There is no spoon. We do, however, have plenty of sporks.
Caption Contest Winners
Man, there was some tough competition this week. The final result was a tie between Humor-Blogs.com member Chris C., and David McMahon, bestselling author and inmate of the world's largest prison.
It's been a while since I've done a straight-up shout-out, so here are some links for your enjoyment.
First, I was going to tell you to get your movie quotes in to The Spoon's contest, but I'm too late. Instead, you'll just have to go there and watch me get my ass kicked.
If the phrase "The early bird gets caught the continuous screw" strikes a chord with you, you might want to get the full scoop at Central Snark.
A common response to my blog reviews on humor-blogs.com is that "humor is subjective." As the whole point of writing a review of something is to provide an objective appraisal, I take this as a nice way of saying, "What you're trying to do here is stupid."
I'm not sure why people who have a philosophical difference with the concept of reviews bother to read the reviews in the first place. I suspect that if the review were more in line with their own opinion, the commenter wouldn't be so quick to resort to the "humor is subjective" line. My favorite comments are the ones where the reader tells me that humor is subjective, and then goes on to tell me why the negative review of a blog is full of crap. It's like, "Nobody's opinion is better than anyone else's, and besides, you're wrong and here's why."
Obviously there is a large subjective element to humor. But it's simply not true that humor is completely subjective. Original is better than unoriginal. Pithy is better than wordy. Unpredictable is better than predictable. Topical is better than dated. John Belushi is better than Jim Belushi. You get the idea.
I think the same is true of TV shows, movies, music, etc. You might like dramas and I might like comedies, but we can all agree that wooden acting and cliched dialog are to be avoided. You might like classical and I might like rock, but we can all agree that Billy Ray Cyrus is a black spot in the history of music.
Best. Song. Ever.
All this thinking about subjectivity and objectivity got started when Mrs. Diesel and I were waiting for a movie to start the other day. A countrified version of a Kelly Clarkson song was wafting through the theater speakers. My wife said, "Man, they can make a country song out of anything, can't they?"
And I realized that the answer to that was, "Pretty much, yeah."
To me, this is an objective indication of how much country music sucks. They make rock songs into country songs all the time, but you can't make a country song into a rock song. Why not? I'll tell you why not: Because it's easy to slow down a song and add some twangy guitars and overpronounced R's to the vocals, but if you speed up a country song and take out the twang, you don't end up with rock. You probably end up with something that sounds like Gin Blossoms B-sides, and not even people who knew the Gin Blossoms in high school want to hear that.
Rap music is even worse. Most rap songs are just a beat and some sound samples stolen from a rock song. And I'm no expert on music, but I know that you're supposed to have a melody, and you can't have one if you speak the lyrics in a monotone. You understand that's what "rap" means, right? It means "talking." You're talking over a background of drum machine beat and some looped bits of a Van Halen song. I don't think that even technically qualifies as music. Think of it this way: How many rock songs can you name that sample rap songs?
The answer is none, because they don't. Sampling a rap song would be like stealing food that a homeless person stole from another homeless person who picked it out of the dumpster behind Arby's. Sure, it might still be edible, but nobody wants a Big Beef and Cheddar that a wino has licked the cheese off.
As far as I can tell, the music hierarchy goes like this:
Classical
Rock
Pop
Country
That surprisingly pleasant squeaking noise that the paper towel makes when you clean the windows
Rap
Now just so you don't think that I'm a snob, I'll fully admit that I'm not sophisticated enough to "get" classical music. Classical music is just way too subtle for me to appreciate it. I need a thumping beat in my music so that I know what to do with my head. I need the occasional squealing guitar so that I can air guitar and pretend I'm onstage with Gun's 'n' Roses back before Axl got fat. And most of all, I need a clear auditory queue to indicate when I should commence lip-biting.
When I hear classical music, I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing or feeling. And I don't even know how to do air violin. When I'm listening to classical music, I feel like a precocious ten year old watching a Bergman film, who just knows he's missing something but can't put his finger on what it is. Maybe when I'm older I'll get it, I think.
That's why classical music is great for movies. When I see choppers hurtling over the jungle in Apocalypse Now, I think, "Oh, so THAT's what this song is about." And then there are classics like The John MacClaine Symphony, Thus Spake the Giant Black Monolith, and the Lone Ranger Overture. Once I'm instructed by a movie that I'm supposed to be feeling awe or excitement or boredom, I can react accordingly.
Now take a song like Tears for Fears' "Sowing the Seeds of Love", in contrast. There's a ton of crazy stuff going on in that song, and I can listen to it over and over and keep noticing new stuff that I hadn't noticed before. And yet, it's also catchy enough that the first time I heard it I thought, "Wow, that's a pretty cool song," and not, "Wow, I wonder if I would be happier listening to myself chewing?"
But at the extreme of simplicity, you have crap like The Black Eyed Peas' song "My Humps." Now I can imagine that if I were at the apex of an absinthe bender, I might enjoy listening to that song one time. But after a single listening in a highly impaired state, I would have absorbed all the complexity that song has to offer. It's like reading a Dr. Seuss book. Everybody loves Dr. Seuss, but trust me, if you've had to read Horton Hears a Hoo every night for three weeks, you know why old Ted Geisel had to change his name. He was afraid of being hunted down and having his Thing One and Thing Two shoved down his throat.
So I know that I should like classical music more than I do, and I should like rap even less than I do, but I'm a simple man and I can listen to just about anything with a decent beat.
And like everyone, I have to admit to having some guilty pleasures. There are some songs that I know suck, and yet I get a ridiculous amount of enjoyment out of them. Why do I own a copy of Asia's greatest hits? The songs are, without exception, overwrought and insipid. Yet I get an inexplicable thrill when they pop up in my iTunes playlist. Huey Lewis, Damn Yankees, Phil Collins.... I can't explain or defend it, but I love them all. I once had A-Ha's "Take on Me" as a ringtone, because it made getting phone calls fun. Try getting THAT song out of your head when you hear it every time the phone rings.
So what's my point? Hell if I know. I guess it's that there is something to be said for trying to objectively evaluate music, or movies, or blogs, or whatever else. But occasionally you just have to give yourself license to say, "Screw it. I don't know why I like it, but I do. Now CRANK IT!"
Did you enjoy this post? There's plenty more like it in my book, Antisocial Commentary. Order your copy and help me to not have to get a real job, so I can keep writing this crap. Thanks!
Ok, folks. Mrs. Diesel has picked her favorites, and now it's up to you to pick the winner. There were over 115 entries this time, so there was some very stiff competition.
I didn't enter this time, but if I had, I might have submitted something like this:
"He's not a spambot, guys! Leia is a real princess, and she needs my bank account number so she can get her money off Alderaan!"
But since I didn't, here are the contenders. The poll should appear at the bottom of the post. If it doesn't, you're probably viewing this from a PC at your workplace that has javascript disabled. Also, you should probably get back to work.
Blissfully unaware of what a "carbon freeze" actually entailed, Diesel considered whether he should ask if there were any other flavors available. - wyo
"R2D2, point to the place on the doll where he touched you." - Chris C
Note to Self: "Stormpoopers" isn't funny. - crazy aunt bea
"We're from the Emperor's Halitosis Brigade. Use the floss, Luke. Use the floss." - Stushie
Wow, you really CAN see yourself in the bald spot...Mort, come check this out! - Brad
We spent Saturday packing up copies of Antisocial Commentary to send to you lovely folks. Here's a shot of the labeling team in action:
They were so intent on their assigned tasks that they could barely be bothered to look up, much less smile for the camera.
For my part, I spent most of the day doing two of my least favorite things: Writing with a pen and signing my name. I am -- if you can believe this -- the treasurer for my church, and one of my duties is to sign the staff's paychecks. I hate doing this so much that I once wrote an entire post about it. Here's an excerpt:
Much of my discomfort with signing checks actually has to do with the fact that my signature is kind of embarrassing. I mean, it's like ridiculously bad. It looks like a three year old. No, not like the signature of a three-year-old; it's so bad that it actually looks like a drawing of a small child. Well, you can sort of make out an 'M,' and there's a semi-legible 'L,' but unfortunately neither of those letters is actually present in my name.
My signature is so bad because I try to write my name really fast, partly because it's boring to me since it always ends the same, but mostly because I'm trying to hide the fact that my handwriting, like my table manners, hasn't really progressed since the 4th grade. I blame my dreadful handwriting on the fact that I am left-handed, and the fact that like many left-handers I cleverly conceal this by turning my whole hand completely upside down while I write, so that the letters lean to the right, just like big people's, and I'm in excruciating pain. The result is cursive that looks just like it was written by a person's right hand. Assuming, of course, that the person in question is also left-handed. And probably drunk.
I mention this partly so that you will feel sorry for me, having to sign several dozen books on a single day, but also so that you won't send me nasty emails when you open the book and find that a retarded monkey has vandalized your copy. I'm sorry, the retarded monkey is me. If you want a copy that hasn't been scribbled in, feel free to send that one back and I'll send you a replacement copy. Seriously.
Also, as I mentioned, I'm severely left-handed. So left-handed, in fact, that I found it virtually impossible to sign the first page of the book without bending the cover all to hell. I signed the first copy for my mom, and then signed another copy for her upside down, thanking her for the left-handed gene (the book was upside down, not me). The upside-down way was so much easier that I signed all of the rest of them that way. I've decided that's going to be the mark of authenticity for my signature. That and the retarded monkey thing.
I tried to personalize the inscriptions, but in some cases I resorted to simply transcribing the lyrics of whatever song I was listening to at the time. Hence the comments, "Don't stop believing," and "Dear ______, you truly are More Human Than Human."
Anyway, I'll be heading to the post office as soon as I hit Publish on this post. I'm sending most of them Media Mail, which means it will probably be 5-10 days before it gets to you. Hopefully you'll be so excited by the time you get it that you'll forgive the retarded monkey for screwing up your book.
Usually I pick a current movie to insert myself into, but pretty much all the movies out right now suck. So I'm going back to an old classic... sort of.
This isn't actually a scene from Star Wars, but I found this photo online and thought it was too good to waste. So what are you waiting for? Gimme a caption already. You know the rules: Submit your caption in the comments by Monday night. Mrs. Diesel will pick her favorites and I'll post them in a poll on Tuesday.
I know you've probably got a thousand questions about this. What does it mean to be an Adjutant Inspector? How does one get picked? What does "adjutant" mean?
All I can tell you is that it wouldn't hurt to buy my book, Antisocial Commentary. Beyond that, you'll just have to visit the other Adjutant Inspectors and try to get them to tell you what the secret is.
I expect to be sending the book orders out on Saturday. I've gotten payment from almost all of you. If you pre-ordered a copy and haven't paid yet, please email me for payment instructions (Don't worry, I won't yell at you).
Speaking of books, I have posted my thoughts on Haroun and the Sea of Stories at my Central Booking blog. Yeah, remember that? I'm still slogging through my reading list, believe it or not.
That's about it for today. Come back tomorrow for this week's caption contest!
Summary of our 14th anniversary: I put a chicken casserole from Costco in the oven. Mrs. Diesel gets home from work and lies down because she's exhausted from her first day teaching. She gets up and walks back into the kitchen, where I am busy at my laptop. She notices there are roses in a pitcher on the counter. "Where did these come from?" she asks.
"Oh," I said, having completely forgotten that I bought her roses. "Those are for you." I add, with a flourish, "SURPRISE!"
She kisses me on my absentminded head and we eat dinner. Then she leaves for "back to school night," and is gone until 8:30. She's exhausted. We watch TV for an hour, then go to bed.
And as if that weren't enough excitement for one week, today is my daughter Speed Pony's sixth birthday! That's right, we got married one day (and 8 years) before she was born.
Speed Pony is completely insane, and too smart for her own good. A sampling of her wit:
She asked my wife why our cat, Phoebe, is so furry. "She's a mammal," Mrs. Diesel says. "Mammals have fur or hair on their bodies."
Speed Pony stroked the cat's thick fur and said, "Phoebe is WAY a mammal."
Another time, she came out of her room at about 10pm, to find me eating a bowl of cereal. "What are you eating?" she asked. "Cereal," I said.
She turned to my wife and said, "Man, is he nocturnal or what?"
I don't know where she gets this stuff. Anyway, more excitement tonight as we get to go to Speed Pony's fine dining establishment of choice for dinner: McDonald's.
I leave you with the photo stylings of my eight year old, Climber. Enjoy.
"How do you work this thing?"
"Hey, look up here!"
"Going to my happy place..."
"Having fun?"
Mr. Finger
Mr. Pillow
"I want my money!"
"I'm going in after the cat. PLEASE don't take a picture of me."
Guess what? It's the 14th anniversary of Mrs. Diesel putting up with me today!
This is a picture of us when we were young and in love, not to mention slightly out of focus.
What does this mean to you? Well, it means tomorrow's post will probably suck. Oh well. I'll try to pull myself together for the caption contest on Friday.
Oh, and on Thursday I'm going to be doing some housecleaning of the Adjutant Inspector ranks, so be on your best behavior. Word to the wise: telling Mrs. Diesel how pretty she looks never hurts.
Lookit how cute she is.
Update: If you came here looking for something funny, check out Joel's guest post at the Snark.
With my own presidential hopes dwindling, I have turned my attention to the current crop of candidates. Which of these gentlemen or harshlady, I wondered, is worthy of my vote?
Sadly, I find all the popular the candidates wanting. It's not that they're bad candidates; I just find myself wishing for a little more. For that reason, I have begun to consider possible running mates for each of the leading candidates -- people who might give the ticket that extra oomph it needs.
Candidate
Possible Running Mate
Hillary Clinton
Monica Lewinsky
PROS:
Once held an actual paid job in the White House
Good for taking on tasks Hillary finds distasteful
May be able to forge a model of cooperation that will also work between Sunnites and Shi'ites
CONS:
Voters may think, "She's ok, but is she really the best we can do? I mean, couldn't we have any babe we want?"
No longer a spring chicken
With two women on the ticket, voters may be reluctant to ask important underwear-related questions at town hall meetings
May placate voters who have been upset to learn that the "John Edwards" campaign does not in fact have multiple candidates named John Edward
Popular with Chicago's several million dead voters
Experience duping media and public
CONS:
"I'm getting the letter I. Iron... Ira... Ira something. Irap? Iram? We're definitely going to be attacked by terrorists from a country starting with I, R, A. Does that help?"
Squirrelly face and hair gel make me want to punch him
Thomas Jefferson won't shut the hell up during cabinet meetings
Efforts to bait Ann Coulter into calling him a "faggot" have so far been unsuccessful
Did you enjoy this post? There's plenty more like it in my book, Antisocial Commentary. Order your copy and help me to not have to get a real job, so I can keep writing this crap. Thanks!
I'm just reaching to pull out my book you sat on so I can show it to everybody......again.
Thanks, everybody, for playing and/or voting. I'll have another one for you this Friday. And I'll see you back here on Monday with an update on the presidential election.
Barely three weeks into a 13 year campaign, insiders report that the Diesel for President organization is struggling to regain the momentum of its heady early days. Having blown most of its budget on Mentos and bubblewrap, the group is having trouble keeping its focus. Rancorous infighting has broken out between staffers, who haven't been paid since the campaign's inception, and volunteers, who have accidentally been paid every day and twice on Tuesdays.
Meanwhile, there is confusion at the highest levels regarding how many levels there are, and how one can know what level one is on when the the elevator buttons have been replaced with Mentos. Rumors of nude thumb wrestling among the female staffers are rampant, and have not been nearly as helpful as expected in raising morale.
Senior campaign officials admit to having underestimated the difficulty of explaining to voters that Diesel is not in fact running for the current presidential election, nor the next one, nor the one after that, but rather the one after that. Some of the difficulty is blamed on the misguided strategy of targeting future voters who are currently between the ages of five and seven. The campaign's Tomorrow's Voters Today program apparently consists mostly of bribing grade schoolers with bubble wrap. A transcript of one of these exchanges was obtained by reporters when it was mistakenly mailed by overworked staffers to the cable company.
Staffer: Hey kid, you want some of this? Kid: I'm not supposed to talk to strangers. Staffer: I'm not a stranger, I work for Diesel. You know, the Mattress Police? Kid: So you're a policeman? Staffer: Why not? So do you want some? Kid: What is it? Staffer: It's bubble wrap. Kid: Why the crap would I want that? Staffer: It's fun. Watch. [Popping noises] Kid: What's that in your other hand? Staffer: Nothing. Isn't the bubble wrap cool? I bet your friends don't have bubble wrap. Kid: Is that candy? Staffer: Let's focus on the bubble wrap. I give you the bubble wrap, and you promise to vote for Diesel in 2020. Kid: Gimme some candy and I won't scream that you touched my bottom. Staffer: Ok, ok. Here. Take the friggin' candy. Just vote for Diesel in 2020, alright? Kid: Yeah, whatever. What the -- These are MENTOS. Staffer: What's wrong with Mentos? They're the Freshmaker. Kid: (Yelling) Miss Jordan, this man touched my bottom! [Tires squealing]
The campaign's slogan, "Diesel: Time for a Change is Coming," was unfamiliar to 68% of the respondents in a recent survey, despite the fact that the survey was conducted inside the campaign's headquarters. The campaign has bandied about several other possible slogans, such as "Diesel: Past Imperfect, Future Tense!" and "Diesel: Something something something," which was inadvertently printed on 70,000 bumper stickers and 50 yards of bubble wrap.
To make matters worse, the organization's tax exempt status has recently come under fire from the I.R.S. Highly-placed sources indicate that the government is leaning toward classifying "Diesel in 2020" as either an illegal money laundering operation or a "dangerous cult." Diesel could not be reached for comment, but he is reported to be hoping for the latter.
At this point, the only hope for Diesel's campaign would seem to be a major shakeup, such as an embezzlement scandal or the selection of a new candidate. Senior campaign officials, vacationing in the Cayman Islands, have denied seriously considering either of these options. "We're 100% committed to Dennis," said one official. "We believe in the mission of the Apple Police."
Perhaps it was too much to hope for, that a regular guy like Diesel could some day become president. Perhaps it was too little to hope for. Perhaps, on the other hand, it was the exact right amount to hope for. Those would seem to be the options.
Diesel, for his part, isn't giving up. Not until he gets those federal matching funds anyway.
Did you enjoy this post? There's plenty more like it in my book, Antisocial Commentary. Order your copy and help me to not have to get a real job, so I can keep writing this crap. Thanks!
I sent out an email a few days ago to all the people who pre-ordered Antisocial Commentary. It probably got stuck in a few spam filters, so here's a link you can use to pay for the book. This form is only for people who pre-ordered the book. If you haven't pre-ordered it, you can buy the book here. One more note for the pre-orderers: If the email address you provided to PayPal is different from the one you gave me, please send me an email at diesel - at- mattresspolice.com letting me know, so that I can make sure I give credit to the right person.
In other news, I have gotten rid of my Links page and put the whole Mattress Police Force blogroll on the left sidebar. If you have linked to me and I haven't yet added you, please let me know. I try to add everybody who has me on their blogroll, but it's getting a little tough to keep up with.
I hope to be promoting a few more of you to the vaunted position of Adjutant Inspector as well, but I may need to clear out some deadwood first. If you're an Adjutant Inspector who hasn't left a comment in several weeks, drop me a note to let me know you're still around.
Also, I know that there are a lot of you out there who never leave comments for some reason. Maybe you feel too much pressure to say something witty. Maybe the hospital staff frowns on commenting. Whatever the reason, please take this as an invitation to just leave a quick comment saying hi. Maybe let me know how you found this place, or how long you've been reading, or why you don't have better things to do.
Ok, that's about it for now. Make sure you vote in the caption contest. I'll be posting the results on Saturday. And I'll be back tomorrow with an update on the Diesel for President campaign.
I came across two alarming statistics recently. I read one of them in our local newspaper and the other one on the side of a Happy Meal container, so I'm pretty sure at least the second one is true.
Statistic 1: The world's population is likely to peak at 9 billion in 2070 and then begin to decline. Statistic 2: Over 50 million Build-a-Bears have been sold since 1997.
It doesn't take someone competent in mathematics to see that, projecting from these trends, custom-designed teddy bears will outnumber people by the end of this century. If this weren't the case, would I have been able to generate this convincing chart in Excel? Hardly.
Numbers don't lie. Neither do pictures. And when numbers and pictures agree on something, you know it's serious.
The socioeconomic ramifications of this are staggering. It's a known fact that teddy bears who aren't loved as if they were a real live bear go bad faster than shows starring John Stamos. By the end of this century, we simply won't have enough misplaced treacly affection to go around. And thanks to our aging population, we'll be more dependent than ever on creepy middle-aged spinsters to love our bears for us. But there is a limit to the number of tea parties that even the creepiest of these women can have. What happens when we reach that threshold?
I'll tell you what: Build-a-Bears standing pathetically on every corner holding signs that simply read "Hug?" Marauding bands of Build-a-Bears wandering the streets, looking for hugs in all the wrong places. Build-a-Bears trolling chat rooms looking for a quick hug from an unsuspecting minor. Eventually bears desperate for affection will be breaking into our homes and smothering us to death with their fuzzy, cuddly love.
We need to take a stand before this situation gets out of control. First, every Build-a-Bear should be fitted with a shock collar that can be used to control the bear if it starts getting overly affectionate. Second, the bears need to be treated with Hug Aversion Therapy (HAT), a process of conditioning in which they are subjected to bear hugs while being forced to watch a three day marathon of According to Jim. Finally, the Build-a-Bears need to be trained in some sort of trade -- probably something that is too dangerous for humans to do, like coal mining or transporting six pounds of heroin in their bellies.
In this way we can create a servile caste of Build-a-Bears who cater to our every whim while they secretly plot to someday cast off their bonds. Except it won't be a secret, because we'll know they're doing it. Because if there's one thing I learned from watching sci-fi films, it's that the servile caste of apes/robots/Morlocks/whatever is always plotting to some day cast off the bonds of servitude. That's why everyone once in a while we'll grab a bear randomly off the street and torture him until he admits that he was plotting to cast off the bonds of servitude. Then we'll execute him and scatter his stuffing as a warning to the other bears.
It is also very important that we avoid saying things like "A world ruled by Build-a-Bears? That's absurd!" Because someone always says something like that right before the servile caste finally overthrows the bonds of servitude. Then it will be the humans' turn to be the servile caste, and we'll have to wait until the Build-a-Bears get cocky and say something like, "It is the natural order for Bears to rule Humans. Humans will never be anything but SLAVES! Mwuhahahahahahaha!"
It could take hundreds of years to achieve that level of ironic hubris, however, so our best bet is to stay on our guard and rip the stuffing out of anybody who looks like he might need a hug.
Did you enjoy this post? There's plenty more like it in my book, Antisocial Commentary. Order your copy and help me to not have to get a real job, so I can keep writing this crap. Thanks!
Humor-blogs.com just wants a hug. And to rule the world with an iron fist.
Okay, folks. Mrs. Diesel has picked her ten favorite captions. I'll post the poll results on Saturday.
A few of you posted several really good captions, which Mrs. Diesel hates because when she's picked 10 I have to tell her "Sorry, you've picked 2 by ______ and 3 by ______." Then she has to eliminate 3 of them and find 3 replacements, when she really wants to be watching reruns of Scrubs.
Anyway, if you submitted more than one really good caption, you have only yourself to blame if she didn't pick the best one, because you made her cranky.
I'll be back with a new post about some damn thing tomorrow.
The Captions
Homer: Is he pinching my ass or stealing my donut? He better not be stealing my donut. D'oh!
Determined to explore every possible promotional angle for his new book, Diesel charmed his way into an untapped market: 'Antisocial Commentary : It's in your crack.'
Homer, dumbfounded by the news that he only has, and has always only had, four fingers and toes, stares ahead. Diesel's attempt to console really doesn't help.
Only a few years ago, getting a book published was an arduous, demanding process that often dragged on for years. Back then, many aspiring authors were turned away merely because their writing didn't fit into one of a few narrowly defined "genres," or because they didn't have any "talent."
Fortunately, the Dark Ages of Publishing, during which only a few real geniuses like Herman Melville or Sidney Sheldon could get their works published, are over. Thanks to a technological revolution, getting published no longer means having to meticulously "set type," pore over "galleys," or have your writing "proofread." Today anybody can get published.
1. Authors that people have heard of. 2. Books that have a "point."
I try to tell them that guys like Melville and Sheldon didn't become famous until after they were published (although I understand that Melville was pretty well known at the local pub for his dead-on Andrew Jackson impression), but they just don't get it. That means that to get published by a "real" publisher, I have to try to write a book focusing on a single topic. If you've read any of my posts, you know how hard that would be for me, as I often deal with as many as sixteen topics within a single paragraph.
My solution was to self-publish my book through Lulu.com. I received the first published copy of my book about a week ago, and I was thoroughly impressed. Who is this spirited young author, who writes like the unholy lovechild of Melville and Sheldon? I thought. Also, the print quality is top-notch. May I be stabbed in the eye with a rusty harpoon if it isn't indistinguishable from the type of book you would find at your local Megabookseller and Coffee Shop.
At first I was concerned about the "stigma" attached to self-publishing. But then I spent some time perusing the Lulu.com catalog, and my fears were allayed. These are some of the more promising titles I found:
Do you have visions of being perfect? Have you ever been frustrated by the welter of self-help books, which are too lazy or lack crystallisation to actually help you directly? Do you want a quick fix to achieve that desired perfection? Do you always have so many questions running through your head when considering whether to buy a book or not? Then this is the book for you. In easy to understand – sort of – steps, the book guides you through the stages of a day (any day) and the issues that might impact on you and how you might best use them to your advantage. What is it about the self-help books that elevate this one to the top of the pile – even if what constitutes that pile is highly unpleasant? Well, you just don’t have to try too hard with this one and it is guaranteed effective (unless it isn’t, in which case, the guarantee is instantly null and void)!
As bad as you feel right now, at least you didn't write this.
Slane is based on a Navy Seal who was ordered to rape women to death in Vietnam. He takes up a third of the book; the other novellas concern a poet and a scientist in a think tank. Somehow, there are a few laughs as well. Seriously. Not sicko laughs, either... really.
Stop me if you've heard the one about the Navy Seal who was ordered to rape women to death in Vietnam.
…When the ingeniously devised operation to destroy the 586th computer, led by the resident with the tabel number K-817, failed, the heads could not recover for a long time. To make such an elementary error! This was inexcusable. And so, with the help of a bestial genetic engineering, a virus of the new generation was created – resident, incorruptible and cruel. Even more invulnerable and insidious than the previous versions. Without much thinking directors dubbed it K-818 – they had no strength left to devise a name for their new child. The operation, in principle, could not fail – they have envisaged all the possible and impossible attacks and withdrawals. All the errors have been taken into account and eliminated. The virus could have been called a zetta-version with pride, had he not been a simple program. Unfortunately, he had not…
Well, we're in agreement on one thing: Whatever it is, it needs to be stopped.
So obviously I'm in good company at Lulu.com. In fact, I'm wondering if anything in my book can top the sheer comic genius of cat numerology.
Anyway, thanks to everybody who took a chance on an unknown kid by pre-ordering Antisocial Commentary! I'll send you an email shortly with payment instructions, and you should get your copy/copies in a week or two. If you haven't ordered your copy yet, you can now order it directly from Lulu.com.
And maybe get a copy of that wacky death-rape book while you're at it.
Also, even if you've already ordered the book, I would be much obliged if you would go to the Lulu site and click the stars next to where it says "Rate this Item." The higher my rating, the more prominently my book will be displayed on the Lulu site. You don't even have to order it to rate it. You can also write a review if you want. Thanks!
Update 9:23 am: I just realized that you do have to create an account to rate the book. There isn't much to it though, and it's worth it to help out your old pal Diesel, right? Right.
I'll post the poll for the caption contest tomorrow. You have until tonight to get your captions in. Make me proud!
Humor-blogs.com once had an inauspicious number of kittens, but it drowned one in a burlap sack in the river and has had good luck ever since.
I've been seeing these Simpsonized pictures of bloggers everywhere, which gave me the idea for this week's caption contest. I Simpsonized myself, made a few Dieselifications, and then inserted myself into a scene with Homer. Neat, huh?
You know the drill: Post your caption in the comments by Monday night. Mrs. Diesel will pick her 10 favorites (if she's not "busy" like last time), and I'll post them in a poll for your voting pleasure on Tuesday.
And remember, today is the last day to pre-order your signed copy of my book, Antisocial Commentary at a big discount. Today it's $9.95 with FREE shipping. Tomorrow it's $11.95 + shipping. Do the math. Order it now!
UPDATE 8/11: I'm going to be gone all day today, so it looks like I won't be ordering the pre-ordered books until Monday. That means you have one more chance to get your orders in. Order it by Sunday night and I can still get you a discounted, signed copy. JUST DO IT.
Keep the captions coming. I'll be back with a fresh post on Monday.
Even humor-blogs.com is getting sick of my shameless pandering.
Thanks to Joel from Crummy Church Signs for filling in for me at the Humor-Blogs.com review site. I think we can all agree that he did a better job than I've been doing and was much less pissy about it than I am. If you want to be a guest review editor, let me know and maybe we can work something out. The only qualifications are a rudimentary grasp of the English language and a fondness for crushing people's dreams.
Also, thanks to Crazy Aunt Beatrice (aka Snuppy) from Central Snark, for ordering no fewer than FIVE copies of my book, as well as something like 14 t-shirts from the Mattress Police store at last count. She must have a lot of boobs to need that many shirts, but I've been forbidden to post any more boob pics until our plumbing is complete.
I'll be back tomorrow with perhaps the best caption contest photo yet. I say "perhaps" because I have no idea at this point what it will be.
And as you would know if you ever listened to me, tomorrow is the last day to pre-order a signed, discounted copy of my book, Antisocial Commentary. Not ordering it could be the biggest mistake you ever make. I say "could be" because I have no idea at this point what other mistakes you are likely to make.
See you tomorrow!
Update 1:04 PM: My NBFF, Cathouse Teri, has ordered six copies of my book, presumably because she has a LOT of end tables with one short leg.
I think they've figured out that I'm one of those people who just browses through books for an hour, leaves them on the wrong shelf, and then walks out without buying anything. How else can you explain the fact that the alarm goes off every time I enter the store?
I've gotten into the habit of holding up my hands and shouting "It's just me!" whenever I walk into the store, which is usually pretty effective at negating suspicions. Except, of course, on those rare occasions when the alarm doesn't go off for some reason, in which case it has precisely the opposite effect. Funny how a preemptive declaration of harmlessness freaks people right out.
One time I carried a book from Barnes and Noble into Starbucks next door, picked up a coffee, then brought the book back into the store, at which point the alarm went off. An employee shot me an accusatory look. I sheepishly held up the book, demonstrating my willingness to cooperate.
"You can't take books out of the store," she said.
"Apparently I can take books out of the store," I replied. "What I can't do, at least without getting a lot of unwanted attention, is to bring books back into the store."
She clearly wanted to punish me in some way, but couldn't settle on her next course of action.
"Do you... want me to take the book back into Starbucks?" I said. "I promise not to bring it back into the store this time."
She grumbled something and walked off. You just can't satisfy some people.
I don't know how Barnes and Noble makes any money. Actually, I have my suspicions. I think they make all their money on those "bargain items" at the front of the store. You know the stuff I'm talking about: those oversized books and boxed "kits" that promise to teach you everything you need to know to get started with Feng Shui or drawing manga characters or mastering the art of the tarot.
I find these displays fascinating, because they're like a smörgåsbord* of lifestyle options. I like how they are always marked down from $19.95 to $14.95 or something. I imagine a young woman walking out of the store with her girlfriend, clutching one of those boxes.
Woman 1: I thought you were going to convert to Buddhism.
Woman 2: I was, but Calligraphy was on sale.
Barnes and Noble has something for everybody, including people who hate to read. The last time I was there I saw an audio book of Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines. Now that's niche marketing. It's the book for people who want to hear someone read a movie to them.
Guy 1: You know what I really loved about Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines?
Guy 2: The hot chick terminator?
Guy 1: No...
Guy 2: Arnold Schwarzenegger kicking ass?
Guy 1: No...
Guy 2: The awesome effects?
Guy 1: No...
Guy 2: The ever perky Claire Daines, in her best role since My So-Called Life?
Guy 1: No...
Guy 2: Okay, I give up. What did you love about Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines?
Guy 1: The lyrical dialogue and rich thematic subtext. It's too bad I never learned how to read.
Guy 2: Ooh, have I got a book for you!
Every time I go to Barnes and Noble I have to spend half an hour browsing through the "humor" section. As a humor writer, this is therapeutic for me. Just when I start to feel a little guilty about shamelessly hawking my own book in every one of my posts, I pick up a book that is made up of 80 pages of "lessons" gleaned from Napoleon Dynamite -- one per page. The book was priced at $9.95, even though it looked like it had been written over a long weekend by a hungover middle schooler. Most of the books in the "humor" section are so painfully unfunny that they made me want to go to the literature section to take in a few pages of The Brothers Karamazov just to lighten my mood a bit. Not that there aren't any funny books there -- This book made me chuckle, and the Deep Thoughts collections are always good for some laughs. And of course there are books by the old pros, like Dave Barry and Woody Allen. But generally speaking, if you want to see something funny, you're better off browsing through some of the books they're trying to pawn off as "serious."
Stumble it!
Digg it!
Ok, folks. Mrs. Diesel has picked her favorites, and now it's up to you to pick the winner. There were over 115 entries this time, so there was some very stiff competition.
Hillary Clinton
Mike Huckabee
Barack Obama
John Edwards
Meanwhile, there is confusion at the highest levels regarding how many levels there are, and how one can know what level one is on when the the elevator buttons have been replaced with Mentos. Rumors of nude thumb wrestling among the female staffers are rampant, and have not been nearly as helpful as expected in raising morale.
To make matters worse, the organization's tax exempt status has recently come under fire from the I.R.S. Highly-placed sources indicate that the government is leaning toward classifying "Diesel in 2020" as either an illegal money laundering operation or a "dangerous cult." Diesel could not be reached for comment, but he is reported to be hoping for the latter.
I'll tell you what: Build-a-Bears standing pathetically on every corner holding signs that simply read "Hug?" Marauding bands of Build-a-Bears wandering the streets, looking for hugs in all the wrong places. Build-a-Bears trolling chat rooms looking for a quick hug from an unsuspecting minor. Eventually bears desperate for affection will be breaking into our homes and smothering us to death with their fuzzy, cuddly love.
In this way we can create a servile caste of Build-a-Bears who cater to our every whim while they secretly plot to someday cast off their bonds. Except it won't be a secret, because we'll know they're doing it. Because if there's one thing I learned from watching sci-fi films, it's that the servile caste of apes/robots/
Okay, folks. Mrs. Diesel has picked her ten favorite captions. I'll post the poll results on Saturday.
I've gotten into the habit of holding up my hands and shouting "It's just me!" whenever I walk into the store, which is usually pretty effective at negating suspicions. Except, of course, on those rare occasions when the alarm 
Barnes and Noble has something for everybody, including people who hate to read. The last time I was there I saw an audio book of 
Every time I go to Barnes and Noble I have to spend half an hour browsing through the "humor" section. As a humor writer, this is therapeutic for me. Just when I start to feel a little guilty about shamelessly hawking