“Don’t get it right, just get it written.” —James Thurber
And if you don’t know who James Thurber is, I suggest starting here: The Thurber House.
Monthly Archives: March 2011
Writing Quote for the Day
Filed under advice, humor, James Thurber, words, writer, writing, writing tip
Humor and the art of capitalization
In this world of hi-tech, I have noticed that many who text message and email, have forgotten the “art” of capitalization. Those of you who fall into this world, please take note of the following statement.
I cannot stress enough that capitalization is important.
Capitalization is the difference between…
… helping your Uncle Jack off a horse.
or
… helping your uncle jack off a horse.
End of lesson
Filed under absurdity, capitalization, humor, words, writing, writing tip
The Blathering Idiot and the Call of Nature
The blathering idiot and his girl friend, Zelda, decided that the first day of Spring was the perfect time to go out into Nature, to experience the Wilds. Except, it was not as easy as either one of them would like. As the blathering idiot found out, Zelda was allergic to rag weed, tree pollen, broad-leaf grasses, and short-leafed flowers just to name a few of the offending items. The blathering idiot, too, was finding he had allergies to many wild animals with fur or feathers or scales, as well as a strong allergic reaction to poison ivy.
They had both also heard of the smog alert creeping up even into the mountains, the need for more sunscreen due to increased global warming, and the invasion of fire ants and even killer African Bees.
At first, the blathering idiot didn’t know what to do. And after a while, it was beginning to look more and more like the trip into Mother Nature wasn’t going to happen. Then the blathering idiot had an idea. It took him a while to fashion on the pieces of the idea into one final whole, but when he was done, both he and Zelda agreed that it was the only way they could both get out into Nature.
"Honey, isn't Nature wonderful?! We really should get outside more often."
His only regret was that he drank too much water before going out into Nature and he hadn’t put a convenience zipper in the front of his.
The blathering idiot, taxes, and heaven
The blathering idiot was sitting at the kitchen table doing his taxes, when in a fit of confusion and boredom at the inane complexity of a form, he fell asleep.
When he woke up, he was in heaven. He knew this was the case because the disciple Matthew greeted him. The blathering idiot sat up and looked around. Heaven was not like anything he imaged. The primary thing that struck him about it was how rundown it appeared. The pearly gates looked rusty and slightly out of plumb. They didn’t close tightly. Some things that looked like trash tumbled from heavenly prominence to heavenly prominence, making slight rustling sounds like empty plastic shopping bags. Even the angels’ wings looked sooty and their gowns looked frayed and not quite as dazzling as whitest of whites sound be. One angel was even wearing a frayed t-shirt that read “Angels are people too.” Infrastructure neglect was everywhere.
Matthew had a sad and besmirched look on his face. “We cannot get God to pay attention to heaven. He says he is constantly fighting an endless war with Satan, and sending hurricanes to New Orleans and earthquakes to Haiti and such to punish people for their wicked ways, even if they are already long dead. He says he has no time to keep up heaven. But we have a plan and it involves you.”
The blathering idiot listened to the plan. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but if the blathering idiot succeeded, he could stay in heaven if he wanted.
“And if I don’t succeed?” the blathering idiot asked.
Matthew, the former tax collector, frowned, and then slowly shook his head.
The blathering idiot practiced over and over what he was going to say, and when he was ready, Matthew and some angels, including the one with the t-shirt, dressed him in the most scary costume they could think of, and then they sent him to see God.
"Well, Almighty, our records still show you owe back taxes for several million years."
Shortly after that, or so it felt like, the blathering idiot woke up, an IRS form stuck to the side of his face.
Once he removed it, he glanced around. The world looked like he was back exactly where he had always been, back where he was before his trip to heaven. The blathering idiot didn’t know if that was good or bad, if that meant he had succeeded or not. He once again read over the form that had been stuck to his cheek, and he continued to wonder.
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