BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

I was going to call this “It’s Just An Egg Sandwich…”, but then I had one of those moments of inspiration. Either that, or gas, I’m not sure which. In any event, I’m hoping Kurt Vonnegut will forgive me for throwing down some massa-cree on his title. After all, I did use the short version*. That should count for something.

So it goes**… Why was I going to call this entry “It’s Just An Egg Sandwich…”? Well, that’s fairly simple, actually. Mostly because I happened upon the idea of writing it while I was in the middle of fixing myself an egg sammich… On whole wheat… With cheese… And ‘mater. Kinda makes you hungry, eh?

So it goes…  The whole egg sammich thing was one of those, “Oh yeah, that again… maybe I should write about it,” moments. You know, sort of like Deja Vu, but not. Mostly because I don’t allow my deja to be vued.  It’s way too personal.

So it goes… I was standing there fixing myself an egg sammich when it suddenly dawned on me that at some unknown point in the future I would be doing something equally mundane, but that I would just as suddenly flash on the fact that I had once been standing there fixing myself an egg sammich and thinking about the fact that at some unknown point in the future I would be thinking about this moment in time and wondering where all the time that was in between had gotten off to; whereupon I would then think about the fact that I was standing there fixing myself an egg sammich and… Well… I think you get the idea.

And why did I suddenly flash on all that? Well, because in the instant prior to that flash there had been another flash. Not the expose yourself kind, mind you… Although, in a way I suppose it was. Nope… This was another of those flashes in the brainpan.

So it goes… I was standing there fixing myself an egg sammich and thinking about the fact that at some unknown point in the future I would be doing something equally mundane, but that I would just as suddenly flash on the fact that I had once been standing there fixing myself an egg sammich and thinking about the fact that at some unknown point in the future I would be thinking about this moment in time and wondering where all the time that was in between had gotten off to, because I had just flashed on something I had done in the past that was equally mundane while having the very same sort of thought…

And… So it goes… My world falls in upon itself like a shattered mirror, reflecting back what was, what is, and what will be.

Maybe I should change my name to Billy Pilgrim… But then I’d have to get killed by a gullible moron – of course, that’s Kurt’s story, not mine…

I think maybe I should just keep writing. It seems Kurt and I have a lot in common where style and satire are concerned. Hell, we both even have critics that hate us because we don’t follow their rules, and you know what? That suits me just fine… I bet it did Kurt, too. I’ll ask him when I get to the other side. I suspect that is a ways off yet, however, I’m willing to bet I’ll by lying there in my bed thinking about the time I was fixing myself an egg sammich and flashing on the thought that I would one day be doing…

So it goes…

More to come…

Murv

* The actual full title of Slaughterhouse Five is: Slaughterhouse-Five, or The Children’s Crusade: A Duty Dance with Death.

** “So it goes” is a commonly repeated expression employed by Vonnegut in the book, Slaughterhouse Five.

Disclaimers… We’ve all seen and heard them. We’ve all sat back and wondered at the stupidity of people who sue over hot coffee because they hadn’t been told that the hot coffee was hot. Even worse, the stupidity of the jurors in the trial who saw fit to judge in favor of the idiot who didn’t know hot coffee would be… well… HOT.

Then there are the disclaimers we just sort of wonder about, because otherwise we would just burst into uncontrolled laughter… Of course, sometimes we do anyway… You know the ones I mean. “DO NOT USE IN SHOWER” emblazoned across the label on a portable electric hand mixer, as if I might happen to be mixing up some cake batter while I’m washing my hair. Of course, I suppose there could be all manner of kinky ramifications there, but I don’t want to think about that. It makes me feel all kinds of dirty. Even in the shower.

The thing is, you just KNOW they had to put that on there because some frootloop decided it would be a good idea to attach a Loofah to the beaters and use the mixer as a power exfoliation device in the shower. Hence, the disclaimer. What it should REALLY say is, “We know you’re an idiot, here’s your Darwin Award (Posthumously, of course).”

But then, there are those disclaimers that really are necessary. I mean the kind where a boatload of common sense might get you through, but for a multitude of reasons you cannot depend upon Sherlockian Common Sense to be in play. And, there are even those times when people truly have no clue what to expect, therefore a disclaimer is in order.

That’s why I have several. You can see one of them just to the left beneath my picture. It is there to let you know that this is a satire blog and taking it seriously, unless a particular post is labeled as serious, makes you not particularly savvy. After all, it says it right there…

I should make note, however, that among my disclaimers, none of them say “contents hot.” That would be EKay’s disclaimer, (along with may bite, prone to random acts of beating you severely, failure to bow and worship will result in extreme punishment, etc…) – There IS a “contents MAY be hot” in the footer of the blog, but note that it says MAY BE. It pretty much refers to posts where E K is involved…

But let’s get back to me. After all, it’s my blog, not hers… Well… Okay, I just use it… Don’t tell her I said that it was mine, okay? So… anyway… Among my disclaimers is one that I rattle off at the beginning of every workshop I present while at an event or bookstore. If you’ve ever attended one of my seminars it is highly likely you have heard some version of it. I usually ask who hasn’t heard it, but even if I get no hands raised I recite it anyway. It’s just safer for all involved.

So, just for drill, here is my workshop/seminar disclaimer. If you ever attend one of my workshops – not panels, mind you, those are different (although I sometimes work it in) – you will hear this, or the version of it that is current for that moment…

M. R. SELLARS’ DISCLAIMER

First off, I am a fiction author. This means I lie for a living. It’s what I get paid to do. Think about that… Okay, now that you’ve given it some thought, I’ll explain further – I write FICTION. What this means is that 99% of what I am about to say to you is probably bullshit. I’m making it up as I go along. My one goal here is to entertain you for the next 90 minutes and keep you occupied so that the staff of this event can finish preparing lunch [dinner, setting up XYZ, insert function here]. If you plan on taking notes, feel free. Just know that you are most likely transcribing fiction.

Second – I am irreverent.  I am also foul-mouthed when necessary. I know cuss words in several languages and I am not afraid to use them. In fact, they will sometimes just randomly fall out of my mouth, especially if you startle me. If you think this is going to offend you to the point where it is going to ruin your whole day, do us both a favor- get up and leave now. Regarding those last two points – If you sit through my entire workshop after having heard this disclaimer, then go to the event organizer and complain that I have ruined your whole day, I will find you. I don’t think I need to say anymore. Just know that I will find you. So you need to ask yourself if you really want to take that chance. I mean, after all, I warned you. If you get offended it’s your fault now, not mine. As to getting up and leaving, if you elect to do so AFTER I begin the actual workshop, I will make fun of you. The only exceptions to that rule are true medical emergencies. Needing to take a piss because you drank 14 cups of coffee and didn’t make a pit stop before coming in here does NOT qualify.

Third – I tend to not stand still and I talk with my hands. I will likely be right out in the middle of the crowd with you, as well as bouncing around the stage. This is how I get my exercise.

Fourth – I am an interactive speaker. What this means is that at times during this workshop/seminar, depending upon the topic, I am likely to ask you, as a group, a question. If I do this, I expect an answer. Allow me to clarify – I want the answer now. As in during the actual workshop. I do not want you to go home, ruminate about it for two weeks, and then email me an answer. At that point the workshop is over and it does none of us any good. If you don’t answer me at all, understand that I will just make up some more shit and say that you said it.

Fifth – During the next 90 minutes [120 min, 60 min, ??] I will say things that I personally think are funny. I expect you to think they are funny too. If I say something that I find funny and you don’t laugh, I will repeat it. That is your cue. Be on the lookout for it. Why? Because if you don’t laugh when I repeat it, I will then explain it. Believe me, you do NOT want to get as far as me explaining my jokes.

Okay, now that I have that out of the way, are we all in agreement? If not, this is your chance to leave unscathed…

I realize that there are some folks out there who are going to read this and be highly offended. They are going to think that I am a big asshole, probably because it is hard to impart the comic timing of the verbal delivery of this disclaimer via the written word in a short space like a blog. However, there are people who get offended by it in person too, and storm out of my workshop/seminar space in a huff…

You know what? They weren’t going to find me all that entertaining anyway so it’s just as well. I think that’s why their faces are all pinched up and pouty. Or I supposed it could be that they eschew disclaimers, and they are all pinched up and pouty because they take Preparation H orally…

Either way, I’m sure they’ll be picking up their Darwin Awards soon enough…

More to come…

Murv