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.

When I was in high school I was a member of the Drama Club. We studied the fine art of acting, performed skits, and even put on plays. It was fun. As I’ve aged, however, drama has morphed into something else entirely, and I don’t find it fun in the least. I think you probably know the drama to which I refer. If you don’t then I envy you, because that means you haven’t been touched by it.

Now, I will grant you, sometimes this drama is amusing, but only in a really sad sort of way. Unfortunately, there are folks in the world who are addicted to strife. And, when I say addicted I mean it. So much so that if there isn’t any drama in their lives they will manufacture some in order to feed their need. Some of the worst offenders are what the pagan community refers to as “Fluffy Bunnies”.  In short, a “Fluffy Bunny” or “Fluff Bunny” is someone who is unwilling to accept that there is anything other than goodness and light in paganism. For them, any deviation from that is inherently wrong and evil. Whenever threatened by factual information that is not contained within the three chapters of the particular book they skimmed before declaring themselves High Priest/ess Aluminum Fairy Poo, they instantly launch into their mantra, “Persecution! Help, I’m being persecuted!”

You might think I am kidding, but unfortunately I am not. Granted, there are some other nuances and complexities to the bunnies, but the above is the overall gist.

Of course, fluff bunnies, like their Hassenpfeffer bound cousins, multiply at an alarming rate. One theory is that they do this because cutting up big ol’ fat lines of drama on a mirror and sucking it up through Monopoly money isn’t any fun if you are all by yourself. Therefore, these cotton tailed drama junkies will invite their friends into the mix, and before long you have a “drama house” on your block, complete with strung out dramaheads propped up against the wall, sucking on a drama pipe. Others will be passing a blimped out drama doob around the circle, getting all excited when a drama seed pops and shoots across the room. The really hardcore “fluffy thespians” are usually in the back, cooking up drama in a spoon over a goddess candle then mainlining it.

Now, this would be just fine if the drama was contained to the drama house, but it just never seems to stay there for long. Especially with the Internet at their disposal. Add social networking to the mix and you have yourself a drama pusher’s wet dream.

Case in point:

The Lost Abbey Witch’s Wit beer controversy.

If you haven’t heard about this, good for you. Once again, I envy that. But, being a part of the Pagan community – whether I self-identify as a Pagan or not (that’s a whole ‘nother blog), I get to hear about it. I even get invited to join the crusade.

In a nutshell, this Microbrewery in California puts out a seasonal selection called Witch’s Wit – “Wit” being a style of beer, specifically a Belgian Wheat Ale with fruit zests and spices added. A mainstream beer example – as much as it pains me to mention an AB product here – would be the Bud Light Wheat. While I haven’t sampled the Port Brewing/Lost Abbey Wit, I’m sure that it is far superior to the Bud Light. Craft beers always are… But, I digress…

The label on the bottle of Witch’s Wit features a rendering of a woman being burned at the stake while the nondescript faces of the crowd watch on. The text about the beer goes on to tell the “back story” behind the beer with tongue-in-cheek dark satire., highlighting the fact that such atrocities were just that, atrocities. The artwork is purposely surreal and the verbiage purposely over the top. While I will concede that someone with a condition such as Asperger’s Syndrome may be incapable of recognizing satire right off the bat, logic dictates that a company that is selling beer is not highly likely to publicly advocate burning people at the stake.

However, leave it to the drama-seeking fluff bunnies to jump all over this.

It is their contention that Port Brewing/Lost Abbey is advocating just that – witch burning. (BTW – in the interest of historical accuracy, during the inquisition burning was reserved for heretics and martyrs. NOT witches. The fluffies don’t believe that, but then, if it isn’t contained in the three chapters of that one book, yadda yadda…)

In addition to advocating witch burning, apparently they are also advocating violence against women – due to the fact that it is a woman in the artwork who is tied to the stake. Just ask the fluff bunnies. They have some amazing insight when it comes to surreal artwork and satire. They can see things the rest of us cannot. Hell, they have amazing insight about everything. It may come as a surprise to you, but per a swarming mass of “fluffies” out there, I am evil. Why? Because the main character in my novels, Rowan Gant, is a Witch. Well, that doesn’t make sense, does it? After all, aren’t they Witches too? Well yes, but the thing is, you have to think like a fluffy bunny. You see, even though I portray Witchcraft and Paganism in an accurate and positive light in my novels,  I write murder mystery/suspense thrillers. Operative word there, murder.  Dying. Blood. Horribleness and stuff. Eww…

I have been informed – and continue to be informed on some bizarre, random schedule – that having a Witch associated with murder (even though he is solving the murder, NOT committing it) is wrong, wrong, WRONG! I am supposed to be writing novels about healing the earth, goodness, light, and fairy dust.

Who knew?

And, I hate to say it, but the above is not an exaggeration. Yeah. Scary, eh?

But, back to the beer…

The Fluff Bunnies have gone so far overboard this time that the whole controversy made it to the New York Times. Can you imagine that? The NYT did a feature story on a Microbrewed Beer all because of a bunch of drama junkies who were having a slow day.

So, here’s my take on it: Normally I wouldn’t say anything. I’d just sit by and ignore you cotton-tails while you suck down your your dime bag of drama, then wander off in search of more. However, since you have elected to get all ridiculous and bring a jaundiced eye to bear upon ALL Pagans with your lunacy,  you have effectively managed to contaminate the rest of us with your stupid. Therefore, I’m going to chime in out of self-preservation. Quit whining. Seriously. Quit friggin’ whining and and pull up your big kid undies. If you don’t like the label on the beer, then don’t buy it. Grow the f*ck up. There’s a movement among some folks right now to boycott Port Brewing/Lost Abbey. Well, if that’s your thing, go for it. There’s your course of action. Boycott. If it bothers you that much, don’t buy it. More power to you. Join the Boycott Lost Abbey group on Facebook. Invite your friends. Invite me if you want, although I will obviously decline. Suffice it to say, a rational reaction to your dislike doesn’t bother me in the least, and I say go for it.

Unfortunately, I don’t have any choice in the matter as far as the  actual, physical boycotting goes since they don’t sell their beer anywhere close to me. But trust me, if they did I’d go buy one. And after drinking it, if I liked it I’d go back and buy more. I happen to like Wit Ales, and I am also rational enough to get the joke – as well as the underlying dig at the religious body responsible for the atrocity.

My real problem with all of this comes from the bunnies who are demanding that they change the label and keep spouting rhetoric like “I can’t believe they are being allowed to persecute Pagans like this!”

Give me a break…

And stop lumping all Pagans into your hutch. Some of us have a clue, and you need to get one.

Get over yourselves. It’s a bottle of beer. I haven’t seen any of you protesting Monty Python’s Holy Grail Ale. It’s been around for years, and it boasts right there on the label that it is “Tempered over burning witches.” Are THEY persecuting you too?

What about the “Flat Witch On The Door” Halloween decoration? What about MacBeth? Maybe we ought to dig up Shakespeare and give him a good talking to, ya’think? What about The Wizard Of Oz? Can’t have any green faced witches being melted by girls in gingham dresses – that’s just unacceptable!

Here’s a dose of reality: The only person(s) persecuting you is you and your ilk, because the more you run off at the mouth the more people are going to look at you like you’ve lost your ever loving mind. Fact is, you probably have, but that’s not something you want to go around broadcasting. Suck it up, don’t buy the beer, and get on with your life. Quit slandering the people, quit sending them emails calling them names, and quit demanding that they change something just because it doesn’t fit your myopic vision of the world – Gee… Sounds to me a lot like you’re the ones doing the persecuting.

Now, here’s my other issue with all of this – I was getting the nasty email from the bunnies long before this beer ever hit the market, so WTF?  Why am I getting left out in the cold? Apparently the bunnies have not raised a big enough stink about how evil I am, and how horrible my books are to portray a crime solving Witch, instead of a tree hugging, earth humping, crystal sucker.

So get on this stick, will ya’? I want some of that free publicity from the New York Times too…

More to come…

Murv