly now, does it?
On the subject of food, Alaskan holiday treats involve maple-frosted doughnuts and – yum! – piruk, also known as fish pie. After eating the pie some adventurous young Alaskans indulge in the dangerous sport of breathing on polar bears.
In Australia, Santa often arrives on a surfboard or a boat. I mean along the coast, of course. Australians have a Christmas Bush, a native plant with little red flowered leaves, which knowing that place is probably poisonous. They have a Christmas pudding with a treat baked into it, and if you find it you get good luck. Back during the gold rushes Down Under, those treats often consisted of gold nuggets. Break your teeth on those and … you don’t mind.
In Austria, the beginning of Christmas is marked by the feast of St. Nicholas. Nick would go around asking children for a list of their good and bad deeds … while accompanied by the devil. I can’t help thinking the kids took that pretty seriously.
Not to be outdone, Belgium has two Santa Claus ... Claus’s … Clauses … Santas. One is St. Niklaas, the other Pere Noel. They often get into WWF style cage fights to determine which gets to drive the sleigh.
No, actually Pere Noel goes to those who speak the Walloon language, which is kind of like the Balloon language only not so inflated. He goes first on December 4th, on what amounts to a welfare visit, then returns on December 6th to bring presents to good kids, and twigs to bad one. What happens to bad kids who want twigs, I don’t know.
St. Niklaas goes to the part of the country called “Flemish”, where they speak Dutch instead of French. It’s kind of like the difference between speakers in Massachusetts and South Carolina, in that they live in the same country but can’t understand each other. But St. Nicholas isn’t there to celebrate Jesus’ birth – he delivers presents on December 6th, his own birthday. I guess Christmas itself must be pretty anticlimactic.
On the other side of that, in Egypt and Ethiopia Christmas is celebrated on January 7th. I’d imagine they’re pretty darned sick of Christmas songs by then.
In Brazil, they believe Papai Noel comes from Greenland, which as we all know is white. But when he comes down to South America he wears silk clothing – remember, summer down there. The surfer shorts and Hawaiian shirts are a bit jarring, and more than once he’s come close to getting his sandal-clad feet smashed by reindeer hooves.
Bulgarians make Christmas wishes around the fire while eating blood sausage. You heard that right.
Canadian celebrations are more or less similar to those in the US, except Canadians traditionally sit around practicing their politeness and comparing frostbite scars.
However, in Nova Scotia there are wandering hoards of masked mummers (also a movie starring Brendon Fraser), who go around making noise and daring people to guess who they are. On the other side of the continent, Eskimos (who are no longer called that) have a big winter festival called Sinck tuck, in which they dance around a fire made of sleighs, Santa outfits, and pretty much anything else that will burn.
In Costa Rica, models of the stable where Jesus was born are so big they fill an entire room. They would then have room for the animals, which I’m sure would make it more realistic but also a nightmare for the cleanup crew.
The Czech Republic is where the good King Wenceslas, famed in song and story (well, one song), comes from. His Christian beliefs and overall goodness infuriated his mother, who apparently thought he wasn’t bloodthirsty enough (maybe she should have fed him blood sausages?) so her other son murdered him on the church steps. You won’t find this in modern day Christmas TV specials.
On Christmas Eve in Denmark, parents secretly decorate the tree with homemade wood and straw baubles, which you can now order with free delivery from Amazon.com.
For Christmas in England, it traditionally rains.
In France kids leave their wooden shoes, called sabots, in the hearth to be filled. Sometimes they’re left too close to the flames and catch fire. This leaves Pere Noel scorched and believing it was done on purpose, an act that to this day is called sabotage.
And finally, Christmas in the Bethlehem is … kind of traditional.
However you celebrate Christmas, make it a fun one and, as they say in the Philippines: Maligayang Pasko at Manigong Bagong Taon!
I’ll bet their holiday banners are bigger than ours.
Ojenyunyat Sungwiyadeson honungradon nagwutut. Ojenyunyat osrasay!
No, I didn’t position my fingers wrong on the keyboard. It doesn’t quite have the flow of “Merry Christmas”, but I’m told that’s the way the Iroquois say it. Turns out most Native American tribes don’t have a term for “Happy Thanksgiving”.
Just as they have different ways of saying it, people around the world have different ways of celebrating the holiday season. Just to give you an idea, I looked up some of the ways Christmas is celebrated around the world.
For instance, South Africans often have an open-air lunch for Christmas. It’s summer down there, after all.
Try an open-air meal here in the Midwest for Christmas and you’ll spend the rest of the holidays getting thawed out.
And yet South Africans don’t hang bikinis from their nonexistent fireplaces; just like up here, children hang stockings, probably from the air conditioner.
In Ghana, Christmas season coincides with the cocoa harvest, so for them it’s a time of profit while they also make the rest of the world very happy.
Like here they have a big meal, with includes such items as okra soup and a yam paste, called fufu. Fruitcake doesn’t sound so silly now, does it?
On the subject of food, Alaskan holiday treats involve maple-frosted doughnuts and – yum! – piruk, also known as fish pie. After eating the pie some adventurous young Alaskans indulge in the dangerous sport of breathing on polar bears.
In Australia, Santa often arrives on a surfboard or a boat. I mean along the coast, of course. Australians have a Christmas Bush, a native plant with little red flowered leaves, which knowing that place is probably poisonous. They have a Christmas pudding with a treat baked into it, and if you find it you get good luck. Back during the gold rushes Down Under, those treats often consisted of gold nuggets. Break your teeth on those and … you don’t mind.
In Austria, the beginning of Christmas is marked by the feast of St. Nicholas. Nick would go around asking children for a list of their good and bad deeds … while accompanied by the devil. I can’t help thinking the kids took that pretty seriously.
Not to be outdone, Belgium has two Santa Claus ... Claus’s … Clauses … Santas. One is St. Niklaas, the other Pere Noel. They often get into WWF style cage fights to determine which gets to drive the sleigh.
No, actually Pere Noel goes to those who speak the Walloon language, which is kind of like the Balloon language only not so inflated. He goes first on December 4th, on what amounts to a welfare visit, then returns on December 6th to bring presents to good kids, and twigs to bad one. What happens to bad kids who want twigs, I don’t know.
St. Niklaas goes to the part of the country called “Flemish”, where they speak Dutch instead of French. It’s kind of like the difference between speakers in Massachusetts and South Carolina, in that they live in the same country but can’t understand each other. But St. Nicholas isn’t there to celebrate Jesus’ birth – he delivers presents on December 6th, his own birthday. I guess Christmas itself must be pretty anticlimactic.
On the other side of that, in Egypt and Ethiopia Christmas is celebrated on January 7th. I’d imagine they’re pretty darned sick of Christmas songs by then.
In Brazil, they believe Papai Noel comes from Greenland, which as we all know is white. But when he comes down to South America he wears silk clothing – remember, summer down there. The surfer shorts and Hawaiian shirts are a bit jarring, and more than once he’s come close to getting his sandal-clad feet smashed by reindeer hooves.
Bulgarians make Christmas wishes around the fire while eating blood sausage. You heard that right.
Canadian celebrations are more or less similar to those in the US, except Canadians traditionally sit around practicing their politeness and comparing frostbite scars.
However, in Nova Scotia there are wandering hoards of masked mummers (also a movie starring Brendon Fraser), who go around making noise and daring people to guess who they are. On the other side of the continent, Eskimos (who are no longer called that) have a big winter festival called Sinck tuck, in which they dance around a fire made of sleighs, Santa outfits, and pretty much anything else that will burn.
In Costa Rica, models of the stable where Jesus was born are so big they fill an entire room. They would then have room for the animals, which I’m sure would make it more realistic but also a nightmare for the cleanup crew.
The Czech Republic is where the good King Wenceslas, famed in song and story (well, one song), comes from. His Christian beliefs and overall goodness infuriated his mother, who apparently thought he wasn’t bloodthirsty enough (maybe she should have fed him blood sausages?) so her other son murdered him on the church steps. You won’t find this in modern day Christmas TV specials.
On Christmas Eve in Denmark, parents secretly decorate the tree with homemade wood and straw baubles, which you can now order with free delivery from Amazon.com.
For Christmas in England, it traditionally rains.
In France kids leave their wooden shoes, called sabots, in the hearth to be filled. Sometimes they’re left too close to the flames and catch fire. This leaves Pere Noel scorched and believing it was done on purpose, an act that to this day is called sabotage.
And finally, Christmas in the Bethlehem is … kind of traditional.
However you celebrate Christmas, make it a fun one and, as they say in the Philippines: Maligayang Pasko at Manigong Bagong Taon!
I’ll bet their holiday banners are bigger than ours.
December 19, 2013
short story in Christmas insert
For those of you who might be around northeast Indiana, I should have a short story in the Christmas insert for this week's Albion New Era, Churubusco News, and Northwest News. The story features characters from three of my works: Storm Chaser, Storm Chaser Shorts, and The Notorious Ian Grant, although it's not directly connected.
In "Another Family", Indiana State Trooper Chance Hamlin and Police Detective Fran Vargas are headed home for the holidays when they encounter a snowstorm ... and inside it, something -- or someone -- much more unexpected.
Don't worry, I will be posting this story at all my usual places -- during Christmas, 2014! After all, it's the newspaper that pays me, so I like to send business their way.
In "Another Family", Indiana State Trooper Chance Hamlin and Police Detective Fran Vargas are headed home for the holidays when they encounter a snowstorm ... and inside it, something -- or someone -- much more unexpected.
Don't worry, I will be posting this story at all my usual places -- during Christmas, 2014! After all, it's the newspaper that pays me, so I like to send business their way.
December 17, 2013
One More Class For The Road
We drove down to IPFW tonight for Emily’s last classroom session (she still has a final test coming up). The roads were so-so, and will probably be worse on the way home; I think my annual prediction of a very bad winter is going to come true, this year.
I’m going to miss this place … of course, I didn’t have tests. I’m taking advantage of her classroom time to do some final polishing of Radio Red before it goes out to – somebody.
I’m going to miss this place … of course, I didn’t have tests. I’m taking advantage of her classroom time to do some final polishing of Radio Red before it goes out to – somebody.
December 14, 2013
Good people. They're out there.
I have Lateral Epicondylitis! The doctors say I might not make it, and that I should start making out my will and testament, maybe sooner rather than later. If only I hadn't eaten that strange green stuff during my trip to Mexico ...
Oh, who am I kidding? It's still just tendonitis. It's flared up and won't go away for some reason, but it's not serious, just painful. They gave me a shot of something -- and not in my arm, if you catch my drift -- and told me to take ibuprofen, put greasy stuff and heat on it (the elbow, not the ibuprofen), and don't do any heavy lifting or work. Apparently keyboarding isn't a problem, so I maintain my wild and crazy lifestyle.
But considering the time of year, I was a little curious about how I was going to shovel snow on my sidewalk and driveway. By curious, I mean worried. It was suggested I buy ice-melt chemicals by the ton, but that seemed like cheating ... besides, the doc told me to cut down on salt.
I figured I could do it by mostly just using my left arm, which is of course a recipe for disaster, and after it stopped snowing last night I grabbed the lighter of my two snow shovels and headed out. There I discovered someone with a snowblower had made a path along the length of the sidewalk in front of my house, and up my front walk all the way to the steps.
Then I went around to the driveway, which I saw had been completely plowed except for the concrete pad where the car was parked.
For the first I suspect one neighbor, as I spotted a snowblower on his front porch. For the second I suspect my other neighbor (who I share the driveway with), because there was a skidloader parked behind his house. My part of the task ended up being considerably less than I expected, which is good because my arm will never heal if I keep heading out to do dumb things.
Nice people. They're out there.
Oh, who am I kidding? It's still just tendonitis. It's flared up and won't go away for some reason, but it's not serious, just painful. They gave me a shot of something -- and not in my arm, if you catch my drift -- and told me to take ibuprofen, put greasy stuff and heat on it (the elbow, not the ibuprofen), and don't do any heavy lifting or work. Apparently keyboarding isn't a problem, so I maintain my wild and crazy lifestyle.
But considering the time of year, I was a little curious about how I was going to shovel snow on my sidewalk and driveway. By curious, I mean worried. It was suggested I buy ice-melt chemicals by the ton, but that seemed like cheating ... besides, the doc told me to cut down on salt.
I figured I could do it by mostly just using my left arm, which is of course a recipe for disaster, and after it stopped snowing last night I grabbed the lighter of my two snow shovels and headed out. There I discovered someone with a snowblower had made a path along the length of the sidewalk in front of my house, and up my front walk all the way to the steps.
Then I went around to the driveway, which I saw had been completely plowed except for the concrete pad where the car was parked.
For the first I suspect one neighbor, as I spotted a snowblower on his front porch. For the second I suspect my other neighbor (who I share the driveway with), because there was a skidloader parked behind his house. My part of the task ended up being considerably less than I expected, which is good because my arm will never heal if I keep heading out to do dumb things.
Nice people. They're out there.
December 12, 2013
Twerking Away Your Selfie Respect
SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK
Would you like a selfie? How about a twerk?
Your confusion could be understandable, especially if you’re not on the internet much. (Are there many people besides my grandmother who aren’t on the internet?) The good news is that if you don’t know these terms … you’re probably better off.
So what are they? Do you order two more selfies for the road? Is a twerk a pair of high school nerds? Is either one something you’d better do with the curtains closed and the door locked? Can you have a selfie twerk?
(Turns out you can.)
Most important, why are we even having this conversation?
The answer to that last is easy: The Oxford Dictionary has legitimized selfie by making it the 2013 word of the year, while twerk came in a close second.
Who gives the folks at Oxford the right to decide what should be added to the English language? Well … they do, I guess.
There were other runners-up, including bedroom tax. This has to do with a change in the British welfare system that penalizes people who the government decides have too much room. Apparently some people listed such things as blisters and acne to explain why they were unable to work (and needed taxpayer money) so they overhauled the system.
I say, it depends on where the blister is.
Another “word” that’s actually two is binge-watch, the process of watching multiple TV episodes of the same show in a short time. I’ve been guilty of this starting as far back as Buffy the Vampire Slayer … luckily for my health, my wife likes all the same shows I do but doesn’t like to watch too much TV at a time. Other people are apparently moving entertainment centers into their bathrooms.
Then there’s Schmeat, also known as synthetic meat, which apparently is made out of petroleum oil, or something worse.
Another is bitcoin, a digital currency, which in reality doesn’t have any value but is treated as if it does. Kind of like the American dollar.
Then there’s olinguito, a South American mammal used to make schmeat and bitcoins, which in the wild has been known to twerk.
Certainly twerk is the best known of the runners-up, thanks to a former child performer-turned sleazy sexpothead (that’s a word I just coined) named Miley Cyrus. (Sexpothead … I like it.) Miley – I feel she’s on a first name basis with everyone – did what appeared to be a deep squat exercise while attempting to lick the face of a fan in row eight.
Some people are calling that a dance.
Nobody knows for sure where the word came from, but its technical description is shaking the hips in an up and down bouncing motion, causing the dancer’s … um … bottom to shake, wobble and bounce. Some people find this arousing, apparently. I missed Miley’s performance, but for this column I watched a video of it.
My reaction: I alternated between giggling and dry heaves. Ginger Rogers danced; Miley Cyrus has uncontrollable convulsions.
Let’s move on to the winner, selfie. It may be a little silly, but unlike twerk it doesn’t make me feel like I need to shower.
Selfie is a term that simply means taking a photograph of yourself. That’s it, although it usually also means that photo ending up on the internet. Rule number one of posting photos on the internet: Don’t do it while drunk.
According to Yahoo News, the very authority on something, the first known use of the term came from an Australian online forum post in 2002:
"Um, drunk at a mates 21st, I tripped ofer and landed lip first (with front teeth coming a very close second) on a set of steps. I had a hole about 1cm long right through my bottom lip. And sorry about the focus, it was a selfie."
Pretty much says it all, doesn’t it? I’m happy to say a photo did not accompany that quote.
Apparently Australians have a thing for changing words to end with ie … i.e., “Put a shrimp on the barbie, but don’t drink too many tinnies of beer or the firies might have to come put out the flames.” Kinda scarie.
In 2012 the word exploded, and since then we’ve been bombarded with photos people take of themselves, or themselves with their friends, their pets, their cars, celebrities, or twerkers. There’s been a 17,000 percent increase in the usage of that word, which is what caught Oxford’s attention.
Selfies can be silly, but I don’t criticize the photo takers much (as long as they’re not twerking at the time). Why? Because I take selfies myself. I can count on one hand the number of photos of myself I like – ever – and yet I’m constantly taking photos of me, my wife, the dog, or all at once, often accompanied by a huge thing along the side that can only be my arm. It’s fun, and I no longer have to pay for film. Narcissistic, you say?
Yeah, but at least I’m not twerking.
I tried once.
I got over it thanks to ibuprofen, my chiropractor, and a deep sense of shame.
Would you like a selfie? How about a twerk?
Your confusion could be understandable, especially if you’re not on the internet much. (Are there many people besides my grandmother who aren’t on the internet?) The good news is that if you don’t know these terms … you’re probably better off.
So what are they? Do you order two more selfies for the road? Is a twerk a pair of high school nerds? Is either one something you’d better do with the curtains closed and the door locked? Can you have a selfie twerk?
(Turns out you can.)
Most important, why are we even having this conversation?
The answer to that last is easy: The Oxford Dictionary has legitimized selfie by making it the 2013 word of the year, while twerk came in a close second.
Who gives the folks at Oxford the right to decide what should be added to the English language? Well … they do, I guess.
There were other runners-up, including bedroom tax. This has to do with a change in the British welfare system that penalizes people who the government decides have too much room. Apparently some people listed such things as blisters and acne to explain why they were unable to work (and needed taxpayer money) so they overhauled the system.
I say, it depends on where the blister is.
Another “word” that’s actually two is binge-watch, the process of watching multiple TV episodes of the same show in a short time. I’ve been guilty of this starting as far back as Buffy the Vampire Slayer … luckily for my health, my wife likes all the same shows I do but doesn’t like to watch too much TV at a time. Other people are apparently moving entertainment centers into their bathrooms.
Then there’s Schmeat, also known as synthetic meat, which apparently is made out of petroleum oil, or something worse.
Another is bitcoin, a digital currency, which in reality doesn’t have any value but is treated as if it does. Kind of like the American dollar.
Then there’s olinguito, a South American mammal used to make schmeat and bitcoins, which in the wild has been known to twerk.
Certainly twerk is the best known of the runners-up, thanks to a former child performer-turned sleazy sexpothead (that’s a word I just coined) named Miley Cyrus. (Sexpothead … I like it.) Miley – I feel she’s on a first name basis with everyone – did what appeared to be a deep squat exercise while attempting to lick the face of a fan in row eight.
Some people are calling that a dance.
Nobody knows for sure where the word came from, but its technical description is shaking the hips in an up and down bouncing motion, causing the dancer’s … um … bottom to shake, wobble and bounce. Some people find this arousing, apparently. I missed Miley’s performance, but for this column I watched a video of it.
My reaction: I alternated between giggling and dry heaves. Ginger Rogers danced; Miley Cyrus has uncontrollable convulsions.
Let’s move on to the winner, selfie. It may be a little silly, but unlike twerk it doesn’t make me feel like I need to shower.
Selfie is a term that simply means taking a photograph of yourself. That’s it, although it usually also means that photo ending up on the internet. Rule number one of posting photos on the internet: Don’t do it while drunk.
According to Yahoo News, the very authority on something, the first known use of the term came from an Australian online forum post in 2002:
"Um, drunk at a mates 21st, I tripped ofer and landed lip first (with front teeth coming a very close second) on a set of steps. I had a hole about 1cm long right through my bottom lip. And sorry about the focus, it was a selfie."
Pretty much says it all, doesn’t it? I’m happy to say a photo did not accompany that quote.
Apparently Australians have a thing for changing words to end with ie … i.e., “Put a shrimp on the barbie, but don’t drink too many tinnies of beer or the firies might have to come put out the flames.” Kinda scarie.
In 2012 the word exploded, and since then we’ve been bombarded with photos people take of themselves, or themselves with their friends, their pets, their cars, celebrities, or twerkers. There’s been a 17,000 percent increase in the usage of that word, which is what caught Oxford’s attention.
Selfies can be silly, but I don’t criticize the photo takers much (as long as they’re not twerking at the time). Why? Because I take selfies myself. I can count on one hand the number of photos of myself I like – ever – and yet I’m constantly taking photos of me, my wife, the dog, or all at once, often accompanied by a huge thing along the side that can only be my arm. It’s fun, and I no longer have to pay for film. Narcissistic, you say?
Yeah, but at least I’m not twerking.
I tried once.
I got over it thanks to ibuprofen, my chiropractor, and a deep sense of shame.
December 10, 2013
A Storm Chaser Shorts snippet: "Bar Fight"
Here’s a snippet from the opening of Bar Fight, the third story in my collection, Storm Chaser Shorts. The story’s being told by State Trooper Chance Hamlin, about one of the main characters in my upcoming novel, The Notorious Ian Grant:
Bar Fight
“I can remember the first moment I knew Fran Vargas would someday make detective. I’d answered a report of a disturbance at a bar, one of those downtown holes in the wall with a door, a plate glass window, and a tiny parking lot in the back. A few minutes earlier some guy showed up at the police station downtown, his face a bloody pulp, to claim he’d gotten jumped for no reason as he left the bar.
“There’s always a reason.”
http://www.markrhunter.com/books.html
Bar Fight
“I can remember the first moment I knew Fran Vargas would someday make detective. I’d answered a report of a disturbance at a bar, one of those downtown holes in the wall with a door, a plate glass window, and a tiny parking lot in the back. A few minutes earlier some guy showed up at the police station downtown, his face a bloody pulp, to claim he’d gotten jumped for no reason as he left the bar.
“There’s always a reason.”
http://www.markrhunter.com/books.html
December 4, 2013
Bad Is Funny
SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK
Okay, which of these is funny? The first:
While picking up a pharmacy prescription I noticed soda on sale, and caffeine is my favorite over the counter drug. An employee pointed out that if I used the store’s card at a scanning station, it would give me a coupon to make the pop even cheaper. It was a little thing, but she didn’t have to trouble herself with saving me some money; I’d have never known.
Or the second:
New York City mayoral candidate Anthony Weiner was involved in a minor car crash in Manhattan. Police say he managed to drive straight while texting, but lost control of his vehicle during pants removal.
The answer to which is funny seems clear, unless you’re a fan of Weiner, who at the time had a 9.7% approval rating. If almost ten percent of the people in New York still thought he had the good judgment to be their mayor, maybe they deserved him.
On the other hand, could he be worse than Bloomberg, who recently unleashed an initiative to ban sweet tea from the city? “Sugar is very bad for you,” he said. “No, no. Bad. Also, tea can discolor your teeth, so the NYPD will do inspections to make sure everyone brushes at bedtime.”
From time to time I talk about how we mine humor from real life. It’s all subjective, and I’m sure some people don’t think anything I write is humorous. (I’d just as soon not hear from you people. Besides, why the heck are you reading this, anyway?)
If there’s one thing my father’s illness taught me, it’s that there are some things you can’t make funny. But there is a pattern that I think is universal: Bad things are easier to make fun of than good things.
I should point out the very close relationship between “bad” and “stupid”.
That pharmacy employee did me a solid for no reason other than to be nice. You don’t hear about stuff like that, because good stuff’s not news and not funny.
Michael Bloomberg, who said on a radio show that the key to success is taking fewer bathroom breaks? He’s hilarious. I can go on about him for hours.
You know who’s even more hilarious? Anthony Weiner, who for a time was the most visible politician around thanks to the fact that he never met a cell phone camera he didn’t like. I could write twenty columns about him, but unfortunately every comic in the free world has already mined his – ahem – shortcomings for jokes that are cheap and easy, just like him.
I wonder why Bloomberg never tried to ban Weiner? Eye pollution!
You know what’s not funny? Earlier this year my wife and I found a table on clearance for 1/3 the normal price. We’d been looking for something to replace our dilapidated old table, which was built during the Nixon administration using pulp from shredded Presidential documents.
This one was perfect: Looked good, right size, and almost within our price range if I sold more plasma. (Assembly required, though … that’s another column.) So we borrowed my step-father’s SUV (on a related note, he could have said no), and set out for Fort Wayne, a 45 minute trip.
Unfortunately, when the salesperson (Cathy) contacted the storeroom, she discovered they were sold out. Cathy gave us a rain check, but we’d borrowed a bigger vehicle just to carry the thing, and it was going to be an incredible pain to borrow it again and get over there after the new stock arrived, but before the sale ended.
We hadn’t even made it back to the car when the phone rang. Cathy, for no reason other than to be thorough, checked the stockroom herself, and found the misplaced tables. She could have put it out of her mind until we came back the next week, but instead she grabbed a phone and called us before we could leave.
What kind of world would it be if that kind of story led on the evening news, instead of a starlet’s latest trip to rehab or a politician’s attempt to gain power and screw with people? Maybe we’d all walk around a lot happier. (By the way, my wife called the store to let them know exactly how we felt – something else that usually only happens when it’s bad.)
You won’t hear me tell that story, because it’s not funny. Well, you just did hear me tell that story, but only to make the point that it’s not funny. That argument’s so circular, it should be the subject of a government funded scientific study.
What you will hear me make fun of is Congress. Now, the US Congress really is not funny, in that they’ve joined many others in Washington, D.C., to do the maximum possible damage to America and its people. But you see, that’s exactly my point: Bad things are easier to make fun of.
How bad? At this point, Congressional approval ratings are at minus 7%. That’s right, it’s actually reached the minus category, because Congress is doing such a dismal job that disgruntled voters are coming back from the dead to answer the polls.
Luckily for our Senators and Representatives, most voters still think their Congressmen are doing just fine – it’s all the rest who are awful. You can bet those voters who came back from the dead in Chicago will vote for the incumbent.
And that’s just bad. But I’ll make it funny.
Okay, which of these is funny? The first:
While picking up a pharmacy prescription I noticed soda on sale, and caffeine is my favorite over the counter drug. An employee pointed out that if I used the store’s card at a scanning station, it would give me a coupon to make the pop even cheaper. It was a little thing, but she didn’t have to trouble herself with saving me some money; I’d have never known.
Or the second:
New York City mayoral candidate Anthony Weiner was involved in a minor car crash in Manhattan. Police say he managed to drive straight while texting, but lost control of his vehicle during pants removal.
The answer to which is funny seems clear, unless you’re a fan of Weiner, who at the time had a 9.7% approval rating. If almost ten percent of the people in New York still thought he had the good judgment to be their mayor, maybe they deserved him.
On the other hand, could he be worse than Bloomberg, who recently unleashed an initiative to ban sweet tea from the city? “Sugar is very bad for you,” he said. “No, no. Bad. Also, tea can discolor your teeth, so the NYPD will do inspections to make sure everyone brushes at bedtime.”
From time to time I talk about how we mine humor from real life. It’s all subjective, and I’m sure some people don’t think anything I write is humorous. (I’d just as soon not hear from you people. Besides, why the heck are you reading this, anyway?)
If there’s one thing my father’s illness taught me, it’s that there are some things you can’t make funny. But there is a pattern that I think is universal: Bad things are easier to make fun of than good things.
I should point out the very close relationship between “bad” and “stupid”.
That pharmacy employee did me a solid for no reason other than to be nice. You don’t hear about stuff like that, because good stuff’s not news and not funny.
Michael Bloomberg, who said on a radio show that the key to success is taking fewer bathroom breaks? He’s hilarious. I can go on about him for hours.
You know who’s even more hilarious? Anthony Weiner, who for a time was the most visible politician around thanks to the fact that he never met a cell phone camera he didn’t like. I could write twenty columns about him, but unfortunately every comic in the free world has already mined his – ahem – shortcomings for jokes that are cheap and easy, just like him.
I wonder why Bloomberg never tried to ban Weiner? Eye pollution!
You know what’s not funny? Earlier this year my wife and I found a table on clearance for 1/3 the normal price. We’d been looking for something to replace our dilapidated old table, which was built during the Nixon administration using pulp from shredded Presidential documents.
This one was perfect: Looked good, right size, and almost within our price range if I sold more plasma. (Assembly required, though … that’s another column.) So we borrowed my step-father’s SUV (on a related note, he could have said no), and set out for Fort Wayne, a 45 minute trip.
Unfortunately, when the salesperson (Cathy) contacted the storeroom, she discovered they were sold out. Cathy gave us a rain check, but we’d borrowed a bigger vehicle just to carry the thing, and it was going to be an incredible pain to borrow it again and get over there after the new stock arrived, but before the sale ended.
We hadn’t even made it back to the car when the phone rang. Cathy, for no reason other than to be thorough, checked the stockroom herself, and found the misplaced tables. She could have put it out of her mind until we came back the next week, but instead she grabbed a phone and called us before we could leave.
What kind of world would it be if that kind of story led on the evening news, instead of a starlet’s latest trip to rehab or a politician’s attempt to gain power and screw with people? Maybe we’d all walk around a lot happier. (By the way, my wife called the store to let them know exactly how we felt – something else that usually only happens when it’s bad.)
You won’t hear me tell that story, because it’s not funny. Well, you just did hear me tell that story, but only to make the point that it’s not funny. That argument’s so circular, it should be the subject of a government funded scientific study.
What you will hear me make fun of is Congress. Now, the US Congress really is not funny, in that they’ve joined many others in Washington, D.C., to do the maximum possible damage to America and its people. But you see, that’s exactly my point: Bad things are easier to make fun of.
How bad? At this point, Congressional approval ratings are at minus 7%. That’s right, it’s actually reached the minus category, because Congress is doing such a dismal job that disgruntled voters are coming back from the dead to answer the polls.
Luckily for our Senators and Representatives, most voters still think their Congressmen are doing just fine – it’s all the rest who are awful. You can bet those voters who came back from the dead in Chicago will vote for the incumbent.
And that’s just bad. But I’ll make it funny.
December 3, 2013
A Storm Chaser snippet
Chapter One of Storm Chaser is available to preview on Amazon.com and the Whiskey Creek Press website. But here’s a glimpse from near the beginning of Chapter Two, where we meet the mysterious, disaster prone Luther Magee in an Indianapolis motel room:
“…A tornado from one of those isolated storm cells brought a close call to a state trooper, who narrowly escaped being caught while tracking the twister.”
The picture showed a solemn officer, blond hair mussed as if from a high wind, standing stiffly next to his patrol car. “My car approached to within about one hundred yards of the funnel…”
A face peered out from behind the officer’s broad back, for just an instant. Magee started, then leaned so close to the screen that he almost tumbled off the bed.
The scene cut to a young reporter with concern written across his face. “How long before you escaped the danger?”
The camera caught a close up of the
trooper in mid sentence. “…about ten minutes…”
The reporter’s voice droned on, but Magee concentrated on the trooper, and the girl he led away from the camera. She peeked back only once, but that was all it took.
Bingo.
http://www.markrhunter.com/books.html
“…A tornado from one of those isolated storm cells brought a close call to a state trooper, who narrowly escaped being caught while tracking the twister.”
The picture showed a solemn officer, blond hair mussed as if from a high wind, standing stiffly next to his patrol car. “My car approached to within about one hundred yards of the funnel…”
A face peered out from behind the officer’s broad back, for just an instant. Magee started, then leaned so close to the screen that he almost tumbled off the bed.
The scene cut to a young reporter with concern written across his face. “How long before you escaped the danger?”
The camera caught a close up of the
trooper in mid sentence. “…about ten minutes…”
The reporter’s voice droned on, but Magee concentrated on the trooper, and the girl he led away from the camera. She peeked back only once, but that was all it took.
Bingo.
http://www.markrhunter.com/books.html
December 2, 2013
Secret Agent, Man
Feeling that I’m not balancing enough in my life, I’ve sent a query and sample chapters of my YA humor/mystery novel, Red Is For Ick, to an agent. That makes six works I’ve got out making the rounds – three novels and three short stories – assuming one doesn’t come back by the time you read this.
Of course, only one – The Notorious Ian Grant – is actually sold. The rest are simply submissions, one after a request for edits and the other four in slush pile purgatory. Still, one thing I’ve heard often remains true in today’s publishing world: The reason most manuscripts are never published is because they’re not finished and sent out.
Of course, only one – The Notorious Ian Grant – is actually sold. The rest are simply submissions, one after a request for edits and the other four in slush pile purgatory. Still, one thing I’ve heard often remains true in today’s publishing world: The reason most manuscripts are never published is because they’re not finished and sent out.
December 1, 2013
books for Christmas, or: shameless plug
It’s time to buy Christmas presents. Feeling the pressure yet? Me, too.
You might expect me to try and talk you into buying one of my books, and who am I not to meet your expectations? Think of it this way: Storm Chaser and most of Storm Chaser Shorts are set in the middle of a summer heat wave. Readers who hate summer will say, “I’m so glad it’s winter!” Readers who love summer will say, “Thank goodness – something to take my mind off winter!” It’s win-win, and since Storm Chaser is an action-adventure-romantic comedy-mystery, and the short stories in my collection also cover a wide range, they can appeal to readers of many genres.
And if that doesn’t work, remember that you have to catch up on what’s going on before the sequel comes out next year
Of course, if you’re a history fan there’s always Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights: A Century Or So With The Albion Fire Department, which covers … well, I guess the subtitle pretty much covers what it covers.
Check all my works out on Amazon at: http://www.amazon.com/Mark-R-Hunter/e...
Or on my website at www.markrhunter.com.
Or you can get the first two works of the Storm Chaser series at my publisher’s website, http://www.whiskeycreekpress.com/stor... (it’s a series!) and at Barnes and Noble:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/mark-...
And Storm Chaser is even online at Fictionwise: http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/a67...?
Finally, print copies of Storm Chaser and Smoky Days can be found at the Albion New Era and Churubusco News offices, and the latter at the Brick Ark Inn, while Storm Chaser should also be available at Summer’s Stories in Kendallville and The Bookmark in Fort Wayne.
You might expect me to try and talk you into buying one of my books, and who am I not to meet your expectations? Think of it this way: Storm Chaser and most of Storm Chaser Shorts are set in the middle of a summer heat wave. Readers who hate summer will say, “I’m so glad it’s winter!” Readers who love summer will say, “Thank goodness – something to take my mind off winter!” It’s win-win, and since Storm Chaser is an action-adventure-romantic comedy-mystery, and the short stories in my collection also cover a wide range, they can appeal to readers of many genres.
And if that doesn’t work, remember that you have to catch up on what’s going on before the sequel comes out next year
Of course, if you’re a history fan there’s always Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights: A Century Or So With The Albion Fire Department, which covers … well, I guess the subtitle pretty much covers what it covers.
Check all my works out on Amazon at: http://www.amazon.com/Mark-R-Hunter/e...
Or on my website at www.markrhunter.com.
Or you can get the first two works of the Storm Chaser series at my publisher’s website, http://www.whiskeycreekpress.com/stor... (it’s a series!) and at Barnes and Noble:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/mark-...
And Storm Chaser is even online at Fictionwise: http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/a67...?
Finally, print copies of Storm Chaser and Smoky Days can be found at the Albion New Era and Churubusco News offices, and the latter at the Brick Ark Inn, while Storm Chaser should also be available at Summer’s Stories in Kendallville and The Bookmark in Fort Wayne.
