Category Archives: writing

Reform, it’s not what you think

It was a cold day and the wind was blowing. The Blathering Idiot and his friend, Gary, were walking to take place in a protest against some change they knew little about but felt had to be protest because somebody on the radio had told them so.

The Blathering Idiot turned to his friend and said, “You know, Gary, the biggest problem with reform is that it requires you to think.”

Gary paused for a minute, then said, “I hadn’t thought about that.”

BlatheringIdiot_Reform

"You know, Gary, the biggest problem with reform is that it requries you to think."

They stopped and looked at each other. First one minute passed. Then another, and another, each looking at the other.

“I think we’ve discovered something profound,” Gary said.

Finally, they decided to turn around and go back home, where at least they could think in a warm place.

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So, you want to be a writer? Watch and learn

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The Job Application

A new year had begun, and the blathering idiot resolved to find a job.

Help Wanted sign

The blathering idiot applies for a job

He saw a Help Wanted sign in the window of a building and went inside to apply.

He sat at the table with the form and did his best to fill it out. The first line said: Name.

He wrote: I have one.

Sex.

He wrote: Yes

Place of birth.

He wrote: A hospital, though I don’t remember the exact event. This is what I have been told.

Put your hometown here:

It won’t fit.

References:

Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary, Gregg’s Reference Manual, Chicago Manual of Style.

What attracted you to this position?

The sign in the window.

Salary expectations:

To get paid regularly.

What sort of challenges are you looking for?

I am not looking for challenges. I am looking for a job.

When he was finished, the blathering idiot looked over the questionnaire one last time. There was one question he had skipped, and he still did not have an answer for it. He looked at it again, first staring at it and then looking away. He felt he should write something, but what?

The blathering idiot was about to give up and return the form incomplete, when it struck him what he should write. He had seen this exact wording on similar pages in other documents. He had never fully understood what it meant until now.

The question was: Use the blank side of this form to provide any additional information.

To which the blathering idiot wrote: This side intentionally left blank.

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A flightless mind in a myopic world

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/07/books/07huck.html?_r=1&nl=books&emc=booksupdateemb5

January 6, 2011

Light Out, Huck, They Still Want to Sivilize You

By MICHIKO KAKUTANI

“All modern American literature,” Ernest Hemingway once wrote, “comes from one book by MarkTwain called ‘Huckleberry Finn.’ ”

Being an iconic classic, however, hasn’t protected “Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” from being banned, bowdlerized and bleeped. It hasn’t protected the novel from being cleaned up, updated and “improved.”

A new effort to sanitize “Huckleberry Finn” comes from Alan Gribben, a professor of English at Auburn University, at Montgomery, Ala., who has produced a new edition of Twain’s novel that replaces the word “nigger” with “slave.” Nigger, which appears in the book more than 200 times, was a common racial epithet in the antebellum South, used by Twain as part of his characters’ vernacular speech and as a reflection of mid-19th-century social attitudes along the Mississippi River.

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Filed under Huckleberry Finn, insanity, Mark Twain, Perils of writing, publishers, Random Access Thoughts, story, words, writing

The All-American Chef

For Christmas, the blathering idiot received a BBQ mitt and a cooking apron. Across the front of the apron, above three embroidered stars was the phrase, also embroidered and in all capital letters: ALL AMERICAN CHEF.

The blathering idiot was happy to receive such a gift. He prided himself on his outdoor grilling skills, and after all an All American Chef should have all-American tools to help him create his all-American dishes. He tried on the mitt: it fit great with plenty of room. The apron was adjustable and the red color pleasantly suited him.

Though the weather was a winter cool, he decided to grill out. What better way to show off that he was an ALL AMERICAN CHEF? He pulled out his grill, poured in the charcoal briquettes, and was ready to start the fire.

All American Mitt and apron made in China

All American mitt and apron made in China

But before he started, the blathering idiot wanted to make sure he took good care of this apron and mitt, so he turned over the tag to see how to care for these new tools. After all, a good chef always takes care of his tools. And in all caps, he read that his ALL AMERICAN CHEF mitt and apron had been MADE IN CHINA.

The blathering idiot didn’t feel so ALL AMERICAN any more.

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The presentation

The blathering idiot went to the lingerie store to buy his girlfriend a $50 bra. She had given exact instructions as to what she wanted and where to get it.

The blathering idiot had never been in a lingerie store before. But even before he went, he thought $50 was a little much for a bra. Her physical structures were nice, but not stellar. Neither were his own, and he wouldn’t think of spending $50 to support his.

Still it was his girlfriend and it was the season for presents, so he entered the lingerie store and approached the saleswoman to ask where he could find this “accoutrement.” He had learned that word recently and this was his first chance to use it, and for some reason it seemed to fit.

As she led him to the display, she asked if he might be interested in any of the shop’s specials.
The blathering idiot thought they might be offering some eggnog or Christmas cookies, so he said yes.

She smiled and then explained that their $75 undergarment was on sale for $65 and their $100 undergarment was on sale for $80.

First, she took him to the $50 bra, which looked much like the bras he had glimpsed most of his life, from his mother to his girlfriend, and a few other women in between, especially the one time in high school when his friends had pulled off his underwear, pulled it down over his head, and then shoved him into the girl’s locker room.

“As you can see,” the sales lady said, “there is nothing about this undergarment that stands out from the rest. It is a good one, but for that special woman in your life, I’m sure you want better. A little something that will grab her and your attentions.”

She then winked at him and showed him the $75 bra. It was smaller than the $50 one and had some areas of exposure he had never considered in a bra.

Then, without saying a word, she showed him the $100 bra. They were just two small cups that appeared barely big enough to fit over the tips of his girlfriend’s structures.

When he asked about the loss of material, she said it was all about presentation. “The less material, the more presentation, the more sizzle. Think how proud your girlfriend will be to wear this $100 undergarment, and that pride will show, causing her to walk taller, stand straighter, giving her all the support she will ever need.” She smiled at him. “After all, presentation is everything.”

The blathering idiot was sold. He bought the $100 undergarment on sale for $80, had it wrapped, and couldn’t wait to see his girlfriend’s presentation.

When she unwrapped the undergarment, she didn’t know what to think. Or, rather, she did, but kept her first thoughts to herself. She asked the blathering idiot about it, trying in the nicest way to figure out where he’d screwed up. He talked about sizzle and carriage and presentation, and with that undergarment on, she would walk tall and walk proud.

The blathering idiot’s girlfriend didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or be angry. All three emotions played across her face.

The blathering idiot took it to be gratitude beyond words.

Shortly thereafter, he walked home with the two small pieces of the undergarment fitted over his eyes. She told him he could only remove them once he got home. Otherwise, he wouldn’t make the right presentation.

He walked proudly into the night.

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One size fits

The blathering idiot bought a ball cap at the store. It had the symbol and colors of his favorite team. He was proud of the cap and what it stood for. He felt he was part of something larger than himself.
Then he took the cap off and looked under the lip and saw a tag that read: One Size fits most.

The blathering idiot was upset. He had thought for sure that he had bought the deluxe model of this type of cap. It had cost him enough, and it even said “Limited Deluxe Edition” on another tag under the lip.

There was only one thing the blathering idiot could do: He immediately went to that store and demanded that they fix his purchase.

When ask what the problem was, the blathering idiot stammered: “The cap. It doesn’t fit all.”
The clerk, thinking the blathering idiot meant “at all,” asked him to try it on. The cap fit perfectly.
The blathering idiot immediately jumped to his feet, knocking the hat off.

“I am not in the all,” he said, and then he demanded to see the store manager.

Eventually, when the store manager came out to see him, the blathering idiot was clearly irritated. He shoved the tag up almost into the manager’s nose.

“This tag,” the blathering idiot said, “says one size fits most. It should say one size fits all.”

“But it won’t fit all,” the manager said. Then he asked, “Does it fit you?”

“That’s not the point. I paid for a one-size-fits-all hat of my favorite team, and instead I get a one-size-fit-most hat.”

After trying a few more times to convince the blathering idiot that as long as the hat fit, there shouldn’t be a problem, the manager reluctantly refunded the blathering idiot’s money.

As he left the store, the blathering idiot muttered, “How can I belong to something larger than myself when nothing is no longer one-size-fits all? What’s this world coming to?”

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A beautiful day

The blathering idiot had heard the weather forecast before he went to bed. He set his alarm to rise before the sun.

The next day, he arose, dressed in his best clothes, and went outside to run up and down the streets until he came to the edge of town. His calves hurt. He was not used to running in his good boots, but if he didn’t hurry, he would not make it in time.

The blathering idiot ran into the country until he came to a field at the bottom of the east ridge. He crossed the fence and raced, as fast and as hard as he could, up the ridge until he reached the top. The sun was already peaking above the ridge top. In the town below, people would be rising, stretching, yawning, and going to their windows to see the sunrise. As it rose more, he approached it and then, without saying anything, tried kicking it like a ball.

The sun continued rising. The blathering idiot continued kicking at it. He kicked more and more and more until the sun was up over his head like a bright balloon on its way to the heavens. He couldn’t understand. He was sure he had heard correctly. The weather forecaster had said “It will be unseasonably warm with a slight breeze, and sunshine from dawn to dusk. It will be a great day for Christmas shopping and a beautiful day to boot.”

The blathering idiot’s calves sized up and he fell down.

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The trunk

The blathering idiot went to the zoo to see the elephant’s trunk. He got so close, the elephant dropped a load of hay and elephant snot on him.

The blathering idiot then went home, took a shower, and pulled out his trunk to get some fresh clothes to wear. He did not select his swimming trunks.

He then gathered up his elephant-snot encrusted clothes and put them in the trunk of his car to take to the Laundromat. He did not want to wash these clothes at home.

While watching his clothes spin round and round, the blathering idiot tried to figure out why the elephant’s trunk was in the front, his car’s truck was in the back, and his clothes trunk was usually in the closet.

He pondered this philosophical point as he drove home, almost not noticing the car in the wrong lane headed toward him. At the last moment, he swerved out of the way, but in doing so ran into the trunk of a tree, causing his air bag to inflate, keeping the trunk of his body from hitting the steering wheel. However, a large branch of the tree broke off, severing an electrical trunk line, which fell across the trunk line of a nearby railroad track, truncating service for most of a day.

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Giving 110 Percent

The blathering idiot attended a seminar where the presenter, a microphone clipped over his ear and an overabundance of enthusiasm clipped onto his voice, told the audience that the key to success in work, in financial success, in love, in all of life was to give not 50 percent, not 75, not even 100, but “110 percent.”

After the all-day workshop, the blathering idiot returned home to find a pile of bills waiting for him. He opened them and totaled how much he owed for the minimum monthly payments, and it was 130 percent of what he earned. He smiled, closed his eyes, and waited for success to come.

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