A-TO-Z-LETTER CHALLENGE "B" – ROBERT BROCKWAY, WRITER

 (WARNING: CONTAINS ADULT LANGUAGE)

I cannot remember the first time I read one of Robert Brockway's articles on Cracked.com, the humor website, but it's been years. Robert is not a humorist per se, as was James Thurber; he tends more to sci-fi, or speculative fiction, or whatever the hell they're calling it these days, but I was immediately taken with his writing style, not just because of his use of the English language, which is beautiful and unusual, but because he paints images that linger in the mind. . .

                                                                                                                                                                                                  Dieselpunk

. . . and then follows it up with a picture and more prose that embeds itself for eternity, as well as setting you up for the hilarity that is to follow:

 "Demonstration matches were frequently held at county fairs and stadiums all across the country, though it was most prominent in the Midwest during the early 1910s. It was usually played with a basketball, as seen above, and the only mandated gear was a jaunty cap and a callous disregard for human life. It was every bit as unquestionably awesome as it was uncontrollably, screamingly retarded:"

Read more: http://www.cracked.com/blog/15-old-photographs-that-prove-world-used-to-be-insane_p2/#ixzz2xfoeQ8iL

There is more mayhem regarding "Auto Polo" but really? Is it any more idiotic than any of the crap you see on "World's Dumbest Partiers?" I must admit it is the ONLY show I watch on Tee Vee; all else is Netflix. I've seen entire back seats of sedans strung up between two trees and drunken red necks swinging to and fro and laughed myself into apoplexy when one of them does a face-plant into the dirt. Am I just not enjoying a free, and safe, ride as the lower end of the gene pool continues it's slow, albeit creative slouch towards self-destruction? But, I digress.

Within this same article, after "Auto Polo", is something that is near and dear to my heart, although, I am glad it is not practiced anymore, for the sake of the wildlife involved. It is called "Lion Drome" and yes, it was a thing. Just thinking that we, here in the U. S. ever did something like this should seem astonishing, but crazy stunts with wild beasts and any other wild, insane, dangerous things that will most surely end in tears, regret, blood and shattered limbs is done all the time, even now. 

"Lion Drome" consisted of, um. . . well. . . it was. . . Hell. I'm just going to let Robert describe it for you. 

"I've shown this photo once before, but I don't think I made it totally clear that Lion Dromes were not a fluke. This was just how you took in a show, back in the day. It was like going to the matinee now, only instead of watching Jeremy Renner pout in front of a shaky camera, you had the kids stick their unshielded little faces out over a bowl of automotive trauma and told them to inhale the heady fumes of gasoline and jungle predator.

Read more: http://www.cracked.com/blog/15-old-photographs-that-prove-world-used-to-be-insane_p2/#ixzz2xft6IwVD

                                                                                                                                                                                                            Thrillarena

 The first time I saw this picture and could finally stop laughing, I looked at the expression on the lion's face and dubbed him "Executive Lion". He's thinking, "Hmmm, wonder if I ate my briefcase."

I have to dip back into a familiar well and go back to "World's Dumbest" and this time I think it was 2 guys on motorcycles inside a metal ball. . . In Bulgaria, which is already sounding like a bad idea. Here in the good ol' U. S. of A., OSHA isn't exactly busting the chops of cheap carnivals that roam around the country, and since they pretty much dump nuclear waste in the rivers, land and atmosphere with regularity in Eastern Europe, I'm sure they don't give two hoots about a couple of dull-normal siblings in a Bulgarian carny. I was proven right. 

The ball held all right, but the two dudes, after reaching maximum speed did about 2 laps that looked like an insane Wheel-o, before meeting in mid-air and falling into a crumpled heap in the bottom of the metal ball. Who does this? I mean, the ball has to be sturdy enough to hold two full-grown men and two motorcycles, so the bars are rather dense, so you get this impression of a giant atom, with large molecules acting okay, and then, poof! Critical Mass? Fission? . . . and a crumpled heap of men and metal at the bottom. Meanwhile, the "assistant" who had presented this amazing thing with a flair of her hand was off to the side playing "Statues" with her arm still held out, pointing to this 8th wonder of the world. It took her a good minute, or minute and a half to realize all was not going to plan. But I digress.

I could go on for hours about the funny and laugh-out-loud expressions and turns of phrase that Robert Brockway continually amazes me with in his writings. Like any excellent writer, he practices and hones his craft and his diligence and persistence are paying off for him. The publishing house Tor purchased his book, the Unnoticeables at auction, with a three-book, six-figure deal! Tor said the books are "hilarious urban fantasy novels" set in a world that pulls from New York's punk scene in the 1970s as well as the modern-day Los Angeles entertainment industry. The Unnoticeables is tentatively scheduled for July 2015.

Robert's comment on his website, regarding his good news on robertbrockway.net? "That's right -- THREE god damn books coming your way. I am going to literally crush you with an avalanche of my books*.

*Provided you are small and do not struggle too much"

His book RX: A Tale of Negativity is available on Amazon and you can read his articles on Cracked.com. His website is www.robertbrockway.net and he is also a disciple of Chuck Wendig, another hellacious author and fan of establishing a solid work ethic.

Please, please, please be sure and stop by my fabulous team Leader for this challenge, DamyantiG to see her post on action scenes in writing, here: Amlokiblogs: #atozchallenge : A for Action #fiction #writing #quotes

#ROW80 WEDNESDAY CHECK IN – LIVE! BLOGGING FROM MY HEAD

The title says it all. In a desperate attempt to come up with some kind of topic, and since my WIP is pretty much lying doggo at the bottom of a lake, for the time being, until I can get past some of whatever the hell is going on in my life, I'm taking the lazy way out.

Yup, just record all the random shit that pops into my head, as so many bloggers do from Fashion Week, the Super Bowl, the Curiosity landing on Mars, and my favorite, the GOP convention. The convention graced us with its presence here in Tampa, last summer, and had the gall and hypocrisy to troll up and down in their stretch limos on Nebraska Avenue, looking for not constituents, but the hos and the crack, while trumpeting and fum-fawing about “family values” and all of their other platform-type argle-bargle. Those limos looked like a Hollywood Premiere, or maybe Prom Night; same diff. It was also typical of the GOP to blame the lack of enthusiasm and the ultimate loss of Mitt Romney to Tropical Storm Debbie. Then, they blamed the Republican Governor Chris Christie of New Jersey for not showing up at some rally or another, because he stayed at home to help his state after Hurricane Sandy. Sheesh.

We need to do away with these bastards on the grounds of sheer hideousness, never mind their space-ship politics, although they have some seriously warped ideas about everything and no rational arguments.

I sat here in my little room and “pretended” to live-blog, but not nearly as well, nor as hysterically funny as Chuck Wendig's #fakedebate, which was a true howl. But, the best thing I got out of that whole craziness with the GOP cluttering up Tampa, was connecting with Jason Linkins who writes political analysis for Huffington Post. Turns out he was in town, in Ybor City, enjoying a pizza and tweeted about it. I saw it and tweeted back. He ACTUALLY responded! I've been a fan of his writing and analysis for a long time. He's funny, and oh, so bright and can make really dense issues clear. Rock on, Jason!


Trying to figure out our own HARTline bus schedule was a nightmare. Plus, there were so many trucks with bullhorns hollering “VOTE FOR ROMNEY,” it reminded me of the old-timey campaigning on the hustings, when LBJ would race around Texas and drum up votes. These guys just competed with the boom boxes, making everything unintelligible and louder. But, I digress.


Blogging In My Head


11:30 pm: Uninstall and re-install HP software for the 85th time. While doing so, stumble across all the shit Uninstall left behind. Boot into Safe Mode and zap all the HP shit. Whilst doing so, discover that all the PATH statements still have that goddamned JAVA . Delete from strings and save. Reboot and pray. Yay! It worked; still have the touch!

Startin' to hate these guys, too. Perfect install, eleventy-billion times. This white elephant scans, but won't save, so I save it as a screen-shot and it's great. And don't talk to me about the Martians at Customer Support.

12:00 am: Scan “Mel Bay's Ukelele Chord Book. Gag gift, trying to find Asleep At The Wheel “Ida Red.”

Mel Bay has a book for every single instrument ever made; zithers, balalaikas and probably krumhorns and bagpipes. Here's a joke. Q: Why do bagpipers walk when they play? A: To get away from the sound. My dad's rolling around in his urn in the 8th Air Force Cemetery, right now.

12:30 am: Still looking for that stupid song, the gag won't work without the song. $%$^(#


12:32 am: Starting to feel crappy. Test sugar.. HOLY SCREAMING SHIT!!! 335 WTF???


12:33 am: Make a sandwich; eat sandwich. Why in the hell are those birds cheeping on Hulu+ oh, it's the Cheep-Cheep commercial. Some shit about insurance? Who knows. At least it's not those fucking bears.


12:40 am: JC pops up. Blink, blink. He fumbles for his shoes. “You okay?” I ask. “Yea, gotta pee.” I say, “my sugar was 335!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAARRRRRGGGHHHH!! But I ate a sandwich” JC, not being quite awake, says, “That's nice.” He trundles off to pee.


2:00 am: Binge-watching the 4th season of the “Good Wife” on Hulu+ I feel like a bat, up all night and then sleep until 3 or 4 pm. Ick. I always think of my stand partner “Somnambula.” This was when I was a touring musician and spent 9 or 10 months of the year on the road. When I first met “Somnambula,” we were playing in an orchestra that was like the “101 Strings,” or the “Cascading Strings,” or as we called it, the “Castrating Strings.”


We played all that schlocky kind of music, light opera, operetta, or crap like the “Yellow Rose of Texas” where we had a 100-voice choir that shouted it's way through these masterpieces. Anyway, we were playing some idiot waltz, and damned if “Somnambula” didn't just fall asleep in the middle of an oom-pah-pah measure (violas were the pah-pahs; if anyone EVER practiced this crap, they needed to go back to remedial viola school. One of my roommates, another violist, told me about a violist on another tour who DID practice that shit. She and I were like OOOOOH NOOOOO!) Beethoven you practice. You sight-read this crap.


Anyway, “Somnambula's” switch went to “off” and stayed there for about 16 measures. I could see him out of the corner of my eye and he looked like a still life. Then, his switch went to “on,” and damned if he didn't come right in where he was supposed to. I got used to it. Every viola player I have ever known has had a screw loose somewhere, including me. “Somnambula” would be all bright-eyes and wide awake at 4 am, but during the day? Forget it. Once, he didn't make the bus call, and the bus captain went back into the hotel to look for him. My dear, belated friend Spencer said “He's probably hanging by his toes in a closet somewhere.” I still laugh.


4:10 am: I have a “practice studio” kind of set up in the back of the apartment. My preference would be in the living room, but JC has his computer and TV there. This will work, I can open the back door and watch the birds and possums and raccoons. Not so much tedium awaits, it's building stamina and running patterns. Ugh.


4:22 am: Pick out JC's clothes for tomorrow (today, really) and set out copies of his medical release, so he can go back to school. Living a riveting life, but I like to do things for him.


4:25 am: Pondering on how to mess with the NSA some more. New trick. You have to have 2 cell phones, but one has to be a throwaway prepaid. Call that one, leaving it open and hide it somewhere: dumpster, trash can, close or far in your city. Talk on your phone, using lots of cryptic numbers, and phrases. Parts of adverts and catalogues are perfect for this. Do this enough times, someone will show up at your door. Let them know you've been receiving coded messages on your dental fillings. It really helps if you have a couple of your windows covered over with tin foil, as I do, because of the heat factor, but this will work just as well.


5:02 am: When did advertisers decide that “idiot music” was the norm? Da-de-da-de-da-de clapclap Da-de-da-de-da-de clapclap (repeat 87 times in the key of Happy) It sucks so bad; it's worse than Mozart. Well, maybe not. Even I can write better music than that and I stink on ice. “A Prius for Everyone,” is the flamingest worst. It sounds like music composed by a bastardized Atari and a Mattel Jack-in-the-Box.




5:03 am – 3:00 pm Sleep and badly. Sugar still a pain in the ass. Fasting sugar is 158. WTF? Still, I have a dr appointment scheduled and blood work to be done. Getting old isn't for weenuses.


3:00 pm to 6:00 pm: Hunt for stupid reference in one of the “Asleep at the Wheel” tunes on YouTube, where during a vamp, 2 of the fabulous guitarists throw around this deathless badinage; Guitar player 1: “Look, Mel Bay has a book on Learning to play the Guitar in 3 days!” Guitar player 2: “Let's buy it!” All gleefully said, as they hammer through some of the finest Texas Swing and I can't find this GODDAMNED SONG. I have Mel's Uke book and even his Balalaika book, but I'll be damned if I can find this stupid song! Without the book, my very carefully scanned and arty(!?) cover will have no meaning, kinda like my life, right now. Just kidding.


7:00 pm – 9:00 pm: Oh boy, chili dogs and “World's Dumbest ________ .” This show is guaranteed to run forever, because there is no shortage of stupid in this world. And even when you can see the outcome from 2000 miles away, they go right ahead and do it anyway. Some commit serial stupidities; 3 or 4 times. Unreal.


9:00 pm – 11:00pm: Trying to kill the Boss in “Death of Chivalry” quest. Here comes the fail-boat, toot-toot! After I die for the 3rd time, I say “the hell with it,” and decide to watch season 4 of “The Good Wife,” on Hulu + for awhile.


09/19/2013


2:00 am: Off to bed; JC is going to have surgery on his wrist tomorrow and I am going with him. I know he's scared; he has a low threshold to pain and it is worrying him. So, I'm going to keep him company and distracted, because I do love him so.

P. S. I finally got the dr. authorization for my Cymbalta, today. 7 weeks. Unreal.