Man Martin's Blog, page 128

If Shakespeare's Plays were Written by MFA Students

The Montagues and Capulets Meet.
An Argument is AvertedRomeo and Juliet: Sampson and Gregory of the Capulets meet Abraham and Balthasar of Montagues in the streets of Verona,  An argument nearly breaks out, but Gregor thinks better of it, and an incident is avoided.  Romeo pines for Rosaline and has shut himself up in a dark room, writing gloomy poetry.  Mercutio suggests he go to the Capulet's party and meet some new women, but Romeo declines.  Romeo goes back to his room to write poetry.  The rest of the play is taken up with back-story on Juliet's childhood.

King Lear: King Lear wishes to retire, but can't bring himself to relinquish control of his kingdom.  The rest of the play is back-story on why Goneril and Regan resent Cordelia.

Macbeth: Macbeth meets three witches who prophesy he will be Thane of Cawdor and King of Scotland.  He shares this news with Lady Macbeth who urges him to take action to bring this to pass.  Both are at a loss, however, as to what action he should take.  The two of them make a tasty salad of cilantro and endive while they discuss options and the state of their marriage.

Hamlet: Hamlet meets his father's ghost, who orders Hamlet to seek revenge on Gertrude and Claudius for his murder.  Hamlet spends the rest of the play in a dither...  Come to think of it, this version would be the same as Shakespeare's.

God in a Box

So the ancient Hebrews, when they went into battle, they'd bring along the Ark of the Covenant.  They figured God lived in there, and if they had God with them, they couldn't possibly lose, right?

Wrong.

If you read the Old Testament, you might get the idea Judea had this great military history, but frankly they were no match for the Babylonians, or the Persians, or the Egyptians, or the Greeks, or the Romans.  But they kept going into battle with the Ark, and often as not, they'd get their butts kicked.  Every once in a while, the opposing army captured the Ark, and according to the Bible, God would put a curse on them until they returned it, but more than likely, they were just like, "What's this piece of junk?  Here, you can have it."

Around the time Babylon overran the place and took the whole bunch into captivity, it began to occur to people that maybe the Ark wasn't doing them much good after all, and most of the rest of the Bible is puzzling out the two questions: if God isn't in this box of ours, where is He?  And if you can't put God in a box and have Him win battles for you, what's the point of having Him in the first place?

These days the concept of God in a Box has come back.  Fundamentalists who deny any truth that isn't in the Bible believe they have God in a box.  The name of the box is the Bible, and a handy portable box it is, too.  People who preach the gospel of prosperity are basically pedaling God-in-a-Box Theology.  With God at your side, you can't lose the (economic) battle.  Saying God will make you rich, amounts to the same thing as saying He'll defeat the Hitites for you.  If you can carry God around with you, He will conveniently clobber whomever you want clobbered.

On Easter Sunday, so says Luke, Mary goes to the tomb looking for Jesus.  And boy, is she upset when the stone's rolled away.  She figures someone must've stolen him.  But she should have known.  You can't keep God in a box.

Remember When?

Nancy and I were straightening up the house recently, throwing out junk - my old Olympic medals , the letter from the Nobel Committee saying, "you were this close" - and we came across this whole pile of things that at first we couldn't even identify.  They were made of paper and cardboard and they were covered in words inside and out.

We were hauling them up to the curb to be taken off to the landfill, puzzling over what they might be, and Nancy said, "You know what I think these are?  Books."

"Yes," I said.  "I think you may be right, they may be - what did you call them? - books.  But what are these other things?  They're like books, but they're thinner and flimsier."

Nancy said she believed these were magazines, and gradually it all came back to me.  I remembered sitting and reading a book for hours.  I actually looked forward to setting aside time just to read a good book.  Sometimes, after I read a book I especially enjoyed, I'd go back and read it all over again!  And when I was with other people, instead of talking about TV shows, we'd talk about books.  "Did you read that book?" I'd say, or, "That's a good book, you really ought to read it."  You could actually start a conversation by saying, "Read any good books lately?"

And magazines!  We used to subscribe to this one called The New Yorker, which doesn't make any sense because we didn't live anywhere near New York, but it was crazy!  I swear, it seemed like we got a new one every week!  And I'd read it!  There were funny little cartoons and movie reviews and articles and stories.  And sometimes someone would mention something, and I'd say, "Hey, did you read that article in The New Yorker, and they'd say, "Why yes, I did," and we'd talk about it.

And - I swear, I'm not making this part up - there used to be entire stores that sold nothing but books and magazines.  And people would go in there and buy them, and talk to each other about what might be good to read.  And if there weren't anything good to read, someone would say, "You need to go to the bookstore (they were called bookstores) on so-and-so street.  They have lots of good books to read there.  And after you read them, you can talk about them."

What a funny world it used to be.  How funny people used to be.  Now we just turn on Netflix or Amazon Prime and watch TV.  And when we see other people, we talk about TV shows.

Life is so much better now.

How to Write a Novel

An Early Draft of Moby Dick Began, "Call. Me. Ishmael."First of all, you'll need to start with a word.  I usually start off with "the" or "it," but opinions vary.  Some beginning writers say, "Wouldn't it be better to start off with two words?"  No, one is better.  Then if the first word works out, you can always put a second one after it.


After you've put in a few words, pretty soon you're going to discover you need some punctuation and stuff.  Obviously you'll need a period sooner or later, but don't rush it.  I can't tell you how many good novels were spoiled because the writer rushed his periods.  Did you know an early draft of Moby Dick began, "Call.  Me.  Ishmael"?  Well, it didn't, I was making that up, but it goes to show the trouble you can get yourself into with too many periods too soon.


So before I get to the period, I usually throw in a comma or two.  So when do you put in a comma?  A good rule of thumb is to put one anytime there's a pause.  Like, if you get up to go to the bathroom or answer the telephone, put in a comma.


After a while you've written your first whole sentence!  Congratulations.  Just a few dozen thousand more of those, and your novel will be ready for the agent.  Now's a good time to pause and indulge in a little self-doubt.  What are you doing writing a novel, anyways?  Who do you think you're fooling?  Wait a minute, shouldn't that be whom do you think you're fooling?  Crap.  A real novelist would know something like that.


Stand in front of the mirror and take off your shirt.  Jeez, you've really let yourself go, haven't you?  Oh, well.  Pretty soon you'll be dead and you and your sorry excuse for a novel will be mercifully forgotten.  Hooray.  You're being cremated, so you won't even have a gravestone.  Utter, complete oblivion.  So much the better.


Good job on the self-doubt!  Now get back to work and type another word.


Repeat this process until done.

The Gospel of Mrs. Christ

An ancient, business-card-sized papyrus fragment that appears to quote Jesus Christ discussing his wife is real, Harvard University announced Thursday. The fragment caused international uproar when it was revealed by a Harvard historian in September 2012.
- Jaweed Kaleem, Huffington Post

All my friends think it would be so great being married to Jesus.  "Oh, I bet he's a wonderful husband!"  "You are so lucky!"  Well, let tell you, it's not all it's cracked up to be.

Don't get me wrong, he's a great guy, and I love him and all.  You can't help loving him.  But still, he can raise the dead, but he can't remember to put down the seat.  I'm like, you can walk on water, but maybe try sitting in it one time, and you'd show some consideration.

And the in-laws, don't even get me started on the in-laws.  Mary's all, "My son, this... and my son that..." blah, blah, blah.  It's like she worships the guy, like he was the son of God or something.  She spoiled him rotten, and now who has to deal with it?  Me.  I'm always saying, "Close the door!  What, were you born in a barn?" and he's like, "As a matter of fact, I was."  That's how he is.  He has to win every argument, he always has to be right.  He'll be like, "Let me tell you a parable about these three servants," and I'm just, "All I want to know is did you remember to pay the landlord or not."

And his friends!  Simon called Peter's okay.  But Judas Iscariot kind of gives me the creeps.  And John the Beloved is so dang emo, it makes you want to slap him.  Not one of them has a job.  They used to be fishermen, I think, but they all got laid off or something.  How do you lose a job catching fish?  Get a pole.  Bam.  Instant employment.  Simon called Peter says they're fishers of men.  Whatever that means.  Where's the money in that, is what I want to know, but do they ever listen to me?  Oh, no.

And they're always mooching off us.  "Say, you got any of those left over loaves and fishes?"  And everything Jesus says they treat it like it was gospel.  "Wow!  How does he keep coming up with these things?  Someone needs to write this stuff down!  How do you spell 'prodigal?'"  All that sucking-up gets on your nerves after a while.

I'll give him one thing.  He's good with the groceries, although I am getting a little sick of loaves and fishes.  But don't ask him to do any yard work.  I made that mistake one time.  I got out and ask, "What's with the fig tree?"  And he says, "It bore no fruit, so I withered it."

Wait for fig season, dumb-ass.  But it was already too late.

Then the other night he comes home late, and I'm like, "Where've you been?"  And he says, "Just hanging out with the guys."  I say, "Was Mary there?"  And he says, "Mom?"  And I go, "No, not that Mary.  The other one.  Magdalene."  I've seen how she looks at him.  Whore.  Anyway, he acts all innocent - he's always so innocent - like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, but I'm pretty sure something was up.  His feet were oily.

And cooking!  He tries to help out, I'll give him that.  The other night at supper, I said, "This is good.  What is it?"  "My body and blood," he says.  Ugh.  It's enough to make you eat loaves and fishes.

Don't get me wrong, like I say, he's a great guy and marriage is good, not paradise, but good.  I just wish he'd get some new friends.  Judas Iscariot comes byjust now  and says, "Hey, have you seen Jesus around?  I'm looking for him."  I say, "He's gone to Gethsemane - let him mess up somebody else's garden, ha-ha.  Who are all those Roman Centurions?"  And Judas gets this kind of shifty look and is all like, "What Roman Centurions?  Them?  Oh, nobody."

I hope he don't get Jesus in any trouble.  You got to be careful who you hang out with these days.

Z is for Zebra

Z is for Zebra.

Okay, whatcha gonna do?  Z is the coolest letter in the alphabet, but there just aren't that many animals that start with it.  Like there's Zona, a Madagascar fish, but other than its first letter, it doesn't have much to recommend it.  And there's zalmoxes, an extinct rodent-like creature, but I've already done an extinct rodent-like creature.  And there's zanclodon, a dinosaur, which is way cool, except it turns out zanclodon probably isn't even the right name for it.

So it's down to Z is for Zebra.

Though a zebra is an equine, I heard somewhere it shares less DNA in common with a horse than we do with a chimpanzee.  I didn't bother to check the fact, though.  Really, who cares?

I mean, there's so many cool names they could have used for an animal.  Spiny Tailed Zook for example, or Zoobly, or Zurgonojapes.  But no, none of those are real words.  So I'm down to Z for Zebra.

Here's a thing, I bet you didn't know.  Zoologists used to think zebras were white with black stripes, but it turns out it's the other way around.  That's the sort of thing zoologists care about I guess.
Zoologist isn't an animal.  Neither is zoatrope or zoom-zoom.

Oh, well.

Z is for Zebra.

Y is for Yeti

Y is for Yeti.

The Yeti is an ape-like creature of the Himalayas.  In 1929. Lieutenant-Colonel Charles Howard-Bury coined the name Abominable Snowman, but Yeti is the preferred term.  Abominable Snowman sounds like it has a bad attitude and a carrot for a nose.  The Yeti is a cryptid, an animal which hasn't been documented by the scientific community.  Every cryptid dreams of becoming a real, verifiable critter, losing that "cryp" in front of its name and becoming a tid like the rest of us.

Some animals have made it; the first preserved platypus displayed in Britain was damaged when scientists tried to cut off the duckbill, assuming it was a taxidermied fake.  Giant Pandas were also once considered only legendary ditto for Narwhales.

The Yeti, on a scale of plausibility from 1 to 10, with 1 being jackalopes and 10 being coelacanths, stands at about 3, somewhere between the Loch Ness Monster and Sasquatch.

There world is a sadder and dimmer place as one by one we consign the might-be's to the status of mere folklore and earth's fauna is reduced to a very large but finite number of organisms, diminishing almost daily because of extinction.  So even though no one seriously believes in the Yeti anymore, I hope he hangs in there for at least one more generation, the last of a short list of cryptids.

X is for Xanclomys

X is for Xanclomys.

If this thing looks like a rat, it very nearly is.

It, and its relatives in the multituberculates thrived about a hundred million years ago, back when mammals were still making up their minds between being placental or marsupial.  Some were as large as beavers, some as small as mice.  They lived in the ground, and up in the trees.  If you were a stegosaurus, you could hardly move without stepping on a multituberculate, which is convenient for modern fossil hunters.

The multituberculates occupied virtually every niche as modern rodents: there were squirrel-like multituberculates, hamster-like multituberculates, for all I know, even cute little bunny-rabbit-multituberculates.  They were so much like rodents their own mamas must've thought they were; they had rodent-like bone structure, even long rodent-like incisors.

But they were not rodents; they were no more closely related to rodents than we are.

The rodents appeared about 66 million years ago, after xanclomys and the other multituberculates had already gotten a 60-million-year head start.  But the rodents had one crucial advantage.  The posterior of their incisors has no enamel, meaning it will grow the entire lifetime of the animal.  When the animal gnaws, the incisor gets a razor-like edge.  Instead of wearing away, like poor old xanclomys, the rodent is equipped with a set of ever-lasting, self-sharpening teeth.

The multituberculates had a good run of it; they lived longer than any other lineage of mammals, but they were no match for the rodents.  Now there's not a single multituberculate left, not one, and our friend xanclomys is known to us by only one remaining fossil.

The moral of the story is, if you make your living acting like a rat, you run the risk of being outdone when a real rat comes along.

Bonus Letter: P is for Platypus

P is for Platypus.

When the first Platypus, stuffed and mounted, was presented to the British Royal Society, the esteemed colleagues assumed it had to be a fake, and attempted to remove the duckbill with scissors.  They imagined it was some species of beaver with a duckbill stitched on.  They can be forgiven, I think, for this error; the platypus is such an extraordinary creature on so many counts, it's hard to believe such a thing can be real.

The platypus' bill is by no means its most remarkable feature, but it's a place to start.  Like ducks and hadrosaurs, the platybus uses its bill to dig for food on river bottoms, but the platypus' bill is equipped with electroreceptors.  When it dives, it closes its eyes, nose, and ears, and locates prey, by picking up electrical currents generated by muscular contractions.  Oh, my lord, how cool is that?

The platypus also has the distinction of being the only venomous mammal.  The male has a spur on its hind foot that excretes a venom fatal to smaller animals and excruciating to humans.

Humans like to imagine they are at the top of the evolutionary ladder, and that platypi and such-like are primitve and less-evolved.  But indeed, the platypus is perfectly evolved to suit its environment.  Can you say as much, oh, sunscreen-wearing biped?  The platypus is an amazing and beautiful creature and deserves our respect.

Oh, yeah, and it lays eggs.

W is for Woodlouse

W is for Woodlouse.

The is an ugly name for an inoffensive and even beneficial creature.  As children, we called them roly-polies, because when you handled one, it rolled itself into a neat little armored ball.  So far as I know, I have never harmed a woodlouse in anger, and the more I know about them, the gladder I didn't.

The woodlouse came to America aboard European ships, but unlike other invasive species, such as rats, surveyors, and dogs, it has not caused much stir because it makes so little fuss, and because it's so good at munching dead leaves and turning them to compost.

You might think the woodlouse is some sort of centipede, but nothing could be further from the truth.  It is actually a crustacean, and the only land-dwelling crustacean on the earth.  The flavor, in case you're thinking of eating one, is like urine.  So I am told by a reliable source, although this means some brave soul not only ate a woodlouse but sipped urine as a basis of comparison.