Keith Blenman's Blog: This Worthless Life, page 12

Indy book review: 100 Jolly Jokes for All Occasions by Frida Malone

In
trying to push my latest novelette, I couldn’t help but notice just how many
other indy writers have been struggling to do the same thing. Each and every
one of us are fighting for reviews, sales, and overall doing everything we can
think of to get our stories into readers hands. We post in forums. We tweet. We
set up Facebook and Goodreads pages. Many of us with only limited success. I
won’t lie. Some of us could use better editors. Some of us probably shouldn’t
quit our day jobs. But for every one of those writers, amongst the flooding
market of self publishing authors, there are some who are truly talented and
deserve some recognition. I don’t know if this will be a regular feature in my
blog, or just an occasional effort. I’ll have to see how things work out next
semester juggling work and school. But for today, I’m at home, quarantining
myself to bed while fighting off a bad cold. I’ve decided to pick a random book
advertised in the many forums I read and post a review for it. If possible, I’d
like to do this once a week, and only for shorter, self published books. Novelettes
and novellas. Anything cheap or free that I can finish reading within an hour
or two.  I’m sure when a few writers
notice a new site posting reviews (Amazon recently forbid indy writers from
posting reviews for each other) they’ll be enticed to send submissions. I’m
just going to go ahead and ask you to please not do that. For at least the time
being, I’ll be selecting books at random. For example, how much more random can
you get than by doing my first review of a joke book by Frida Malone. 100 Jolly Jokes For All Occasions ,
published today and available for free on Amazon. At least at the time of my
writing this review. Eventually the price will go up to a $1.49. My criteria
for picking the book was simply that it was free, there, and wouldn’t take me
long to read. I had actually been thinking fantasy, but as one of the last indy
books I finished was The Vacant Forge
by Darrin Drader, I still have a bad taste in my mouth for the genre. So, sick
in bed, who couldn’t use a couple of good laughs? Let’s find out if Frida Malone was
successful:

 




 



Content



When
I was a kid, my brothers and I had a small collection of joke books. Ours were
not quite a tasteful as Frida Malone’s. Each of our books promised to be some
of the dirtiest, raunchiest, uncensored humor you could find. And for us being
kids of the eighties, before the Internet and today’s typical cable TV show,
the jokes were pretty shocking. Some of them even involved farts and
intercourse.



I
think one of them even used the word intercourse.



So,
yes, the filthiest and deprived humor of my childhood would blush at an episode
of Family Guy or anything you can find
on Youtube. But still, we had these joke books. We felt pretty rebellious in having
them. And all the way back then, I remember a sort of prevailing question. Where
did these jokes come from? Were they of the author’s own invention? Were they
jokes he just heard and assembled together? Maybe everybody I knew had books
like these stashed away at home and secretly memorized and rehearsed them in front
of a mirror. When I sat down with Frida Malone’s 100 joke collection, that was
a question I had in mind.



In
terms of actual content, you get exactly what’s advertised. A hundred jokes. Really
101, but I’ll leave that to the editing and formatting section of the review. Malone
makes a point not to publish indecent humor, and I’m certain my review is going
to end up being raunchier than anything featured in the book itself. There wasn’t
a single joke in here I wouldn’t feel comfortable reiterating to my
grandmother. Granted, my grandmother once introduced herself to a girl I’d been
dating at knifepoint, so instead I’ll say that there isn’t a single joke in
here I wouldn’t feel comfortable reiterating to your grandmother. There was one
joke about a wife making out with a few guys to help pay the bills, but that’s
as far as it got sexually. By contrast in terms of violence, the very first
joke, one you can definitely read for free if you sample the book goes as
follows:



During a bank robbery, the robber kept several people hostage.
He asked the first one, “Did you see me rob the bank?”



“Yes,” the man answered.



The robber pulled his gun and shot him in the
head. He then went to a couple and asked the man, “Did you see me rob the bank?”



“No, but my mother-in-law saw it all.”
 




That
is the pinnacle of violence in the book and everything else is roughly as tame.
Overall, most the jokes are similar in format, and most as mildly amusing. There
were a couple of duds. A few I’d heard variations of before. One joke I’m
pretty sure was a line ripped straight from Kung
Fu Panda and felt completely out of place given the rest of the humor. “Today
is a gift. That’s why they call it the present.” That’s not even a punchline,
really. Just whimsical. And although I’m sure the saying goes back much further
than the movie, I felt suspicious the author just found this version online and
retold it here. Which brings me back to the question of whether these jokes are
original pieces or found from previous sources. Although I didn’t know a lot of
the jokes, there were a few that I recalled at least some variation of. Maybe
the punchline was different (tamed down in two cases). Sometimes the set up was
new with a punchline I’d heard. To double check on this, I type the openings of
several random jokes in Google, and every times I was able to stumble onto
websites or forums with at least highly similar jokes. So it seems unlikely you
discover anything completely original here. Either these were all jokes Malone
had heard before and rewrote them all to fit a certain format, or it’s a simple
cut and paste job. But who knows? Maybe these are jokes Malone has been telling
for years and just recently decided to put them together in one collection.



Yeah,
that’s felt pretty unlikely to me too.



Given
that I was able to download the book for free, I didn’t mind this. If asked to
pay money, I’d hope the humor was entirely original. But this is the first joke
book I’ve looked at since I was a little kid. Maybe that’s the standard
practice. There’s nothing here to really make it stand out over the books I
read as a kid, but it’s still a hundred jokes. Overall, given what the material
is, there were plenty of light chuckles to be had. I can’t be sure if Malone handpicked
these as the best 100 puns of the Internet or whatever, but I laughed a few
times and at least smiled at others. If you’re in the mood for jokes and you
can get the book for free or don’t want to wade through a million websites to
find some mostly family friendly humor, this is a quick, light read. You’ll
find something witty to say the next time you’re invited to an office party.



 



Editing and
Formatting



I
only noticed one major error in the book. Joke 40 has two jokes stuck together
with no space between them. So I guess technically you’re getting 101 jokes,
but it took me a second to realize I’d just read the punchline of one and was well
into another. It kind of surprises me the author didn’t notice this given the
finite amount of material, and it lends weight to the idea that this may just
be a cut and paste job.



Apart
from that, the jokes are listed 1-100 with no index or categorical arrangement.
The spacing and formatting was just fine. Given that the book is on the Kindle,
I wouldn’t have minded if the author had taken the extra time to include a page
break between each of the jokes or indexed them in some way. There were a lot
of marriage jokes and a plenty of jokes featuring a little boy named Joie, so
why not lump them together by theme? There’s nothing wrong with the arrangement
and presentation. For a hundred jokes and fifteen minutes to read through them,
the book is perfectly enjoyable. I just think the author could take advantage
of format and give a slicker presentation next time.



 

Price



I
found the book through a thread on the Kindleboards stating that it was free
today for having just been published. Assuming there will be a tomorrow, future
readers will be asked to pay $1.49 for the joke collection. Given that it’s
only a hundred jokes, I’d feel better about a 99¢ price
point, but out of curiosity I did a search on Amazon for other joke books
available on the Kindle and discovered a lot of them with similar content were
priced around $2.99. So I suppose it’s competitively priced. Personally, if the
book hadn’t been free, I probably would’ve ignored the thread in favor of doing
a random joke search on Google. Of course that search likely would’ve turned up
a pile of dead baby sex jokes chock full of chainsaws and bestiality. Much more
to my sense of humor, but if you’re in the market for some laughs with only a
few mildly racy themes, this is a pretty safe bet.



Overall, I’m going to give 100 Jolly Jokes for all Occasions 2½
stars out of five. It’s a competent, mostly family friendly joke book. There’s
nothing original and the humor is broad, but even then there are some laughs to
be had.

Bonnie Before The Brain Implants excessive book trailer

Hey
everybody! Earlier this week I had been considering making a book trailer for
my new novelette, Bonnie Before The Brain Implants . But then I decided my last book trailer, the one for Siren Night that I spent hours and hours
making and helped sell approximately two copies (but Grandma sure found it
cute), wasn't quite effective enough to be worth the effort. Although here it
is just the same:















That
said, I’m just going to post this entry filled with what I’d like to see in a ridiculously
high budget movie trailer, along with random quotes from the story. But as we
all know, when they make films from fiction, there are usually a few dramatic changes
made and some of the subtext is lost. So here’s a description of the trailer
that takes a lot of excessive liberties with the novelette.







Voice
over: the deep and smoky sound of Gerard Hume: “Let me ask the single most important question in regards to your
future. Don’t you want to know how it was done?”




Cut
to a young, buxom blonde woman in her mid-twenties. She wears a navy blue
uniform and a name tag that features a 3D display of her face, name, and title:
Bonnie Neman, Tour Guide. She turns from a microscope and looks just past the
audience. She says, “Yes sir. More than anything I want to know.”




Cut
to: Slow motion, panning up an oak tree. Beyond it, in the distance and filling
the entire screen is an immense office building standing in what appears to be
the middle of an infinite grass field. Along the wall giant letters reveal the
name: EXPONENTIAL INDUSTRIES. Within the oak tree, a ninja begins to stand.




Cut
to footage of scientists working in labs.




Cut
to Bonnie Neman walking down a well lit, white corridor with a man in his
forties, wearing a lab coat. He has a slight limp and uses a cane. As they
walk, the scientist, Javier Costello, explains, “We’re a privately funded subsidiary
that invents and innovates for a global conglomerate. Pharmaceuticals.
Nanotechnology. Cybernetics. Astrophysics. Every branch of science
collaborating together. All under one roof.”




Bonnie
says, “It’s like a dream.”




Cut
to a white class room with several map-like holograms of halls and rooms. The
desks are occupied by young women in identical uniforms as Bonnie. At a dry
erase board at the head of the class, an older, Asian woman, Carol Wei, is
pointing to a hologram and saying, “You must become comfortable working within
the population, and be prepared to handle even the most extreme situations.
Make no mistake. Although the work our scientists do is of the utmost
importance, your lives are always at risk.”




Cut
to a tour guide opening a door in a random hallway. A horde of iguanas leap out
and begin consuming her.




Cut
to a copper brick vibrating on a stage as various colored lasers wave around
it.




Cut
to a scientist bursting through a doorway, screaming, “We’ve spliced kittens
and puppies!”




Cut
to a panicked, injured woman in a lab coat, dragging herself back on the floor,
leaving a trail of blood. As the camera rapidly zooms toward her she screams, “Phil!
Phil! Phil!”




Cut
to a polar bear throwing a chair through a window and firing a gatling gun out
at a parking lot full of police and military.




Cut
to a young man being injected with something and turning to stone.




Cut
to Javier Costello and a slightly younger, sleazy man, Doug Houser, screaming
at one another as particles collide in the background. Javier screams, “You can’t
force me to do this!”

            Dough screams back, “Write the
report, Javier! You’ve been producing dick!”




Cut to a cafeteria full of scientists and other business people. One of them slams his tray of food against a table and screams out, "Don't you want to go to fucking Mars?" 




Cut
to a man in a space suit, orbiting earth. His lips are turning blue as he
suffocates. Zoom in to a microscopic level where water bears and lined up like
soldiers and waving around spears.




Cut
to random images of hallways exploding everywhere.




Cut
to the judges table at a beauty pageant. The judges all stare in disbelief as
one rifles through a rule book.




Cut
to Carol Wei screaming in the phone, “We need a contingency plan! This has to
be contained!”




Cut
to Bonnie Neman and Javier Costello putting on safety goggles.




Cut
to Doug Houser, sitting at his desk, rubbing lotion on his hands as he supports
a phone between his ear and shoulder. “Oh, come on,” he says. “It’s a little
bit funny.”




Cut
to an iguana. It belches.




Cut
to a pig wearing a blue ribbon. It oinks.




Cut
to Bonnie and Javier standing outside a lab. Javier whispers, “Don’t ever go in
there. He might be in there.”




Cut
to a humanoid robot, not entirely unlike a terminator. It lifts its head from a
microscope and says, “Everything you’ve ever achieved since the dawn of your
species has lead to this.”




Cut
to Bonnie Neman being strapped down to table by a group of surgeons. Among
them, a giant squid is wielding bone saws and scalpels. A voice over of her
repeats, “More than anything I want to know.”




Cut
to black. The title fades in.




Bonnie Before The Brain Implants




Available exclusively on the Amazon Kindle

A thing to be grateful for.

I'm glad my computer doesn't have a bacon button anywhere on it. Every single time somebody posts something or makes mention of bacon online, I immediately want some. And as of late, there seem to be a lot of you discussing it.

On Writing Smut in the Face of Adversity

My muse suggested I could write better smut than that 50 Shades of Gray dude. I was reluctant at first, as I always abide by the 'write what you know' rule in fiction. Recalling that the last time I ventured into anything smutty myself was ages ago and less remarkable than oh say... grocery shopping. But after a little bit of thought, I replied to her text with this:





"It was late and once
again my insomnia was victorious against my pillow. 'Ah, fuck it,' I sighed,
rolling like an overturned tortoise as I fought to unbed my fat belly and
waddle to the nearest box of tissue. And there, with perhaps the same passion an impoverished worker displays while collecting garbage at six in the morning, I
worked the shaft of my twig, lazily trying to motivate myself into building a
fire. Initially it proved little use, and I calculated some late night
television may feature some motivational "Yes, I am that desperate"
material. A Shake Weight commercial. A WNBA play-off game. Hunched in the dark,
I continued churning my own butter as I felt around the dull surfaces of the
bedroom, seeking the remote control. When it was no use, I aimed my blind gaze
in the direction of my bedside lamp, and tripped as I neared it. Falling,
flailing in the dark, my shoulder chipped the nightstand, and the nightstand
chipped my shoulder. The ground broke my fall, but the greater impact came when
the lamp fell from the nightstand and shattered over my scalp. From down the
hall, my father's voice rang out, "WHAT'S GOING ON IN THERE?" As
blood trickled down my face, I couldn't help find the humor in that I was at
least mildly successful. I made my head explode and the concussion would no
doubt put me to rest soon. Let them find my body this way, I thought, pressing
a dirty t-shirt over my wound and calling it a night. At 32, I clearly wasn't
going far enough in life to warrant a clean bandage or the dignity that went
with it."







And I suppose now is as good a time as any to mention that you can read my incredibly tasteful new novelette Bonnie Before The Brain Implants for only ninety-nine cents on the Amazon Kindle and free Kindle apps available on tablets, smart phones, and PCs everywhere.

 

 

"Bonnie Before The Brain Implants" preview

As some of you
have already noticed I recently published a new novelette, available exclusively
on the Amazon Kindle. And just to give you all a little preview here’s the
opening scene.






Bonnie Before The Brain Implants




Part 1 

Observation

* *
*

 As
some of you have already noticed, I recently published a new novelette,
available exclusively on the Amazon Kindle. And just to give you all a little
preview, here’s the opening scene.









Faking a smile had never been a
problem for Bonnie Neman. As a former, regular fifth or sixth place contestant
of the assorted beauty pageants her mother adored, she found she was able to
maintain a pleasant expression far longer than the average person. In her
running for Miss Teen USA, she even had a nervous breakdown and claimed it as
her talent.

“I can create a
lasting aura of contentment despite the adverse situation of being presented
like some prized pig in a room full of people who honestly don’t care because
Miss Georgia won this façade twenty minutes ago when she first walked on with
slightly perkier breasts than mine.” She then continued to stand on stage for
four and a half minutes, smiling and staring at the audience. Although she had
been disqualified for speaking against one of the other contestants, a clear
violation of rule 27, appendix B, the judges did admit that despite her
comment, they were in fact quite relaxed and felt comfortable for the duration
of her presentation.

Some talent. If anything
it had been a curse. As it turns out, smiling despite the circumstances had led
a lot of men on over the years. From bad dates to random suitors on the street
believing they were having a moment, it was just her natural expression.
Something her mother pushed so fiercely as a child that Bonnie couldn’t help
but show her whites whenever she felt all eyes were on her. Not that it wasn’t
without its advantages. She was the first of her graduating sorority sisters to
find a job, something she felt she owed significantly more to her smile than
any other qualification.

Over the phone she
had told her mother the same line she’d used on all her friends, “The place is
called Exponential Innovations. They’re a privately funded subsidiary that
invents and innovates for of some global conglomerate. Kind of like Thomas
Edison, but with an explosive budget. –I know, not bad for a particle physicist
and biochemist. –And before you say anything, I’m still glad to be working on
something that isn’t my figure. –No, Mom. I’m done with pageants. You need to
let it go. Have you considered the lucrative world of dog shows?”

To herself, alone in
her apartment, standing in the mirror, she faked her smile even to her own
reflection. “The first rung of an infinite ladder,” she whispered. With that
motivation applied, she zipped the side of her navy-blue miniskirt and buttoned
her matching, quasi-jacket/blouse. Stepping into her heels she decided there
was something mildly futuristic about the uniform. Or classical with a futuristic
twist. It seemed reminiscent of the conservative, classic style of Jackie
Kennedy, but then tweaked with a hint of slutty. Or at least if there had been
a line defining what was appropriate and what was not it could be drawn at the
exact height of her skirt.

The futuristic
feature came in the form of her nametag. It was a brass plate featuring a
digital 3D display of her face, faking that same smile and turning to the left
before looping back to center. In front of the animation, her name and job title
were prominently displayed.




Bonnie N.

Tour Guide




Snapping the plate
to magnets already stitched within the fabric of her uniform, she regarded the
animated display of herself with a confused blend of pride and uncertainty.
Only the text and tip of her nose seemed to pop out of the screen. The rest of
her head was sunken within, occupying an illusion of space that was otherwise
filled by the top of her not-quite-Miss-Georgia chest. On one hand, the nametag
was clever by design without being too gaudy. On the other, who in the world
wouldn’t be staring at her breasts now that she had a TV on them?

My birthday advice to Nate

My old roommate, Nate, turns 30 tomorrow. He wanted advice on what to do for his last day of being in his twenties. My response after somebody said, "Get a tattoo."





Okay. You REALLY want to do this right? Forget the new tattoo. You'll have scars before this is over. First off all: find a liquor store. Rob it! No cash. Booze. Cigars. More booze. Other customers? Did someone say hostages?! Guess what! They're watching you fight hobos til ten. What happens at ten? Steak dinner. Because that's what you eat before you go traffic jousting. That's on the way to the clubs where you and missus are getting thrown out for hitting on everybody. Thick and vulgar pick up lines aplenty. And who's coming home with you? Oh, only everybody in those clubs! And you're having a bon fire. With stolen booze. And cigars. And more booze. And hostages. And tickets for traffic violations. Is it after midnight yet? Did someone say birthday orgy? I think A LOT of after party clubbers just did!
Next day: You wake up. Scrambled eggs. French toast. Three new babies on the way. Genital warts. A warrant for your arrest. Guess what? Dead hostage! Oh shit! Choked on a t-bone. How'd it get there? Doesn't matter! Pack up the PlayStation. YOU'RE MOVING TO MEXICO! New job? Automobile assembly line. Hazarous conditions. You get burned. You breathe more factory glue than oxygen all day. Get home to tent in back alley. Welcome to 30. Happy birthday.

Coming soon: A new novelette!

Recently I decided to write a short story to post here instead of another blog droning on about whatever phallic joke I came up with that day. Having spent just about all of Thanksgiving writing it, the final word count put it at a novelette length. So instead of here, I gave it a couple of edits today during some study breaks and found an old picture I had taken of a water bear in a biology class to slap together a book cover. In the end, coming very, very soon to a Kindle near you:






 

 

I'll save the plot, themes and everything for another entry. For now, as I should be studying, I'll just say that I wrote this more or less because someone I know expressed his opinion and perspective on life and when he was done I decided that no matter what he said, it was still unproductive of me to punch him in the face.

 


In other news, Necromantica is bordering at novel length and Roadside Attraction: Volume 2: Tramp Stamp Vamp is still in its first draft, but slowly inching toward completion. I'll have updates about all three books soon. Probably not until I finish this semester.

Yet Another Suicide Attempt

Suicide seems to be a common
conversation with me lately. I’m not even the one bringing it up. It just
happens. A few weeks ago my muse and I were discussing Kavorkian. Earlier this
evening a good friend was telling me about her dark days when she considered
taking too many pills. For those of you unacquainted with myself and this blog,
now is probably a good time to mention that I’m entirely okay with assisted
suicide. I myself have every intention of ending my own life some day.




Not now. I certainly wouldn’t say
I’m depressed. Maybe a little bummed out these days, but I’m nowhere near a
danger to myself or anybody else. But depending on circumstances, I do have every
intention of taking my own life.




Not until I’m old and probably
terminal with one thing or another. Or, even less likely, if I decide I’ve
accomplished everything I want out of life. For example, I’ve never been to Japan.
I’ve never driven a car over any sweet jumps. I’ve never saved the world! Nor
brought it too its knees! I’ve never hung out on top of a breadrack and did the
sort of things people do when they hang out on top of breadracks.




Yes, I assure you, that last
sentence made complete sense to one reader.




AnywayS, my planned finale isn’t
for a long way off.




But for when it does come, as I’ve
now said a couple of times now, I’d like to be thrown out of plane and fall
silently back to Earth while watching the night sky. That’d be pretty peaceful.




But why not take things a step
further?




Such as this evening when my
friend was discussing pills, I thought to myself, “Pills? Any asshole can take
pills! I’m Keith Fucking Blenman!”




Let’s build off the plane in the
night sky.




First, I’d like to be shoved out
of the plane by some bikini clad celebrity.




It doesn’t even matter which one.
Just as long as they’re famous enough for me to have heard of them, and they’re
in a bikini.




“Keith, we were able to get both
Rooney Mara and Danny DeVito on stand-by.”




…Okay, who in their life gets
thrown out of planes by a bikini clad Danny DeVito? Rooney Mara probably shoves
ten people out of planes a day. I mean, she has an awesome name and would
definitely look way better as the final person to ever make any sort of
physical contact with me, but I really thought Danny DeVito made for a great
Penguin in Batman Returns.




Given how depraved the rest of this entry is, that genuinely is a tough decision.




Anyways, I’ll let you guys decide
on your own celebrity in the comments section. “Who should shove Keith out of a
plane whilst bikini clad?” We can put it to a vote. Feel free to include
pictures.




But no, that’s not all. Once I’m
out of the plane, falling through the night sky, naked as the day I was born
with all my elderly wrinkles and twiggy bits flapping in the intense winds, I
want a target. I want to land on something.




My preference? Any of the faces
on Mount Rushmore will do. Ideally I’d like to smack
onto one of the foreheads and slowly slide down, only to peel off at the nose.
And then, if possible, fall into a group of starved, warring cannibals.




Of course when my suicide is
reported on in the media, in interviews I want all of my friends and family to
say, “It was political.” 

The unabridged list of everything I hate right now

1. People who've read one book and claim to know everything.

On villains in modern cinema in the face of adversity

Why the hell do they keep letting themselves get captured only to reveal some magnificent escape ten to fifteen minutes later?

It was brilliant when The Joker pulled off his escape in The Dark Knight.



When Loki did it in The Avengers it was pretty cool.



And when... that guy...  did the very same thing in Skyfall I thought, "Oh. He's watched The Dark Knight and The Avengers."


Yes, it's good and fine using a subway train to attack your enemies. We all know how cool it looked in Batman Begins. But the perfection of it...



"Don't worry. I have this figured out. While I'm climbing a ladder and James Bond catches up to me and holds me at gun point, I'll hit several buttons on my radio attack him with a conveniently timed train out of nowhere."



Oh... uh.... spoilers?



Not that I didn't enjoy the movie. The sequence when they were rigging the house with traps and explosives would've been even cooler if Macaulay Culkin showed up and said, "I can save you! I've done this with paint cans and Micro Machines as a boy." But over all, pretty good flick. James Bond continues to be awesome. Not unlike Jason Bourne and Jack Bauer.



...Also, if I ever write a spy novel, I'm just going to call the protagonist Agent Ja-Bo.