Did you ever wonder why men were so preoccupied with food and sex, while women were so much more complex? Sit back for a bit while yours truly, Angry Old Fat Man, explains how the whole situation came about.
This elf is wanted in connection to several incidents of the following:
Aggravated holiday shopping
Silliness in the first degree
Random acts of smiling and Christmas cheer
This elf has been most recently observed in Wal-Mart, though he has been spotted in other retail establishments around Myrtle Beach as well. He is armed. He has two of them in fact, and has been seen carrying presents in both of them. He has recently begun to victimize small children by grinning at them with malicious happiness and terrorizing store clerks with loud proclamations of "Merry Christmas".
DO NOT ATTEMPT TO APPREHEND HIM YOURSELF! ALERT THE PROPER AUTHORITIES!
Each year Britain's Literary Review honors a mainstream author with "The Bad Sex In Fiction Award." The award goes to writers whose descriptions of sexual antics and activity inspire "eye-rolling and disgust."
This year, Rowan Somerville won the award for descriptions in his book, "The Shape of Her." Passages like the following secured him the honor:
Like a lepidopterist mounting a tough-skinned insect with a too blunt pin he screwed himself into her.
As if that wasn't good enough to secure the best of the bad prize, elsewhere in the book Somerville describes a nipple as "the nose of the loveliest nocturnal animal, sniffing in the night."
Some other big literary names were on the list of nominees, including Jonathan Franzen for his book Freedom which included the following passage:
One afternoon, as Connie described it, her excited clitoris grew to be eight inches long, a protruding pencil of tenderness with which she gently parted the lips of his penis and drove herself down to the base of its shaft. Another day, at her urging, Joey described to her the sleek warm neatness of her turds as they slid from her anus and fell into his open mouth, where, since these were only words, they tasted like excellent, dark chocolate.
Another nominee was Adam Ross for descriptions in his book, Mr. Peanut. Including a passage where a husband describes his love for his wife's "giganticness" and said if he made love to her from behind he felt like "an X-rated Gulliver among the Brobdingnags." Ross writes,
She was not his wife but a giant she-creature, an overlarge sex pet: his to screw, groom and maintain.
In accepting the award, Somerville was gracious and stated that he felt it was fitting because, "There is nothing more English than bad sex."
It's tinfoil hat time again. I snuck into Mr. Quack's secret room and borrowed one of his. To get it I had to break the code to unlock the secret box where he stores the alien abduction/blocking government surveillance gear (most of it is multi-purpose). Chasing the snark I sent him after won't take long, so I better make this post quick.
For some time I've been checking my book and ebook sales with a fervor and dedication unmatched by most religions. But as time passes it has perturbed me more and more that so few of those sales are for the paperback versions of my books available through Amazon's Createspace. I sell a couple of paperbacks a month and that number should be much, much higher.
CS now distributes paperbacks to other retailers, so my paper books are not just available at Amazon, they're sold at bookstores across the net - from Barnes and Noble to Books a Million and to scores of other retailers. So the books are out there for purchase in lots of places. Plus, not everybody owns an ereader (yet) but everybody can read paperpacks. Everybody has bought paperbacks for years.
So why is it that my ebooks far, far, FAR outsell the paperbacks?
It's the price. CS is a POD (print on demand) company. Under the old system, indie authors had to pay big up front fees and pay to have their books mass produced. Then they had to market and sell the books themselves. I understand that Dan Brown used to sell paperbacks out of his automobile trunk. But under the new POD systems, there are no upfront fees and the company will market and distribute your books if you enroll in the "pro" plan for $39 per year. So most folks - nearly all indie authors these days - have long ago dumped the old paperback companies and are going with one of the POD companies.
It's a great idea in theory and it would be a great idea in practice - except for the price structure. A writer could opt out of the pro plan and put the books up on just Amazon and charge a "fairly" reasonable rate for them. But everyone wants their books out in more venues. So we opt into the distribution system. That comes with big old royalties to Amazon. Under the structure, a paperback that a writer could buy directly for just over $4 has to be sold for like $16.99 to net a writer $2.75 in royalties. Ouch.
And you know what? $16.99 is a hell of a lot of money to pay for a paperback. So very few buyers purchase indie paperbacks. They skim over them and wonder what kind of nut thinks their book is worth that kind of money. Most probably have a vision of authors expecting the Brinks truck to drive to their house and drop off money. The big price tag keeps sales of indie paperbacks low.
Once upon a time, a long time ago, there was an African man who lived in a small village. The village had, as many villages did in Africa, a witchdoctor who healed and protected the villagers with various incantations, rituals, and potions.
It just so happened that the man was having a little stroll when he heard laughing from far above him. It was the witchdoctor! He was flying and soaring and swooping, like a big bird of prey, and was having a grand old time.
After awhile the witchdoctor landed and saw the man. The man greeted him with the most astonished look on his face. "How... how... how in the world did you..."
The witchdoctor said, "How did I fly, you mean? Oh yes, it was a potion I've been working on. I drank it and became as light as a feather, able to go to and fro with the wind! It is a marvelous feeling, it is."
The man asked, "You did THAT, with a potion?"
The witchdoctor replied, "Yes, yes, it is very simple once you have all of the ingredients and you put them together juuuuuuuuust right."
The man asked, "Could you tell me and show me how to make this potion?"
The witchdoctor chuckled. "Sure, sure, let me tell you the recipe."
They spent most of the afternoon gathering all of the components of the flying potion. The witchdoctor insisted that the man do all of the work to make the potion because, well, the man was the one who wanted it.
The man listened intently to the witchdoctor as he gave him fairly complex instructions on how to assemble the potion. Finally, over a small boiling pot, the man had the last ingredient in his hand and was getting ready to throw it in. The witchdoctor stopped him and told him, "Now this is the most important part of the potion. You must not only do everything I've already told you, but you must also think in the way I've instructed, do you understand?"
"Yes," replied the man, impatiently.
"Now remember this. Whatever you do..."
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.
-- An excerpt from the second paragraph of the United States of America's Declaration of Independence from the British Crown.
Happy Birthday, America!
Mary Anne and I weren't always married, though it seems like it after 20+ years. I still had a lot to learn about women when she and I first got married. One of those things I had to learn was how women had an entirely different methodology for shopping than men.
I found it best to think about it in terms of our hunter-gatherer ancestry. Men were the hunters; the first thing we saw that could provide the necessary meat for the tribe was the first thing we stabbed to death and brought home. We knew the general locations where those meals on legs could be found, so we just went there, waited for them to show up, go Stone Age on their asses, and then, VOILA, lunchtime.
Men today shop the same way, except huge discount stores make it so much easier to spot that button-down oxford shirt, sneak up on it, spear it, and drag it back to our caves.
Women? That's a whole different game. One that men will never understand, except to note it somehow evolved from jabbering at each other while wandering among groves of fruit trees.
As an example of what happens when these worlds collide, I present an account of my first married shopping trip with Mary Anne:
... it'd be just as unoriginal as all the others, but a good bit more honest about it. (link for the embedding-impaired)
Includes a jab at Grey's Anatomy starting at 1:51.
Made back in 2008 just after the TV writer's strike was over.
All video clips used in this work are copyrighted by their respective owners and are for parody purposes only.
Hello everyone, it's Mary Anne's husband, Angry Old Fat Man (AOFM for short).
If you're a regular reader of this site, you probably know that I, AOFM, create all of Mary Anne's book covers for her. She expressed her desire to let you, the reader, have a peek behind the scenes of the creative process I go through to make nebulous clouds of thought into solid color images on thick cover stock paper.
So come along with me while I indulge her.