BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

I’m actually a little late to the party here.

Not just with the late blog, mind you. I mean with the topic. Although I have known about this particular issue for some time, I have been thinking on it. You see, I have a personal rule –

Don’t dis other authors, or their work, in public. It just makes you look like an ass.

I’ve been adhering to that rule, because I already look like a big enough ass. Or is that douchebag? I keep getting them mixed up. Oh well, either way, I’ve kept my mouth shut about this while the rest of the world had gone monkeyshit crazy about it. Well… I’ve finally decided to say something, but I think I’ll try to restrain myself to shithouse rat crazy.

You see, Snoopi… Wait… Snacki? No… That’s an Eric Cartmann thing… Snoozi? No… That was a dwarf, right?… Wait… Oh yeah. Snooki. I think she works in a pool hall or something… Anywho, it seems that Snoowhatever wrote a book. From what I understand, not a very good book. I have no intention of buying it, nor of even checking it out of the library. I did, however, accidentally read an excerpt from it.

I say accidentally because I was reading an article and it contained said excerpt. I read the first line of the selected passage and stopped cold. I had to read it three or four more times to make sure it said what I thought it said. Now, don’t get me wrong. It’s not as if it was trainwreck worthy. If that were the case I wouldn’t say a word, because no matter how bad it is, if it is trainwreck worthy it is something that will hook a reader and keep them going – ergo, it will sell books.

This wasn’t a trainwreck. It was more along the lines of suddenly discovering rat droppings in your Moo Goo Gai Pan after having consumed over half the carton. Yeah, disgusting and horrifying. Not just the content, but the writing as well.

But that’s not my issue. I mean, not everyone can write. Just like not everyone can be a brain surgeon. I do, however, take umbrage with the vast majority of folks out there who seem to think “writing” is easy and something just anyone can do. Case in point, Snoopi, or whatever the hell her name is.

But we still aren’t at my issue.

You see, I used to want to be on the New York Times Bestseller list. I’ve always seen that as some sort of brass ring where my writing career is concerned. You know, New York, New York… If I can make it there, I can make it anywhere… Hitting the NYT Bestseller list would mean I finally made it. My books would be flying off the shelves. My peers would take me seriously. As it stands right now, most of them do. The handful that don’t can kiss my… Well… getting off subject again. You know me…

But like I said, I used to want to be on the NYT Bestseller list. Now, I should point out that I have a few author friends who are, so my blog here today is not meant in any way to diminish their accomplishments. They are excellent writers who have honed their craft and deserve the honor. However, when I look at the list I also see that MOST of the names are people I’ve never even heard of.  Okay… So they made it too. Good for them. I’m a little surprised and not knowing who they are. I mean, I’m fairly well-read, but what the hell, I can’t know everything. Obviously they have a book that is so popular that it is moving off the shelves like hotcakes at the all you can eat free church breakfast.

I mean, after all, it is the New York Times BEST SELLER list, right? That sort of implies that the books in question are the cream of the crop. Those that are selling best, i.e., better than all of the other books.

Then you see something like this:

So… This bizarre little hardcover missive about a girl who launches loud, stinky farts while she “shakes her peaches for show” is a New York Times Bestseller.

Yes, it’s true. It debuted on the list at #24.

At first, that made me wonder about society as a whole. Truth is, I still do, but at least something like this meant that the Toob-Blinded sheeple might actually be READING something for a change. So, as distasteful as the chosen material happens to be, at least they were READING.

Then the Bookscan numbers came out. If you aren’t familiar with those, they track how many copies are actually sold. Well… Given that it was at #24 on the NYT Bestseller list within two weeks of its release, that number should be in the tens of thousands, right? Probably more like over 100,000.

Instead, it was 8998.

Yes. Eight Thousand Nine-Hundred Ninety-Eight. An eight followed by two nines and another eight. Four figures. Poverty level.

Too bad for Snoopi. Guess she’ll drop right off that coveted list with dismal numbers like those.

But no. She merely slipped a bit to #28.

Even though sales are sluggish right now, I’ve had way better numbers than those. Makes me wonder why I haven’t spent some time on the NYT…

But like I said. I “yoosta wanna” make it onto the NYT… After seeing this, not so much anymore…

More to come…

Murv

For the record: Positions on the NYT Bestseller List are NOT calculated based solely on sales of a title. It is a complex algorithm drawn from initial print runs, marketing hype, units shipped to retailers, and strategically scheduled lunch dates. ACTUAL sales to readers are a variable that is thrown in after the fact and carries far less weight than the first four factors at the outset. Its relevance grows as the book  either rockets through its sell-through cycle, or simply founders and ends up with vast numbers being returned and “remaindered.” I know this just like every other author on the block, so please take this piece for what it is – a satirical look at the publishing industry, smoke and mirrors marketing, and the “wag the dog” principle.

…the opportunity.

I’ll tell you right up front, this is going to be one of those short, vapid blog entries with no substance whatsoever. Some of you may even find it sexist. Well, you should know me better than that by now. Just sayin’. (Edit, I thought it was going to be vapid when I started out, but maybe now, not so much.)

Anyway, after an hour or so of “entertaining the troops” on Facebook, a comment was made that sparked an idea. Of course, I mentioned that I had an idea and I needed to run off for a bit and implement it. What did that get me?

Oh ye of little faith. Pthhhbbbbt!

So, the idea that came about was this. Cartoon characters. I suppose it all stared with me mentioning that since Pebbles is a redhead she could most likely kick Bam-Bam’s ass. This lead to comments from others, and then a dribble from my brainpan.

So, here’s my flash of not-so-brilliance. Many folks I talk to have these “lists”. You know what I’m talking about. The list of celebrities your spouse said it would be okay for you to sleep with if presented with the opportunity. The reason your spouse agrees, of course, is the fact that it just ain’t gonna happen. This is the literal definition of a “safe bet.”

Anyway, the comments got me to thinking. How about cartoon characters you could sleep with if presented with the opportunity?

Therefore, here’s my list, in no particular order.

Jessica Rabbit.

I mean…

Well…

Ummm…

Just look at her!

I know, I know. She’s just drawn that way. But, that’s the point. She’s a cartoon. She’s drawn in such a way as to… well… stir the imagination so to speak.

I really suspect that I am not alone in this. If I was there wouldn’t be so many pictures of her out there on the Internet.

After all, we’re talking about a pretty dated movie here.

And, what of Roger? Aww, hell, I don’t know. He’s a rabbit, and he never really seemed to be all that with it to begin with. Besides, if we can have “Toon Lists,” how do we know the toons don’t have lists as well? And, after all, I am a famous author ya’know… (I figure if I keep saying it, eventually someone will believe it. Maybe even me.)

At any rate, even though I said no particular order, I think ol Jess here would have to be right there at the top of the list.

Now don’t start in on me about robbing the cradle and stuff with this next one. I’m not talking ORIGINAL Pebbles. I’m talking 70’s era, grown up Pebbles.

And, when you get right down to it, Pebbles Flintsone is WAY older than me, so if any cradle robbing is being done, she’s the culprit.

But, let’s face it. When they did the Pebbles and Bam-Bam cartoon, where the two of them had grown up, they drew her pretty good.

While kids watching the cartoon probably didn’t notice much of anything, trust me, the dad’s did.

On that note, I have long held the theory that they put semi-alluring characters into cartoons for the purpose of getting the parents – in particular the dads – to sit down with the kids for a bit.

Let’s face it, Daphne was the hot one.

Now this is not to say Velma didn’t have her own allure. I happen to harbor a fondness for women in glasses, and I kinda liked that pageboy do she sported as well. The baggy sweater, well, not so much, but it did leave some things up to the imagination. And, since we are talking toons here, imagination is pretty much the driving force.

My only turnoff with Velma was actually the fact that she kept running around yelling, “Jinkeez!” Honestly, that sounded like some kind of STD to me.

Seriously.

“Hey, Shaggy, the doctor just called with my test results, and I tested positive for Jinkees. You and Scooby better go get yourselves checked.”

But, we’re here to talk about Daphne, not Velma and bizarre, cartoon STDs.

Self-assured, downright stylish, and a redhead. Yeah, I know, I’ve got myself a pattern going here.

Either way, Daphne could get right into the thick of things, play the damsel in distress, and help solve the mystery. All the while she looked damn good doing it, and kept Fred on a short leash. That had to tell you something about her right there.

So, for all her detractors out there, Daph had a lot more depth than you realize.

And I’m willing to explore it.

I actually have a few more, but I think I’ll save them for Toon Dates Part II or something…

More to come…

Murv