Dead Body Etiquette

Warning:  This article contains references to dead bodies.  If you are squeamish or easily offended, I suggest you keep reading.   It will be like, therapeutic.

With Christmas only a couple days away, many people are experiencing a great deal of stress and anxiety, wondering what to do if they find a dead body.   Not to worry, I've compiled a list of do’s and don’ts which are conveniently interchangeable depending on your point of view, moral turpitude and sense of humor.

Please note however, that this only applies to FINDING a dead body, not CREATING one (murder).  Also, the following is only applicable to finding a stranger’s dead body… finding a dead relative or friend is just traumatic so let’s not even go there.

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So we've all been through it… it’s a sunny afternoon and your phone rings.   It’s your friend and before you even have a chance to say hello, they blurt out, “Hey, do you want to go see a dead body?”   Of course you do, because you’re only human and that means that you exhibit a natural curiosity when it comes to life, death and the beautiful and mysterious cycle of life.   Plus, you may be a bit of a creep and doing morbid shit like that is right up your alley because you’re so desensitized from watching “The Walking Dead” and all those George Romero zombie movies (Day of the Dead, Dawn of the Dead, Morning Coffee Break of the Dead, Afternoon Tea Time of the Dead, etc.)  So you’re all set for the adventure of going to look at a body.  But what if you’re the one that finds the body in the first place?  What are you going to do?  

1.       Even if you’re 100% sure that the body is in fact dead, you should always poke it with a stick, just to make sure. 

2.      If there isn’t a stick around, you should nudge the body with your foot a couple times.  After making certain it’s really a dead body and not just some passed out drunk…

3.      Call you friends and before they even say hello, blurt out, “Hey, you want to go see a dead body?” 

4.      Do not take a selfie with the body.  

5.      Take a moment before your creepy friends arrive to ponder the beautiful and mysterious cycle of life.  Chase away any raccoons that may be in a scavenging mood.

6.      Do not move the body, even to arrange it in comical looking poses.   Life isn't like “Weekend at Bernie’s.”

7.      Contact the authorities

8.      When the authorities arrive, put all your time watching Crime Dramas like CSI, NCIS, Criminal Minds, Friends, etc. to work by immediately telling the cop, “Based on lividity, I estimate the time of death at 12 pm yesterday.”  When the cop questions how you would know that, say, “I poked it with a stick.” 

9.      Before the reporters arrive, get presentable for the camera.   If you are female:  Wear a bathrobe and have a lit cigarette in your hand, messily applied makeup and messy hair.  Try to use phrases like “Lawd” and “It was just lyin’ there!  All dead!”
If you are a male:  Take off your shirt.   Speak quickly and use the word “uh” in place of commas. 

      When strangers ask you if you are OK (adjusting to the trauma of finding a dead body) just nod your head a lot and mumble, “Lawd” and “uh”.   Chances are they will drape a blanket over your shoulders.   Hey, free blanket.

No matter what happens, once the experience is over you’ll no doubt experience regret, some form of PTSD or “Shit, I should have checked to see if there was any money in his pockets!”    No matter what, when you tell this story (and you will tell this story to everyone you meet for the rest of your life) always try to make yourself out to be a hero.   Don’t forget to mention how you poked it with a stick.   The response you will receive will invariably be, “Awwwww, no way!!!  That is so gross!!!!”  Followed by, “Cool.”

Merry Christmas

Dealing with Unemployment - Part 2

Many people harbor serious misconceptions about what it’s like to be unemployed.   They assume that I sleep most of the day and during my rare waking hours I am wearing sweat pants, eating Cheetos and watching daytime television.   Because of these ludicrous suppositions, I intend to set the record straight and share my daily schedule:

10:30 am: Get up at the crack of dawn-ish and stare out the window while having a good scratch (scalp, belly, crotch and finally buttocks).

10:45am: Eat a bowl of cereal (with or without milk, depending on availability) on the couch, watching “The View.”

11:30am:  Quick Nap.

1:00pm:  Take the dog for a walk (allow the dog to follow me to the refrigerator while I stare at available lunch options).

1:00pm:  Lunch.  (Cheetos and “Young and the Restless”)

2:00pm:  Exercise (Surfing the net, eating candies and laughing at YouTube videos of cats)

3:00pm:  Quick Nap until bedtime.

HA HA, just kidding.   Those who know me have all expressed their concerns vis a vis, me going crazy without a job.   For starters, the first couple months were just fine because I was doing a lot of writing and work around the house.  I was enjoying myself so much and thought, “Gee, I could get used to retirement!” but then I suffered what they call a “Heart Event” which is the same as a “Heart Attack” but the word “event” makes it sounds a lot less serious, like my heart had a concert or held a fundraiser.    

So after my “Heart Event – a black tie affair with musical guests, Black Sabbath!”  I started devoting my days to “rehabilitation”.   The rehab began with a serious of don’ts: No Smoking, no carbohydrates, no caffeine, no fat, no sugar, no fun and one big Do:  Exercise all the fucking time.  So 5 times a week, I spend a few hours running on the treadmill, riding the stationary bike and lifting weights so if I don’t have another “Heart Event – free admission with a donation to the food bank!” I should be sufficiently in shape to participate in the next Iron Man, Spartan Challenge, Bierkebeiner or just plain drop dead from exhaustion.  My goal is for people to peer into the casket and say, “Sure he’s dead, but he looks GREAT!” 

Anyway, since it’s been 5 months since my “Heart Event – BYOB”, I will admit that I am going a little bit stir crazy and am starting to think about going back to work.   In order to mentally prepare myself for the rigors of corporate life, I have started working on “projects”.   What I do is, I write up a long report about the inefficiencies of… something… and then I do up a Power Point Presentation and a spreadsheet complete with graphs and pie charts.   Then I email that to people I know and then they reply with “WTF?  Stop sending me this crap!”  This entire process exactly replicates my former work life. 

When I’m not wasting my time, working on reports, I will gather up all my old stuffed animals and arrange them around the dining room table for “meetings”.   I prop them all up in positions that make it look like they are “really serious”, “getting to the bottom of things” and “making positive changes” while I sit at the far end of the table and text people with my iPhone on my lap.   After the meeting, I walk away feeling scolded, overwhelmed, confused and fed up and go back to my desk to play solitaire and grumble under my breath.

So basically, I’m ready for action!   I can start anytime and I require minimal training, except by minimal, I mean “extensive” and by training, I mean “shown 12 times”.  You can reach me through this blog, by email or through one of my colleagues, either Mr. Fuzzy Pants the stuffed cow vice president of cud chewing or Mrs. Teddy Bear, CEO.

Frank L Kress in 2014 - Hope and Change and Stuff you can really believe in!!!

There were moments where I used to daydream at work and being in middle management, sometimes I used to wonder what would happen if every hourly worker in the company just stood up and walked out.   I imagined the chaos, the complete shutdown of productivity, the customers suddenly left hanging and ignored, the gears in the great cogs coming to a shuddering halt and I imagined a great silent void, as if all the air had been sucked out of a great cathedral, only to be replaced by a rising tide of cacophonous thunder: the panicked wailings and moanings of upper management as they tried to figure out how to work a cash register or drive a forklift or even place a want ad to replace their vanished workers.   During those blissful daydreams, I would have a smile on my face because I would then imagine the complete opposite.  What if one day all the executives in the company were to suddenly get up and walk out? 

Let’s be realistic, no company could survive without their top leaders… but what if one company tried, just for a year, to go executive free?   That would mean that every person who held a position above that of department manager (directors, senior directors, vice presidents, senior vice presidents, etc.) would take 12 months off.   I used to work at a pretty big company so for that year, we would start off with some salary and bonus savings.  I’m taking a guess here, but I would say the overall savings would be somewhere around 20 million dollars (conservatively).  That’s a pretty good way to start things off… the Board may approve of that idea.   

Further savings would be found in no travel allowances for important meetings.   So flights, hotels, meals, corporate accommodations (for those who live someone other than the city where they work) would also reduce a big chunk of change.  Apparently things like Skype, Webex, email and the telephone are completely insufficient for executive types, so once again Board of Directors, you’re very welcome, I just made the company wide P&L look a lot slimmer.

But enough about money, what other changes would their absence cause?   Employee morale would shoot through the roof, but never mind that, that one’s a given.   Here’s the gritty truth: the company would not grow or implement new strategies or adopt any improvements for one calendar year.   The I.T department, under their manager, would just be directed to maintain the current systems… just keep the lights on, make sure the systems don’t crash, no new projects to work on, just make sure that everything is working smoothly.  No outside contractors would be needed to develop software, no training programs to implement, nothing like that.  I know that outside contractors cost quite a bit, so that would maybe make up some of the short term savings that all those new programs were supposed to generate.  So, in short, no growth, no sweeping changes, just employees doing their jobs, managers managing them, customers buying stuff… Boring!   

I know, too ridiculous to even imagine…

But this article isn’t about work or corporations or high plaid executives… it’s about politics, or, to be more precise, politicians.   It was spawned by the local municipal candidate who plonked a sign down on the front lawn because he wants to be a city counselor.   My question for him (and for every other politician in the world) is why do you want to be a politician?    For the most part, it’s the same reason why people want to be vice presidents of big companies… they want money and power and generally, they want to boss other people around.  They will all claim that they want to serve their fellow man, make the world a better place, etc.   They all say it so much that they honestly believe it themselves, but the truth is, they just want to be important.  Do you remember that nerd from high school that ran in the student election… that twerp wants to rule over you.   Oh sure, he may have good intentions too… he really does believe that he can make the world a better place, but in the process of doing that, he gets to be your boss, to make the decisions, to be… well, a Somebody instead of just a normal guy.   The delusion that they are somehow better equipped and smarter than regular people is a bit of a farce really…

Before you take the first four paragraphs out of context and think I’m some kind of communist, I’m not. Remember, socialism isn’t about removing all those high paid executives; it’s about creating a whole lot more of them and just calling them a different name, rebranding them as government bureaucrats.  Before you think I hate Socialism or Liberalism, well, I guess I do… but I also hate Conservatives.   I suppose I hate any so-called distinctions between political parties, because fundamentally, they are so much alike.  I’m a political atheist after all.  Has Obama (a Democrat) been any different from Bush (a Republican)?   I mean fundamentally, what has changed?   

So the daydream I spoke about in the first four paragraphs expanded from company executives to the government.    What would happen if they just took a year off?   I’m not talking about the police or the fire departments; I mean politicians… what would happen if they just took a yearlong (unpaid) vacation?   No new laws, no lobbying, no wars being declared, no bombs dropped… would it really be so bad to go a year without any of that?  

Anyway, the point of all this is to let you know that next year, I’m running for office and I appreciate your support. (insert evil laugh here).

 

 

Winter is coming you wussies...

I don’t want to cause any undue alarm, but everyone north of the 49^th parallel should be aware that summer is over.   Any moment now, it will officially be autumn and a few days after that, winter will be upon us.      Of  course this really only applies to Alberta, since according to people in Southern Ontario, it will be hot and sunny until sometime in February, when they will get a day or two of rain, then it will be Springtime again.

I for one am kind of relieved that summer is over.   The main reason is that I’m tired of not wearing a jacket and I need a place to keep my stuff when I venture away from my house.   Women, you will have no idea what I’m talking about because you get to carry a purse and guys, if you don’t agree with me, you’re obviously a douche bag that carries a briefcase or one of those awful man purses.  I won’t argue and I certainly don’t wish you any harm aside from someone giving you a violent beating with your own douche luggage.   

Wallet, keys, phone… those are the big three items and you can’t jam them into your pant pockets unless your wish is to appear abnormally lumpy around the hips and buttocks.  But aside from the big three, there’s also gum or mints… those get squishy in pant pockets.   For people who smoke, they have to contend with cigarette packs and a lighter.   In my case, I have to carry pepper spray because I have “girlish good looks” and as a result I am in constant danger of being kidnapped and sold to wealthy men from oil producing countries.  

Most of you will think that not having a jacket to carry stuff is a minor inconvenience and the choice between carrying your stuff around and suffering through minus 8 million degree winters is a no brainer.  Maybe evolution will someday give males much larger hands to carry their wallets, keys, phones and anti-kidnapping mace devices.   Perhaps.

The alternative is to become a “Snowbird”, which, as far as I can tell, is a type of bird that is made out of snow.  I’m not sure how that would solve anything but another way to escape winter is to travel down to Arizona, California, New Mexico or some other desert wasteland to avoid having to deal with a little chilly weather.   If you detect more than a hint of disdain in my tone for those people who spent their winters in warmer climes, then I applaud your astuteness.   First of all, it displays a lack of character to abandon hearth and home here in the north to spend a few months relaxing in the sun, playing golf, fishing and drinking margaritas.    Plus, it’s not fair; because that means you have more money than me.  Boo on you.

Also keep in mind that while we have to deal with cold and snow, those warm southern states have poisonous snakes, earthquakes, tornados, wildfires, hurricanes and people with alarmingly deep tans.   Scientists explain these phenomena as “Karma.”  

So instead of bitching and moaning (or travelling to the U.S), just suck it up, wear a scarf and a jacket with pockets big enough to carry your stuff.   Besides, in 9 short months, it will be spring again.

An Open Letter to My Lawn

Dear Lawn,

I know that we’ve had some issues in the past and I realize that an open letter may not be the best way to reach out to you.  You may be upset that I’m airing our grievances to the world as opposed to how we’ve traditionally dealt with things (you lying there silently, me cursing at you from behind the lawnmower.)  Obviously we can’t continue on like this, our relationship simply won’t last if things don’t change.

Maybe I’ve upset you by not paying enough attention to you or by allowing my dog to consistently poop on you.   But let’s be fair here, you haven’t exactly been holding up your end either.   You’re patchy, weedy and brown.   There, I said it.  It’s out in the open now. 

I’ve tried all the things that I’m supposed to do: water, fertilizer, seeding, regular mowing and yet you lay there, not putting any effort in.   In fact, whenever I try to make things work, your response as of late is to burst out in dandelions, like a pubescent14 year old sprouting new zits every day.

You aren’t lush, you aren’t green or verdant or bursting with health or vitality.  You accept the gift of new grass seed and burp back weeds.   You take all the water and respond with brown patches.  You don’t deserve me. I didn’t want it to come to this, but yes, my eyes have strayed.   Instead of gazing at you with love and adoration, I find myself leering at gravel or wood chips or concrete.   You simply aren’t the lawn that I fell in love with.

I know I shouldn’t compare us with other couples, but when I see my neighbors happily mowing, leaving fresh lawn clippings in their wake (instead of clouds of dust and bits of dandelion leaves) I feel ashamed of you and don’t want to be seen with you anymore.  I’m tired of people thinking that I’m with you only because of your great personality.

There is a movement going on that suggests that we do away with lawns altogether and replace them with vegetable gardens.   “Grow food, not lawns” is their motto.  I think this is a laudable idea but unfortunately for me, if I can’t grow a simple stem of grass, I’m not going to have much luck growing something that people can actually eat.   My potatoes would probably come out looking and tasting like a lump of coal.     My carrots would probably resemble straw and as for cucumbers and zucchini, I’m not confident enough as a man to grow unfavorable vegetable comparisons.

So lawn, you browning, dandelion spewing harlot, this is your last chance.  Either you start to grow properly or I will be forced (and believe me, I hate to do this) to write yet another firm letter, stamp my feet in futility and look longingly at the neighbor’s patch of perfect green and spin murderous fantasies borne of jealousy.  It doesn’t help things when my neighbor frowns in mock sympathy and says things like, “Got a few weeds there huh?”  Gentleman that I am, I never say anything against your honor and it’s for your sake that I fling the stray cat poop over onto his lawn.  I do that for you.   In fact, I do it all for you.   I can’t keep ignoring those flirty looks from the gravel.

 

My new book is out!

Hi!

My new book is a collection of short stories entitled, originally enough, “Twelve Stories”.   I’d like to give you an impassioned speech on why you should buy this VERY LOW PRICED book, but the fact is, you all should buy it because I’m now officially a starving artist.  Sure I could go have a snack or order a pizza, but I suffer for my art!!!!   So anyway, please buy my book.  (It’s only $4.95!!!!)

Here’s the link!

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CQBSCPQ

 

And here’s the link so you can read it on any smartphone, tablet, computer or e-reader.   Basically, if you’re reading this, you can read my book, no excuses… so yeah, please buy it. J

 

http://www.amazon.com/gp/feature.html?ie=UTF8&docId=1000493771

 

The Call of the Wild

Lately, my sleep has been disturbed. Living in the city, you can expect to face the usual nocturnal noises, like traffic, sirens and annoying teenagers yelling “WOOOOO!” when they’re drunk on Bacardi Breezers.   To be fair, I don’t know if that’s what they’re drinking, but I like to imagine some lame beverage because I hate those kids.   But what I don’t expect to hear at night are love crazed coyotes making dirty love in the field behind my house.

In case your experience with coyotes is limited to the Bugs Bunny and Tweety Show, real life coyotes do not have access to the Acme mail order catalogue.  Quite frankly, it would be terrifying if they did, because instead of ordering rocket powered jet packs or huge anvils, they would no doubt be ordering kinky bondage gear from some disreputable adult website.  I know this because every single night (between 1:00 am and 5:00 am) the coyotes take time off from scratching their fleas to engage in VERY LOUD Caligula style orgies.  Yelping, barking, howling, screeching, whining… these are the noises that comprise coyote pillow talk and I’m at the point where I’m going to have to DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!

When I first saw that there were coyotes living in the field behind my house, I thought, “How quaint!  It’s like living in the country.   I now have the joy and wonder of wildlife right in my neighborhood!”  They kind of look like dogs, except they’re really skinny and have really narrow, snobby looking faces – kind of like how supermodels look to us regular people.  So I was OK with having them around as long as they didn’t construct elaborate devices to catch a roadrunner and hold up little signs that say, “Yipes!” when they fall off a cliff.   The problem, aside from the nightly bedlam, is the fact that they are now roaming around the alleys and backyards, probably searching for Viagra.   If they can’t find any, I’m quite certain they will resort to eating someone’s lap dog or possibly their slow witted children.  All of a sudden, the cute coyotes became a menace.

The other day I was in my backyard when all of a sudden I spotted one of the filthy vermin rummaging around my next door neighbors’ backyard.   Like a real life Dr. Doolittle, I attempted to reason with the creature.  I went over to the fence and said, “Hey, get lost.”  It ignored me.  Then I got tough.  I yelled, “HEY!  Get out of there!!!!” and clapped my hands.   Just in case you ever find yourself confronted with a dangerous wild animal, I would suggest you don’t clap your hands at it.  They think you are applauding them.  The coyote looked pleased, kind of like Meryl Streep graciously accepting an Oscar.

So after being ignored again, I felt my manliness being mocked, so I started moving toward him in a threatening manner (scowling, narrowing my eyes, looking very cross indeed) and then finally he got up and sauntered away at a leisurely pace.   Needless to say, I felt insulted.  As he meandered off, he looked over his shoulder at me as if to say, “I’m leaving, but only because you bore me.”

Some of you may be thinking, “Frank, you handsome son of a bitch, why don’t you just call Animal Control and have them come deal with it?”  Of course I thought of that, but I’m an animal person, a sentimental nature lover (translation: Pathetic Wussy) and don’t want to see them killed.   I would prefer that they be gently transplanted back into the wild, or at least into some other part of town where I don’t live.

I have some experience with live animal relocation.   A few years ago I was constantly woken up at 5 in the morning by an annoying squirrel that would drop pine cones onto the roof of my truck.  After suffering through this for a number of days, I decided to relocate the little bastard to a nice park somewhere.   I have this live animal trap constructed out of plywood and sheer genius… so I decided to use it.    I baited it every morning with peanut butter and after being repetitively foiled by the sneaky creature, I finally was rewarded by the satisfying sound of the trap’s door slamming shut.   Delighted, I took the trap out to a park and opened the door to let the squirrel escape into some trees.   What came out was a very frazzled house cat.  

My conscience smote me when I considered leaving the cat there but I kept envisioning some cute little girl wandering the neighborhood with tears in her eyes, crying out, “Mr. Whiskers!  Mr. Whiskers, please come home!”   So I spent almost an hour trying to corral this psychotic cat back into the car and when I finally got my hands on him, I put him in the trunk and drove him back to the neighborhood where he could steal peanut butter from some other guy’s trap.

BUT THE POINT IS, I’ve learned from this mistake and I’m ready to deal with the coyote problem head on.  First, I’m going to construct a larger live animal trap, bait it with Barry White albums and a nice Chardonnay, and then I’m going to systematically relocate those pesky coyotes back into the wild (or a maybe a busy shopping mall).

Stay (looney) tuned.

Adjusting to unemployment

After years of climbing the corporate ladder (second rung from the bottom) being unemployed is a new and frightening sensation.    In order to help others in my situation, I’ve decided to chronicle the necessary steps so that others can make the adjustment to not working for a living.     Granted, I’ve only been unemployed for 2 days now but the changes have been both stark and unsettling.   For instance, I used to maintain a strict work/life balance.

In the past my Sundays were usually spent in the following manner:  

1.       Wake up depressed because Monday is a scant 24 hours away.

2.       Check work email.  

3.       Complain to the dog about having to go to work in 23 hours.

4.       Stare at the backyard from the kitchen window and make mental notes of all the chores that need to be done but excusing myself from doing any of them because I have to…

5.       Check work email.

6.       Make a sumptuous lunch, noting to the dog that if I didn’t have to go to work I could stay home and make myself extravagant meals like this every single day.   Give the dog my left over cereal from lunch.

7.       Check work email.

8.       Stare at closet, making mental notes of the clothes that I wore 3 times the previous week and then reassuring myself that no one at work noticed.

9.       Check work email.

10.   Extravagant dinner.   Give the dog the leftover nachos.

11.   Check work email.

12.   Have daydreams about how those crazy postal workers just might not be so nutty after all.

13.   Check work email.

14.   Bed time.   Dream about work.

So now that I am free from the shackles of work, I spent my Sunday planning out my week:

Monday:  Think up money making scheme that doesn’t involve criminal activity.

Tuesday:  Think up money making scheme that may or may not be illegal but doesn’t hurt anyone.

Wednesday:  Think up illegal money making scheme that may or may not end up with someone getting hurt.

Thursday:  Come up with brilliant money making scheme at all costs.

Friday:  Steal homeless person’s shopping cart and take empties to the bottle depot. 

Saturday:  Bask in previous day’s criminal success.

Sunday:  Start meth lab.

You see, unemployment is kind of a slippery slope when it comes to maintaining the moral high ground.  Focus is everything.   That and having a hobby might help too…  

  

 

A Special Literary Announcement!

My first novel, “The Infallible Heart of Andy Tiernan” is now available in e-book format through Amazon.  In fact, it is ONLY available as an e-book now.    The reason, I am self-deprecatingly proud to say, is because over the last year I have sold exactly 0 copies in soft cover.  I know, quite an achievement!   So before I beg, plead and implore you all to buy my book, I thought I would start out by saying why you should NOT buy it.   For starters, it’s not exactly a crowning achievement in literature.    It’s a small book that most people can read in a few hours and chances are that it won’t change your life or provide any deep insights into the universe.    When you compare it to other books out there, it kinda falls short.  I’m not talking about comparing it to the classics or even those trashy romance novels that people sell at garage sales for 5 cents.   Even compared to those books, mine doesn’t quite measure up.  Believe me, there are times when I finish reading a good book and think, “Holy, I have absolutely no talent!”   But then, once in a while, when someone tells me that they enjoyed my book, it gives me a kind of glowing delusion that warms my soul and keeps me typing away.  

That kind of encouragement is what we struggling artists live for.  But even beyond that, beyond the soul crushing revelations that I haven’t quite found success yet is the fact that this little book is dear to me.   It wasn’t the first book I wrote and I didn’t write it with any grand purpose or message attached to it.   In fact, I wrote most of it in long hand, on a pad of legal paper.   I wrote it when I was all alone, summoning all the muses if not for inspiration, then for some company.    I was, like Zack, lonely and looking for something to cheer me up.  I wanted to write something a little funny and a little sad and something that would make some people smile.   Pathetic really. 

But here’s the part when I ask you to buy it.   First off, it’s only 5 bucks.   Like I said, it will only take a few hours to read and there may be some parts that will make you laugh, or forget about that jerk in the office or how you should be vacuuming or cleaning the bathroom instead of just sitting there reading.    You can read it on any reader or computer or ipad or smart phone (the link for the Kindle app will be posted below).   If you buy the book, I’ll be forever grateful, I’ll name one of the characters in my new book after you and I’ll include you in my evening prayers.   All that for 5 measly bucks!  

Now that I’ve begged you to buy it, I have another favor to ask:  please tell a friend about it.   Back when the softcovers were flying off the shelves (total sales: 7 or 8) some of you lent it to a friend… and that’s great, but it kinda rips off the poor author when you do that.  So as an e-book, you can just tell your cheapskate buddies that they have no excuse because it’s only 5 bucks!  Then, hopefully they’ll tell a friend and so on and so on and then before you know it, I’ll be famous and you can proudly say, “I knew that guy back when he took my phone calls!” 

Even beyond that, if things do take off, you can proudly say that you were a part of it all.  You can say that you helped make it a success.   You won’t forget something that… I know, because I never will forget what you did for me either. 

Since I’m here, I might as well thank my friend Dave for designing the new cover.  I really like it and I think you will too.  And another special thank you to my friend who bought the book, never read it, but was still kind enough to give me a glowing review on Amazon.  It’s that kind of insincerity that makes a true friend!    

So there you go, a special plea to make this book a success so I won’t lose all hope and stop writing forever… cursing all of you for dashing my hopes and sending me into a downward spiral of drug abuse, alcoholism and self-loathing.   No pressure.

Here’s the link:

http://www.amazon.ca/Infallible-Heart-Andy-Tiernan-ebook/dp/B00BJL4R0I/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1361665007&sr=8-1

And here’s the link for the Kindle app so you can read it on anything electronic (except for things like, I dunno, a lamp.  But who knows, the way technology is taking off nowadays, maybe someday you can even read it on your toaster.  If that ever happens, remember where you heard it first.)

http://www.amazon.com/gp/feature.html?ie=UTF8&docId=1000493771

 

 

 

Movies, they can be good. But mostly not.

I have to admit that I used to be skeptical about movies being made about toys.   I liked the first “Transformers” movie after all. I suppose G.I Joe was a plausible concept since it’s also based on an action figure.  Then “Battleship”, a movie about a board game, came out.  I haven’t seen it but my review is included here: “It sucks.”   I know that come Oscar time, “Hungry, Hungry Hippos” will be a shoe in.  

But why is Hollywood limiting itself to making movies about toys and board games?   Why not Lego?  It could be called, “Lego: The Movie about Lego”.   How about, “Jenga:  Blocks of Wood Apocalypse!!!”    There’s so many untapped themes out there!   Why not feature films about cereal?  Count Chockula would be a great protagonist.   He could be in a buddy movie with Tony the Tiger.  Just imagine the wacky adventures that Snap, Crackle and Pop could have!    Come on Hollywood, we all know you’re running out of ideas and damn it, I’m here to help.

I suppose it all boils down to bitterness on my part.   They could have made a movie about my book, but instead they made one about Smurfs.    It could be argued that my book isn’t that popular, but out of the 12 people who bought my book, I bet 2 of them liked it better than the Smurfs.   Hollywood, are you going to ignore the demographic that consists of me and that guy I paid to say that he liked my book better than the Smurfs?   Are you really that shallow… hey Hollywood, don’t ignore me!  I’m talking to you!

Hollywood never listens.   Sure they’ll nod and say things like, “Yes, I see your point.” But in reality, Hollywood is just thinking about what they’re going to make for dinner.   (Just for the record, I know that Hollywood isn’t a person, I’m not THAT detached from reality, I’m just trying to make a point.  I think the point has something to do with the fact that a lot of movies get made that suck.   I suppose I shouldn’t really complain because I don’t really go to the movies.  I mean come on, after buying the tickets, a vat of popcorn, a shipping container of Hot Tamales and a keg of stale pop, the whole thing ends up costing like 1400 bucks.   It’s ridiculous.  If I had 1400 bucks to spare, I would probably buy a fairly decent suit because I don’t have a lot of nice suits.  I actually only have one suit and it serves double duty for weddings and funerals.  So if I had a really nice fourteen hundred dollar suit I would wear it 5 days a week until people starting making comments like, “Frank wears the same suit almost every day.  Is he living on the street?  Why has Frank fallen on such hard times?” and I would reply that I decided to get my full money’s worth out of that suit by wearing it almost every day instead of throwing it away at the movies, watching some stupid crap like “Count Chockula vs. Marshmallow Van Helsing.”   Then, finally, I could say that I have made my point about movies after a brief literal detour about a suit.   And on that note, I will end this parenthetical statement with a closing parentheses.  Specifically, this one à).

So yeah, movies… they suck.