Quick shout . . .
For Jeff Huber & Company’s post at ePluribus Media:
The Ides of December:
Smoke, Mirrors and War Powers
Scary times, here in America. We’re flirting with fascism, people, and it remains to be seen if our Senators and Representatives will grow the necessary balls to stand up to George Bush and his band of thugs.
Don’t bend over for Bush. Let your Senators and Representatives know how you feel!
D.
What this boy wants from a romance novel
For a change, I thought I’d post something for Smart Bitches Day which really concerns romance as a genre. To wit: how can you romance writers get more guys to read your stuff?
I’m not a typical guy, so please imagine that my every comment is prefaced with, “For what it’s worth . . . ” I despise team sports, I dislike gory violence in movies (unless it’s so far over the top that it’s unmistakably fake), and I have no desire to hang out with other guys. I don’t drink beer, get drunk, or smoke cigars. I really do like long walks on the beach, but that’s because I love finding bits of washed-up skeletons and gooey dead things.
So. For what it’s worth:
If I’m going to read a romance, I want it to be about romance. If I want a crime novel, I’ll read a crime novel. If I want something historically accurate, I’ll read Jane Austen. Give me a contemporary woman I can root for and I’m yours. Stephen, you’re excepted from this because your book has a monster and that’s cool. And Lilith, don’t get mad at me. Nothing wrong with paranormals, but I’d rather be reading the written equivalent of Sex and the City.
Next: the protagonists had better be likable, smart, and funny as hell. They should be people I would want to hang out with. Their witty dialog should be a joy to behold, and the world should sparkle because they’re alive. Think Martin Blank and Debi Newberry in Grosse Point Blank, or Nina and Jamie in Truly Madly Deeply.
Note that humor serves two roles: it is entertaining all by itself (and if you’re not trying to entertain, what the hell are you trying to do?) and it makes us care for the characters. They’ve made us laugh, and so they become our friends. We want to see good things happen to them.
If you’re going to play the boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl game, the ‘loses’ part had better not involve some stupid misunderstanding. Smart people don’t have stupid misunderstandings. Never never never. Maybe they do in real life, but I don’t want to read about a stupid misunderstanding, okay?
Paragraph number eight, and I haven’t said a single thing about sex. Why? Because it isn’t necessary. Think about it. Grosse Point Blank? Airplane on the bed, sexual tension, no actual sex. Truly Madly Deeply? Rickman’s dead, for heaven’s sake. Ew.
Sex and the City had no graphic sex, yet it titillated our prurient cravings and topped out our outrageous-o-meters. How? With language. If those writers can do it, you can do it, too.
It’s not that I have anything against graphic sex; it’s just that so few people do it well. Also, as any student of Cheers will tell you, sex dissipates all tension between your male and female protags. True, Sex and the City is a good counter-example. Their writers created tension in the issue of relationship survival. (Do any of you remember McCall’s magazine’s regular column, Can This Marriage Be Saved?) If you’re going to remove the sexual tension element, you had better replace it with something else.
If you’re going to include graphic sex, please, please don’t get goofy about it. Sex is not an expression of love. Sex is an expression of lust. Some time ago, I wrote a post about what guys think about during sex. Damn it, I can’t find it now, but here’s the bottom line: what we think about isn’t interesting. Lots of “One Mississippi, Two Mississippi,” if you must know. So, hot tip: keep it in the gal’s POV. Women may have the same problem as men, but I don’t know that, so you can write whatever you like from the gal’s POV and I won’t know if you’re bullshitting me.
My wife might, but that’s off topic.
One last point: the HEA (happily ever after — just wanted to let you know I’m not completely ignorant)? I’m not that hooked on it, or at least, I’d like to see a few liberties taken. Maybe they end up happily ever after with other people. Maybe they drift apart and realize they’re not right for one another. Maybe I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, but it seems to me that some degree of unpredictability in the ending is a good thing.
There. I’ve done it. A genuine Smart Bitches post, and no spiders.
D.
The Wizard of Oil
Wow. My own photoshopping efforts pale in comparison to Dood Abides’ The Wizard of Oil. Wicked Bitch Condi’s Ruby Ferragamos had me in tears.
Props to Jesus’ General for that one.
D.
Shamelessly pandering to the women in my audience
. . . plus, what is it? 10% of guys?
Check out The Pretty Boys Club if you want proof that gay guys have the best bodies.
As for why I’m looking at a gay blog: they’re the #3 humor blog at blogtopsites, and I like to check out the competition. All the competition.
Besides — those chiselled bodies serve to remind me that I would totally suck as a gay guy.
D.
PS:
On the subject of sucking, Atrios has an interesting snip regarding the Orthodox Jewish practice of metzitzah b’peh (oral suctioning of the infant penis after circumcision). I’d encountered that bit of trivia when I researched my recent post on circumcision, but I figured it had to be apocryphal. Guess not.
Another evil meme
Thank Suisan for this one.
Seven Things To Do Before I Die:
You know, I wanted to write a few funny one-liners for that one, but “Before I Die” is such a buzz-kill that I have to take the blasted thing seriously. Sorry, “Go on Southeast Asian sex junket” will have to stay off the list. For now.
1. Go to Europe and wander around to my heart’s content.
2. Sell my novel, go on a book tour, and have dozens of screaming teenage girls line up so that I can autograph their breasts.
3. Bake one of those big, fat, fancy pastry things Tony Shalhoub makes at the end of Big Night.
4. Tour the world and meet all of y’all.
5. Watch Michelle Malkin and Ann Coulter bitch-slap each other silly on Meet the Press. That’s not a joke. I really want to see that before I die.
6. See my wife regain her health.
7. See my son grow up into a responsible, caring adult.
Seven Things I Cannot Do:
1. Speak Chinese (except for “Hoa hoa hoa,” which means, “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” and “Aya!” which means, “Get outa here!”)
2. Program a VCR.
3. Fix my car, or fix any damn thing, for that matter.
4. Not get angry at Jake (that’s his suggestion).
5. Respect George W. Bush.
6. Kick ass in a shooter (any Unreal Tournament fans out there?)
7. Die, unless someone chops off my head with one fat mofo of a sword, in which case he’ll get all my power. There can be only one!
Seven Things That Attract Me To My Spouse (or Significant Other, Best Friend, etc.)
1. Her bravery.
2. She knows how to fix stuff.
3. She’s smarter than me.
4. She can balance a checkbook and keep me out of financial trouble.
5. She laughs at my jokes.
6. She’s a hell of a critter.
7. She’s not repulsed by my body.
Seven Things I Say (or Write) Most Often:
1. Jake!
2. Karen, hit the mute. This is funny!
3. Kitty, goddammit!
4. No.
5. Gimme some sugar, baby (inspired by Bruce Campbell, natch).
6. (To patients) What can I do for you today?
7. (To patients) Eeeeeew!
Catrina, one of my office staff, has asked me to add:
8. *SIGH*
9. Am I done yet?
Seven Books (or Series) I love:
1. The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler
2. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
3. Terry Pratchett’s Diskworld books
4. John LeCarre’s George Smiley novels
5. John D. Fitzgerald’s Great Brain books (loved ’em as a kid)
6. As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
7. Martin Cruz Smith’s Arkady Renko novels
Seven Movies I Would Watch Over and Over Again:
1. The Godfather, because it promotes good family values.
2. Truly, Madly, Deeply, for reasons mentioned here.
3. Gross Point Blank, for the screenplay, and for John Cusack, of course.
4. Prophecy, for the screenplay, and for Christopher Walken.
5. Young Frankenstein, because Teri Garr was so yummy. And, I love the scene at the end with the monster in bed with Madeline Kahn.
6. Army of Darkness, for the screenplay, and for Bruce Campbell.
7. The Exorcist, because it keeps getting funnier every time.
Seven People I Want To Join In (Be Tagged)
1. My newest pal, Blue Gal.
2. Beth, because I know she’ll never forgive me for it.
3. Candy, to punish her for not coming around here lately.
4. Pat Kirby, cuz I know she can dish it.
5. Darla, so she’ll take a break from all that theorizin’.
6. Gabriele, so she’ll shame us with her list of books she loves.
7. Lilith, cuz she’s wonky on pain meds (sorry to hear it, Lili) and needs distraction.
D.
Maureen Dowd, reigning queen of one-liners
Reprinted in full by Tennessee Guerilla Women, Maureen Dowd’s latest column, “Hot Monkey Love,” is packed with sizzling one-liners:
But this time, [President Bush] may want to think twice before strapping on a Texas-shaped belt buckle. W. might inadvertently conjure up images of Bushback Mountain.
The High Plains, one of the few remaining arenas where men were men, may now evoke something more ambiguous, like men with men. After “Brokeback Mountain,” pitching that pup tent on the prairie will never seem the same.
Can a culture built on laconic cowboys like John Wayne and Clint Eastwood survive one rough-hewn cowboy crooning to another, as Jake Gyllenhaal’s Jack Twist tells Heath Ledger’s Ennis Del Mar, “Sometimes I miss you so much, I can hardly stand it,” and, “I wish I knew how to quit you”?
Everything will have to be re-evaluated. “High Plains Drifter” now sounds like a guy who might get arrested in a bus station bathroom. And audiences may be ready for “The Good, the Bad and the Bad Hair Day.”
Hollywood is busy sensitizing – and emotionally layering – archetypal macho guys, including our most famous alpha male. He’s still strong and decisive. His back’s as hairy as ever*. But it’s just not the same Kong.
This lovable overgrown monkey is more like the brooding, wounded and steadfast romantic heroes Heathcliff and Rick Blaine. Like Jane Austen’s Mr. Darcy, Peter Jackson’s big ape goes for gals with spunk. He likes babes who juggle more than jiggle.
This gorilla doesn’t go around tossing “gorilla dust,” as Ross Perot used to call it, just to get into another alpha’s space. He doesn’t look for a T. Rex simply to rip its jaws apart – he only protects his loved ones. He’d rather hang out on his mountain, enjoying the sunset and watching his gal juggle and do pratfalls.
And much, much more.
D.
*Maybe I have a chance as a romantic lead after all.
Technorati tags: Maureen Dowd Bush Gay King Kong Dubya Dowd Brokeback Mountain
Ooh, I love this bit.
Here’s where I’m at in the editing of The Brakan Correspondent. For those of you who haven’t heard me talking about this, the Huurans are wingless birds with arms and hands. That’s all the set-up you need.
The alarm was especially loud for those unfortunate enough to be stationed ten feet from the speakers.
“You wanna check that out?†said the cock named Govil.
“Nuh-uh. You?†said his partner, the one they called Bard.
“One of us oughta. You see anything on the monitors?â€
Bard shook his head and passed Govil a small spiral notepad.
“This one’s a keeper,†said Bard. “I feel it in my blood.â€
Govil read the wide, childish scrawl: Spring is the croolest month. Sigh!
“Croolest, eh?†said Govil. “I like that. You gonna put some torture in it?â€
Bard snagged the notepad and gave Govil an injured look. “It ain’t about torture. It’s about the essential emptiness of the Huuran spirit.â€
Govil clucked and studied the monitors. Boring, every single one. And still that damned alarm kept screaming like an eastside hen in heat.
“It’s a shame,†he said, flicking the switch that killed the alarm. “I would read a poem about torture. Anyway, how come you only write first lines? That’s all I ever see outa you.â€
“It’s cuz that first line’s so important. A poem from the heart, first line to last, it has to go on and on like it can’t go no other way.â€
“A sense of inevitability?†said Govil.
“Whatever.â€
Something flickered on the monitor for loading dock B.
“You see that?†said Govil.
“What?â€
“Ah, fluff it. We can both check it out.â€
D.
J. Edgar Bush
Apologies to those of you who dislike political posts, but there’s too much going on lately for me to ignore.
Meet the Bobbsie twins:
Props to Senate Democrats for growing a pair (several pairs, actually) yesterday. They defeated the extension of George W. Bush’s Patriot Act, and thank heavens for that.
Snip from the Yahoo News article linked above:
“We need to be more vigilant,” agreed Sen. John Sununu, a Republican from New Hampshire, where the state motto is “Live Free or Die.” He quoted Benjamin Franklin: “Those that would give up essential liberty in pursuit of a little temporary security deserve neither liberty nor security.”
Meanwhile, as long as we’re on the subject of liberty, Dubya is taking some much-needed heat for his program of warrantless wiretaps of American citizens. Bipartisan disgust in Little Brother’s tactics will undoubtedly lead to Congressional hearings. Another snip from Yahoo News:
“There is no doubt that this is inappropriate,” declared Republican Sen. Arlen Specter of Pennsylvania, chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee. He promised hearings early next year.
This 2002 article at the History News Network, entitled “J. Edgar Ashcroft?” by Marjorie Cohn, covers the comparison of Hoover’s America versus America post-9/11. We’ve learned a lot since then; perhaps most significantly, we’ve learned that Bush himself authored many of the current civil rights violations.
Full coverage at The Huffington Post, with interesting commentary at The Washington note here and here. Finally, over at Daily Kos, SusanG reports that in Bush’s radio address, “Bush acknowledged authorizing warrantless eavesdropping on U.S. citizens more than a dozen times – and he vowed to continue to do so.”
Snip:
“This authorization is a vital tool in our war against the terrorists. It is critical to saving American lives. The American people expect me to do everything in my power, under our laws and Constitution, to protect them and their civil liberties and that is exactly what I will continue to do as long as I am president of the United States,” Bush said.
Protect them and their civil liberties? No one’s buying it, Little Brother.
D.
Technorati tags:
patriot act, Civil Liberties, bush, wiretap, J. Edgar Hoover
Review of Intergalactic Medicine Show premier
Top of the heap at Tangent Online, at least for the moment, is my review of Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show, an e-zine that features a short story by Card and seven other short stories.
Highlight of this review: at long last, Eugie has had to take her red pen to my immortal words. She didn’t like the word ‘fugliest,’ as in,
The premier issue of Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show features Card’s “Mazer in Prison,†seven other stories (some good, some not so good), and the fugliest Prairie Muffin ever to appear on SF cover art.
. . . choosing instead the phrase, “most unappealing.” Well, at least she kept “Prairie Muffin.” Take a look at the cover, and tell me I’m wrong.
I wish I could say I loved this collection, but I can’t. It’s a mixed bag, with three fine stories, and four that range from disappointing to [insert snarky adjective here]. Angry authors, feel free to leave your comments below.
For those of you who came here expecting humor, all I have are two great links from this morning’s YesButNoButYes (they’re currently running a story about a teddy bear with a butthole):
Santa Troubles: Claymation Santa’s DUI.
Woomba: 21st Century feminine hygeine.
Enjoy.
D.