Observations, Comments and Criticisms
1. Dear Achy Breaky Tart [you know what I'm talkin' 'bout, Willis]: Shut. The. F***. Up. And go away. Go go, shoo. Go on, now.
2. Dear Government Officials: My friends are out of work, veterans and their families are being denied benefits, and our nation is a laughing stock. Get your sh*t together and work it out. If Uncle Sam was an Italian mother, and the Republican and Democratic Parties were her children, you both would have been dragged downstairs to the basement kitchen by your ears, whipped on the butt with a wooden spoon, forced to peel boiled tomatoes until your fingers blister and made to work your sh*t OUT. That's all before she makes you hug. And if she hears a peep out of either of you two until you've made up, you'll get the shoe. Point being – No one wants to see politicians hugging.
C. I like iOS7. There. I said it. It's fast, has additional features, and allows me to integrate all my stuff. So now when I download ABBA's greatest hits on my iPad it simultaneously synchs with my phone. And you can do funky things with pictures.
4. I may have misspelled, there. By ABBA I of course meant… fine. I like ABBA. Don't judge me.
5. I don't have writer's block. I have novel block. There's a difference. Clearly I am writing, as evidenced by this nonsense.
(We figured it was the caffeine….)
Oh, be quiet. I can write satire and cynicism. I can write songs. [Songs. I seriously wrote songs. Still WTFing on that one….] I can write witty Facebook posts, legal briefs, coherent emails, and other pieces of communication. What I cannot do, however, is sit down and complete book three in The Deep Space Chronicles. I am a hundred pages in and…. Ooooh shiny! Squirrel! Blonde! Big boo… *ahem* Let's just say I get a little distracted. It will come, in time. So until then I apologize to my readers who have asked about its release. Soon, hopefully.
6. "Briefs" are only acceptable when preceded by the word "legal." This is a steadfast rule once you pass beyond the age of five. Purge those tighty-whities. Let the boys breath!! And don't even get me started on boxer-briefs. Boxer-briefs are an abomination. They're like, um… Frankenpants.
7. Some of the best advice I've received lately has come from chocolate wrappers.
(What, exactly, was in your coffee this morning?)
Will you BE QUIET!!! Seriously. You're pretend-parenthetical heckling is derailing my train of thought. [Hey, look at that! I made a funny, what are those things called when you make a metaphorical comparison of something or other… damn it. See what you did?]
I'm not kidding. In the last two days I have consumed a couple of pieces of that fancy schmancy chocolate that puts little sayings on the inside of its wrappers. The advice, in no particular order: Do what feels right; and naughty can be nice. So put nicely naughty feel righty stuff on your agendas. The chocolate has spoken.
8. Layla, whether the original, up-tempo version or the slower acoustic version, is one of the greatest songs ever. Eric Clapton is one of the greatest musicians ever. Because he makes music. He doesn't hop around in white skinny jeans with a gold glove and say baby baby baby into an auto-tuned microphone and just call it music. And no man nowhere no how never ever anywhere ever should wear skinny jeans. Besides, it's after Labor Day. White pants? Really? But I digress. Rock on, Eric.
9. God still hates the city of Buffalo's sports teams. Of this I am certain. The Buffalo Bills starting quarterback this Sunday is a guy that they called up from the practice squad, and the Sabres have managed a measly four goals in four games to start the season 0-3-1. What hath we done to reap thy wrath, oh Heavenly Father? We gaveth thee Buffalo Wings, is that not enougheth????
10. I actually have applesauce in my refrigerator. Actual, in a jar, homemade applesauce. It was a gift from a couple of friends that came to visit me last weekend. And it is damn tasty, let me tell you. See? That's what life is all about. When you get confused, when you get down and need a pick-me-up, when things seem bleak and all you want to do is strangle a Muppet and cry… Applesauce makes everything better. Say it. Say it out loud. Applesauce. Made ya grin, didn't it?
(Strangle a Muppet???)
You have your psychosis, I have mine.
(I… yeah. You're right.)
See?
(Applesauce.)
My work is done here.
© J.J. Goodman 2013. All rights reserved