What do you think is happening in Lake Woebegone now that Garrison Keillor has packed it in and gone back to his home planet? I'd like to think that without Keillor's folksy wisdom to keep them in check, those above-average children are going to invent doomsday weapons and overthrow their strong mothers and good looking fathers, and Lake Woebegone will become something like Ender's Game meets Children of the Corn.
That, or it'll be an epic showdown between technologically superior, heavily-armed above average children and hulking, nigh-unstoppable strong mothers, with the good-looking fathers as the damsel-in-distress figure threatened in the middle. Rugged, capable midwestern farmers in tight, dirty Levis and ripped flannels, their dairy-fed muscular torsos heaving as they try to get enough wind to continue screaming as their irradiated powerhouse of a wife rends steel and titanium asunder in an attempt to get inside the mechanized powersuit designed and worn by her misbehaving above-average eight year old.
I suppose there were probably strong women and good looking men in Woebegone who weren't parents, but if I had to guess, they left town as soon as the first quiet, nerdy little boy with a polish surname and an irritating precocious affect came lumbering out of the garage in a fifteen foot tall ambulatory tank powered by extraterrestrial elements. I mean, I would.
Been building the books nonstop the last week or so, and I think I'm finally ready to bust down an agent's door and hold them at squirrel-point until they agree to take over my book-building and publicity responsibilities. Jayzuz, I hate this shit. I mean, I don't hate it totally, but I definitely want to get rolling on the next book, which is in the planning stages and needs another seven or fifty hours of stoned-out brainstorming barnstorm work. I just sent in a proof order for the Origami Man reissue, so that's that. I think I get to do some of my chosen creative crap later on this afternoon. Holly looyah.
Covers are looking amazing. First one is done, I just plopped it across the Origami Man page. Tom McGrath does some amazing work, I must say. Check him out here, he's really something.
Saw the debate last night. I have a working holiday visa for New Zealand, I have a fresh passport and some money, and Diane is running around in those hills with my kidney, so I suppose now is as good a time as it'll ever be for me to hit the far side of the planet for a while. I'm excited for a change, I just wish that I didn't feel increasingly like there this country is nipping at my heels, trying to get me to leave. It was cute when I got my new passport in less than a week. It stopped being cute when I watched Trump in the first debate, and it turned into something like a microwaved suppurating guinea pig when I saw him last night. Motherfucker needs to get darted in the neck by animal control.
To paraphrase a quote from the great Jack Nicholson, "This [country] needs an enema!"
You ever open up your website and there's like, more cobwebs than not cobwebs? And then you inhale some of the cobwebs when you're groping for the light switch, and you start coughing and a lot more cobwebs fall on you and you wonder all of a sudden if 'cobweb spiders' are a thing, and then you fall on you ass and you're covered in cobwebs and you realize none of this actually happened, because web sites are just digital images on a screen, and however terrifying they might be, cobweb spiders can't live inside a flat screen?
But if you're reading this on an old school CRT monitor, watch out. Cobweb spiders.
Been editing my ass off lately. That's a clever way to tell you that bikini season is coming, and I've been hitting the squats hard.
Wait, no, I'm talking about writing. I've been editing the book. Still on track to release the sequel sometime in the next several months, although given that advertising is a thing I have to do, I may delay the release in order to foster interest. Foment? Fricassee. I need to fricassee interest in my book.
But I am editing. And the editing goes well. I just haven't been on my hustle, lately. Jay-Z would be disappointed in me. He might even say I've been knocking the hustle, even though presumably you can't do that. He might, however, tempter his disapproval with some recognition of my grind. Been grinding on this book like Beyonce grinds...the heads of screws down when she's refinishing her deck. She's got kids running barefoot, nobody wants their foot cut open on a rusty screw. Nobody is putting a ring on that.
This is the view from where I am:
This is where I live, now. This desk. Typical day is wake up, edit until I start having fantasies about running away and joining the Marine's Circus (they have SEALs) go to the gym to remind myself I live in a world populated by people who aren't just extensions of myself, then go to work and make those people drinks. Rinse, repeat.
It's not surprising to me that I chose to do this. What surprises me is the degree to which I am compelled to do this. If I had done anything else, if I were a lawyer, or a sanitation worker, or a professional killer, I would still be telling myself stories in my head. I'm still doing it, even as I work on The Adventures of Gregory Samson, Space Explorer. I'm coming up with other stories, writing them down, putting them aside for later, like a squirrel hoarding nuts that fall out of his ears.
That would be one confused, happy squirrel. I suppose that's me. A happy person, confused at their luck.
I'll update this when I have more to say. In the meantime, my idiot twitter feed and utterly narcissistic Instagram feed will most likely remain idiotic and narcissistic, respectively, and sporadically amusing.
Hemingway never had to run his own god damn twitter feed.
Heh-HEY there, America, and thanks for stopping by for another edition of Ben Needed Something For His Blog Trivia! I'm your host, the interchangeable Id, Ego and Super-Ego of Benjamin Mumford-Zisk, here to tell you that tree pollen is the number on killer of Americans under ninety-nine, so don't forget to spay and neuter your houseplants!
I have this team that shows up a lot of Sundays who call themselves them Muffdivers. They sit in the corner and yell "Muff Die VERS!" every chance they get. They get a lot of chances, cause they're like twenty-one and go to college, so they're used to going after every opening they see. I also pause a lot. I think they might be scared of silence. They're great.
Hey, we're gonna do our super secret bonus round! All these questions fit a theme, and if you can tell me what the theme is, I'll give you five extra points! Well, I won't give them to you, I'm not scoring this and I'm actually a figment of your imagination!
I'm not wearing underwear.
I don't have a body.
2.2 SUPER SECRET BONUS ROUND
Didja GET IT?
Man, I didn't. I never do. And they won't give me the answers until after the commercials, cause ONE TIME I made a few bets. Never gonna let me forget that, ARE ya, Ernie? No, I'm not gonna let it go, my goddam knee pops every time I sit down!
Because they broke it!
Because I couldn't pay the vig, ERNIE.
Bill? I thought he was a Mormon?
They can lapse?
Huh. Learn something new every day.
All right, folks, I'm betting there's a lot of one and two point responses to that last one, we'll be back with answers, after this!
Where's my cigarettes?
Yeah, I did quit, there's a key bump in there.
It's been a long year, Ern.
Well, Marsha left, and I think she wants a divorce, I dunno, I'm having panic attacks every–
"Well, no, I just don't think we can trust someone like her in the White House."
"She was Secretary of State, dad. And I mean, even if you don't like her, what about Bernie-"
"Oh, don't talk to me about that socialist. I mean, I haven't made up my MIND to vote for Trump, but..."
Does this happen to you? Do you find your family holidays ruined by off-the-rails conservative elements in your family? Are you tired of mentally compensating for loved ones who veil racist, misogynistic or culturally suicidal sentiments behind vaguely-articulated political dogma? Then PrickOff is for you!
Prickoff is a medical-grade corrosive substance bound up in a viscous antiseptic and anesthetic solution that can be swabbed on to the unevolved members of your family to quickly and painlessly burn them away. PrickOff works in minutes, and cleans up with water!
So next time Gramma starts talking about the Thugs in the White House, or Uncle Frank tells you he supports Donald Trump's plan to bomb Agraba, don't nod and smile and add to your ulcer! Reach for the PrickOff, and Make America Great again!
PrickOff. Remember, there's a chance that gold-mopped psychopath could win, so the more of these morons we keep from voting, the better.
Trivia time is back!
Last night's game featured both the only super secret bonus theme that no one has ever guessed, and the only time I've gotten applause for an answer no one knew. The answers in round 2.2 all fit a theme...can you tell me what it is?
Funniest team name
2.2 SUPER SECRET BONUS ROUND
Trivia time it's trivia time it's tri vee ah TIIIME!
Sorry I'm late this week folks, I was stuck in 1871 making sure that President Arglaban's (#68) great^9 grandfather wasn't crushed by a rolling ball of moose parts. Long story.
Let's get started!
Bear in mind, this was a game for SUNDAY, 12/6
2.2 SUPER SECRET BONUS ROUND
This week we are gonna switch things up. I’m gonna read you ten titles of movies. Except these movie titles have been translated into another language, and then translated back into English. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to tell me what these movies were called originally.
We'll be right back, after these messages!
Unhappy down under?
Having trouble rounding third base?
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Tough on grit, gentle on the ol' Sheriff's Badge.
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Last night's trivia was a trip. Let me tell you. Nice crowd, good energy and WOAH some high scores.
There are apparently some people out there who still remember every member of G-Unit.
If you really want to get the full experience, by the way, I recommend you listen to the songs under the questions as you work. If you're not done by the time the songs are done, FAILURE! EXILE!
Daya, Hide Away
Meat Puppets, Backwater
Thin Lizzy, Jailbreak
2.2 SUPER SECRET BONUS ROUND
Per usual these questions fit a theme. What is that theme?
Wallflowers, One Headlight
The Weeknd In The Night
Steve N Seagulls Thunderstruck
Stay tuned for the answers, after THESE MESSAGES!
"So I was on my way to work and I was trying to drink my Starbucks and do my makeup and talk to my girlfriend all while on the train and I kept dropping my phone in my triple-sweet extra-hot nonfat Chai Latte, but like we were having this really important convo about the guy she's been talking to and how like they like to netflix and chill and stuff and junk but like neither of them is trying to do anything serious like a relationship-relationship right? I mean that's not crazy or anything they're just looking for like casual sex and companionship and help with their bills but like they don't want to be a couple or anything like that's too much, and like I kept getting chai in my hair and then my boss was a total dick about it when I asked if I could stop in at Forever 21 for maybe like a new blouse cause the old one had chai on it and really I needed to keep talking to my friend cause like I have my problems too right? Like the guy I'VE been talking to is TOTALLY talking to this other girl too and he says it's not serious but you KNOW that he's not telling me the truth cause I'VE been talking to this other guy too just in case you know? So like I know what it looks like and I TOTALLY needed the time to get my shirt and talk to my girl but like my boss was–"
SCREEEEEEECAAAAW *flap flap flap* SCREEEEEEEEEEE *flap smack crunch* Omigod get it off of her oh god her face Jesus Christ SCREEEEEEEAAAAW *flap flap flap* Screeeeeeeeeeeeee *flap flap*
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Flamberg's. Because sometimes the children AREN'T our future.
The unkempt thoughts of Benjamin Mumford-Zisk