I’m not a Star Wars fanboy. Never was, never will be. Sure, I saw the first three as a kid (and had the good taste to despise ewoks even then), but when Lucas started grinding the cash cow with Episode 1, I read the reviews. Feh. Not even Natalie Hershlag* could get me off my ass & down to the theater . . . and this, despite the fact she was just as cute as she was in The Professional, but grown up now. I’ll wait until Alan Moore’s V for Vendetta comes out; Natalie plays Evey.
Back to the story that should have died long ago in a galaxy far, far away. It’s bad enough Walmart defines science fiction as ‘that which has Star Wars in the title’; now, Blogger — my host — persists in posting a link to Darth Vader’s Blog on its ‘Blogs of Note’ list, even though Darth has thrown in the quill. This evening, I popped over to see what Darth is up to, and discovered that he wrote his last post nearly two weeks ago. As of this writing, Darth’s terminal entry has racked up close to 600 comments. 600 comments, my minions, and for what? I defy you to read that Sith bastard’s blather without falling asleep. Will someone unplug his respirator — please?
I had stopped by before. All this resentment has been brewing for some time, let me tell you. This isn’t merely the ire of a non-fanboy left out in the cold, the one kid who doesn’t get the joke. It’s the fact that I do get the joke, and it isn’t as funny as it could be. Not by half. It enrages me, seeing a great comic opportunity pissed away.
(Aren’t there more important things in the world for me to be upset about? You betcha, but this isn’t a political blog. I understand there are already a few of those out there in the blogosphere.)
But I have plans. Oh, do I have plans. And I won’t have to rip off anyone’s creative product except my own.
Watch this space.
D.
*Natalie, Natalie. Why did you have to take a shikseh name like Portman? Think of all the Jewish boys who would not have given up looking for Jewish brides, simply because they knew there were girls like you in the Jewniverse?
No one emailed me today, asking me what my master plan might be for Shatter*. No one asked this question because, as of this writing, you’re all content to lurk. Nevertheless, I felt no one’s question warranted a well thought out reply, and here it is. I fully expect no one to respond to this column to let me know his (or her – hard to tell with no one, that oddball) reaction.
As with all great plans, I’m starting small. Page by page, I have been editing my medical website, placing eye-catching icons** linked to Shatter at the bottom of each page. The Medical Consumer Advocate generates a good number of hits. Some of those folks are bound to wonder what on earth a guy like me will write in his blog.
When I get some sense that folks are actually reading this column, I’ll move on to step two: my discovery of the Virgin Mary in a square of matzah. That’s right, I’m going to find a matzah cracker with the Blessed Virgin’s image in it, and I’m going to post that image exclusively here, on THIS page, along with an article urging all readers to email this link to seven of their friends. If they do so, they will have good fortune for seven years; but if they fail to do so, they will be cursed with ill luck for the same interval.
I believe this to be a sound marketing strategy.
But to what end, no one asks? Well, once I have a real readership, I’ll serialize The Brakan Correspondent on my website. Periodic appearances of You Know Who – perhaps on rye bread, or in the iridescent sheen of an old slice of roast beef – may be necessary to drive my readers that way. We’ll have to see about that. In any case, the inevitable will happen. Tor Books will offer me a sweet contract, and my novel will become a smash overnight sensation.
And then (says no one) all will bow down before you? Foolish, puny nobody. Not yet. Does anyone bow down to J. K. Rowling, John Grisham, Stephen King, or Dan “Well it was just a Cracker Jacks rebus†Brown? NO. Authors get no respect.
Except on The Daily Show. With the success of The Brakan Correspondent, fellow yid Jon Stewart will have to invite me on the show. He’ll have read my book, naturally, and he’ll zoom in on one rather embarrassing detail, that the spider god’s name (Obrah, translated, ‘she who eats’) sounds suspiciously like Oprah, as in Winfrey; and, furthermore, didn’t I call Oprah Winfrey the Troll Queen in the story, “My Troll Lover� And what do I have against Oprah, anyway?
I’ll save the situation famously with some smart and snappy reply, so winningly in fact that Oprah, watching at home, will be quite charmed. She’ll have me on her show, and the repartee will make my stint on The Daily Show seem like a wake. Ratings will soar. Oprah will offer me a regular spot.
And THEN all will bow down before you?
Pipe down, you. No, my friendship with Oprah will merely ensure inclusion of my novels in her Book of the Month Club. I will become fabulously wealthy***. I’ll be offered movie contracts on my books weeks before I’ve penned the outlines. I’ll become close friends with Sam Raimi, Peter Jackson, and Tim Burton; they’ll put me in the movie versions of my books – bit rolls at first, supporting rolls afterwards.
I’ll suck, naturally, but that will hardly matter. What will matter – and this is the important bit – what will matter is, people will forget I’m a novelist. (My original profession will show up as a Trivial Pursuit question circa 2015.) They’ll know me only as a familiar face. That little, old, bald guy who always gets the girls. (What? Oh, come on! nobody says. And yet, if Jack Nicholson can snag Helen Hunt, why can’t I have Heather Graham?)
At some point I’ll be elected president of the Screen Actors Guild; shortly after, Governor of California. I think you know where I’m heading.
With my feet up on some big oak desk on 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue**** and with my finger on one of those infamous buttons – you know what I mean, you’ve watched Dr. Strangelove – then, all will bow down before me.
D.
*This BLOG, okay?
**Okay, so I drew this lame bird on Paint Shop Pro. If I manage to win the Fantasy Challenge with “My Troll Loverâ€, I’ll win the prize: Saborra will do some commissioned artwork for me. Then I’ll have a delicious icon at the bottom of each page.
***Michael Crichton will spare change me as I leave my Bel Air manse. Bill Gates will ask me to float him a loan or three.
****They say that in this country anyone can become President. Ample proof can be found by studying the careers of every US President from Richard Nixon on.
Stay with me on this.
The horror, boys and girls. The horror.
D