BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

As promised, I am throwing together a few blogs about our adventures on vacation. Please make note that they won’t necessarily be in chronological order as far as the vacation itself went. They are actually in “transcribed jotted down note order,” which makes sense to me, but not really everyone else. At any rate, this is number four in the series…

In the movie Die Hard, John McClane (Bruce Willis) takes one look at the utter lunacy in the baggage claim area of LAX and with a resigned confusion, exclaims, “California…” (see the scene HERE)

This pretty much sets the tone for McClane’s view of the 31st state, that being that folks on the left coast aren’t right in the head. Obviously, having seen Die Hard more times than I can count, I’ve noticed this “bit” before. I’ve just never really taken it to heart. Then I went on vacation…

No, not to California. I’m not exactly sure they will let me into the state, to be honest, and after this blog post I think my chances will be even more slim.

You see, as you will recall, in Part Two of the Vacation Chronicles, Neither Does Murv… I mentioned the Horn Honkers. As it happens, the Horn Honkers were from California – Or, that’s what it said on their license plates, anyway, and their car definitely did NOT look like a rental.

Our first encounter with the Horn Honkers – the first one that sticks out in our minds, at least – occurred while we were waiting around on the side of the road for a glimpse of “das cinnamon bayer.” We had been waiting there for all of five minutes, maybe even less. With cameras and binoculars poised, we scanned the treeline below, searching for something big, furry, and wearing no pants – just a t-shirt and carrying a jar of honey.

However, before we had a chance to locate said creature, the roar of a car engine came from above. We turned to see the fancymobile, tagged with California plates, speeding around the curve – way too fast, I might add – then accelerating and racing toward us even way too faster. Dangerous kind of fast. At about 100 yards out, the horn began to blare.

A scant moment later the California Fancymobile slid to a halt on the turnout between our vehicle and someone who was parked up ahead of us. We all abandoned our quest for “cinnamon Pooh bayer.” Why? Well, initially we thought it was because someone was in distress and needed help immediately. We perceived that there must be some sort of emergency. After all, they had come down a narrow, “switchbacking” mountain road at a dangerous speed, blaring their horn. What else were we to think?

Seems, however, that we had misinterpreted their situation. Apparently we not only didn’t speak German (See Neither Does Murv…) we also didn’t speak California. The reason they were speeding down the mountain at a dangerous rate is that… Well… we still aren’t sure about that. The horn, though, we did figure out. Fact is, they did want to get our attention, but it was just so that we would “get the f*ck out of their way” because they were from California. We figured that out because before the car had even stopped skidding to a halt, their doors were open and they were jumping out, cameras in hand. Like cockroaches startled by a light, they proceeded to scurry back and forth, running between us, pointing their cameras – sometimes without even looking at what they were pointing them at – then snapping pictures. Thirty-seven point four seconds later, they were back in the California Fancymobile and slinging gravel as they literally peeled out of the turnout and sped off.

We all stood there dumbfounded for a moment, then wandered back to the Jeep and climbed in. We knew better than to believe Pooh would be hanging around after that little display…

And that would be the end of the story if it weren’t for the fact that for the rest of the day we played leapfrog with the F*ckin’ Californians. Well, it wasn’t so much leapfrog as just us meandering into their way, I guess.

Seriously.

We would be standing there admiring the view, waiting for wildlife, eating a sammich, taking a leak, whatever… Suddenly, out of nowhere the California Fancymobile would roar into view and come screeching into whatever parking area we were inhabiting. They didn’t always use their horn, but every single time, without fail, the two bald surfer dudes would jump out of the car, scurry around like they were running late for an appointment with an expensive hooker, and snap random pictures in a half-assed fashion.

But who am I to complain? Odds are they “saw” wayyyyyy more of Wyoming than we did. Still, all of our pictures were in focus. Not so sure about theirs…

More to come…

Murv

There are these bizarre, unwritten rules that we are supposed to follow. Not everyone has the same set of rules, or if they have similar rules, they might not be to the same degree. It’s sort of like that whole “moral-ethical” dilemma question I pose in my Ethics Workshop. What it comes down to is that whole, “we each have morals/ethics, but they are a little bit different than the guy sitting on your left or right might have.”

Same thing for the rules. We all have these unwritten rules that we have to follow, but each person’s is a little bit different – or sometimes a lot different – from those of their neighbor(s).

Some of them are self-imposed. Others are imposed by some bizarre, nameless collective in the sky. Kinda like “the cloud” I guess. Although, most of us realize what the cloud actually is… But we won’t tell the folks who don’t. We’ll just laugh at them behind their backs. Or in front of their backs as the case may be. You never know with “the cloud.”

But back to those unwritten rules. As I said, some of us have rules that are vastly different than those of our neighbors. Case in point, authors. You see, we have unwritten rules that we have to follow, and they haven’t got a damn thing in the world to do with writing. Among these unwritten rules from Mount Olympus (or wherever) is one that really, really irks me.

People get to say whatever they damn well please to us, and we are supposed to stand there and just smile and nod like one of those bobble headed cow figurines on the dashboard of your grandmother’s car…

What? That was only MY grandmother? Oh… Well, you know the figurines I’m talking about, so all good…

Anywho, I thought you might like to know what really goes through my head when people say ridiculous things to me.

Now, so you understand, I’m not talking about bad reviews. I don’t care about that crap. I’ve already stated many bazillions of times that I don’t even read reviews. They waste my time. Either you like my work or you don’t. Me calling you names if you don’t isn’t going to make you like it any better, whether I do it in public like the moron on the internet, or I do it in my head.

So, nope, that’s not what I mean. What I am talking about is when folks say ridiculous things to me during, at, or around a book signing or appearance. The unwritten rule says that I am supposed to nod and smile.

Now… You may be wondering what brought all this on. Well, nothing actually. I just happened to be looking for a blog topic and at the same time I accidentally thought about some of the utter crap that people have said to me over the years. Those two thoughts collided and I figured, “What the hell? I might be able to make something out of that.”

So… Here it is. Some of the things people have literally (I’m not kidding) said to me over the years that I have had to smile and nod at. And really, I am NOT kidding. People have actually said these things to me. And, I’ve nodded and smiled.  But here, as you are about to see, what my grin and bobbling head are doing on the outside are diametrically opposed to what is running through my gray matter.

Make note, you’ll probably find this to be a bit snarky, but ya’know, one good snark deserves another-

Random Person: “If you give me one of your books I’ll read it and let you know if it is any good.”

On The Outside: Smile… Nod… Smile

On The Inside: “If you give me your wallet I’ll go out and buy myself dinner and I’ll let you know if it was any good. Wake up you moron. Since when did I OWE you a book? On top of that, who appointed you Book Czar? Whether you like the book or not that doesn’t mean it’s good or bad. That goes for any book, not just mine. Get over yourself.”

Random Person: “You need a new cover artist. Your covers really suck.”

On The Outside: Smile… Nod… Smile

On The Inside:  “I’ll tell him you said that. By the way, you need a new fashion consultant. That shirt you’re wearing is about to make me puke.”

Random Person: “I really hated [Insert M. R. Sellars Book Title Here] .”

On The Outside: Smile… Nod… Smile

On The Inside: “Well damn. I was writing it just for you too. I’ll call the publisher and tell them to recall all of the copies and hold a public burning. Will that make you feel better?”

Random Person: “[Insert Number] of years ago I talked to you at a book signing and told you that you needed to write a book about [insert topic here] and you promised me you would. When are you going to do that? I’ve been waiting! You owe me!”

On The Outside: Smile… Nod… Smile

On The Inside: “Noooooo, actually I just nodded and smiled at you a lot. I never promised you a damn thing. I might have said that I would think about it just so I could make you go away and leave me alone, but I never promised you sh*t. You just made that up in your head. On top of that, I would still have to sell the idea to my publisher, ya’know. So, the long and short is this – If you want a book about that topic so bad I’m not stopping you from writing it.”

Random Person: “Here’s [insert babbling here] idea for a book. You can use it but you have to split the royalties with me. When can I expect a check?”

On The Outside: Smile… Nod… Smile

On The Inside: “{sigh} Not again… While your idea about pagan pirate space aliens with three penises kidnapping all of the exotic dancers in New Jersey and turning them into go-go dancing sex slaves on planet 72W-99DXZ is fascinating – especially when you seamlessly (cough) work in the disembodied ghost of Sherlock Holmes solving the Jack the Ripper case while aboard the sinking Titanic, and partnering with glowing mummies who eat nothing but SPAM… I… Uh… I just don’t think I can do it justice. Write it yourself and leave me the f*ck alone…”

 

Random Person: “Next time you have a book release party you need to have chocolate cake. I don’t like yellow cake.”

On The Outside: Smile… Nod… Smile

On The Inside: “Listen… Lardass… I just watched you eat three pieces of that damn cake, then walk past the table and stuff handfuls of hors d’oeuvres into your shopping bag as well as your face, along with one of the unopened bottles of Champagne. If you don’t like yellow cake then don’t eat it. It’s not like I charged you for any of it, and by the way, I also noticed that you didn’t even buy a goddamned book, so shut the f*ck up and get out of my face before I kick your food stealing ass into next week.

Again, I would like to stress that YES, people really and truly have said the above things to me. There are plenty more too, but I’ll leave it at that. I think you get the idea…

So, the next time you see me nodding and smiling at someone, odds are I’m ripping on them in my head. Guess what? That’s exactly how I keep myself smiling…

More to come…

Murv