Just Plain Stupid Year (3) in Review

I know, it’s February, not December. Putting together a year in review post seems out of place.

But not in a Just Plain Stupid world.

My first post for JPS was February 28^th 2013. There are now over 300 posts on this blog, and I, for one, am surprised. I never thought I had so much to say, even if most of it was useless dribble.

This Year’s Failures

The dribble has flowed slower this year, and so I began the immensely unpopular serialization of Dirk Destroyer’s Less Destructive Brother. S.B. and someone I don’t know from Russia faithfully read each post of Dirk, so it hobbles along. If you’re off your meds and wish to start reading this Donald Trump-less political satire set in a world inundated by sheep, here’s a link to the firstinstallment, and better yet, here’s a link to the firstinstallment that has anything to do with the story.

Several posts other than Dirk Destroyer have failed to attract attention this year; many because they didn’t deserve any, but a few I thought were worth reading. Tricycle Baskets Full of Evil falls in that latter category, along with Apply Yourself, and the not-yet-immortal story of Mortimer the Drop of Goo.

This Year’s Successes???

Picture posts – those stolen from FB, or taken from tee shirts or catalogs have always been among my more popular subjects, along with guest posts from other Go Figure Reads writers.

So I should just shut up and plagiarize?

Particularly surprising was the popularity of Will Wright’s rant about his bad cruise on Royal Caribbean, but less surprising was Walter Bego’s lionization of the art of Terry Gilliam.

Unfortunately for my more faithful readers, I remain incapable to taking a hint. I continue to write a few posts with a minimum of plagiarism, and some of them have done well (if sickening large numbers of people can be defined as doing well.)

Gloves vs. Mittens preyed on the public’s fascination with celebrity, and I exploited my brother’s secrets in the post, Horatio.

Clearly, many of my readers would prefer Horatio to be the Hauser that writes this blog.

The top post of this third year, Body Part Insults (written with assistance by Kim Webb,) was based on an ill-advised Facebook post of a Grammy award nominated FB friend who probably wishes now that A) she hadn’t posted her desire to not insult our noble excretory system when addressing jerks, and (especially) B) that she hadn’t clicked ‘accept’ to my friend request.

But even Body Parts can’t hold a candle to the most popular post of the life of this blog, Basketball, BWG, but no Little Debbie Twinkie, which I wrote very early on in the first year.

So much for showing progress.

I’d like to thank you each personally for reading my blog, but I don’t want to risk the ensuing storm of rotten vegetation (or worse.) As we limp into year Four there’s always the hope that somewhere along the line I’ll learn to write good stuff.

Or at least learn to shut up and plagiarize.

So for the video I looked up Best of 2015 on youtube and got this.  These are toys, right?

Apply Yourself!

I smelled a rat.

Of course you don't tell your mother you smell a rat when she tells you to do something. I was in sixth grade; I had an English composition due. Mom had cleared the dining room table where I wouldn't be disturbed. She'd laid out a blotter, my composition paper and a pen. She sat me down in front of that scariest of inanimate objects - the blank page, and said.

"Now just apply yourself. Get something down on paper."

She left me alone in that room, renowned for Thanksgiving dinners and birthday cakes. It was a happy room - until it became a prison.

I grabbed the pen and stared at the paper. My brother was upstairs listening to the Moody Blues. I waved the pen, directing the orchestra bits.

"No," I said. "I have to apply myself!"

I started wondering where that phrase came from. Did it have anything to do with job applications?

"No!" I said audibly. "I have to apply myself."

The chair wobbled. I got up to look at it. The little nub on the bottom of one of the legs was missing. I checked all the other chairs in the room. Each one had all its nubs. How do you lose a chair nub? Did the factory forget to put it on, or were there insects that ate chair nubs? Maybe chair nubs were actually tiny space ships that docked on the bottom of dining room chairs because they knew they wouldn't be noticed coming or going... except on Thanksgiving or birthdays.

"What are you doing?"

"Huh?"

Mom stood there holding a glass of Hi C, a drink I couldn't stand, but it was what I was supposed to like, so I drank it.

"Why are you looking under the table?"

I considered answering, but I didn't think that alien chair nubs was going to sound like I was working on my school essay.

"Let's see what you have," said Mom. She stepped over to my paper. "Headley! You haven't even started!"

"I was thinking."

"Think on paper," said Mom. "Sit down. Don't move until you have half a page. Apply yourself!"

I sat down. Mom put the Hi C on a coaster next to me and kissed the top of my head.

And I sat there, tapping my pen on the blotter and drinking a fruit drink that tasted like plastic sweetened by salty beet juice.

My essay was supposed to be 100 words. It ended up being 78, including the title: I Really, Really, Really, Really Have Nothing To Write About, by Headley Hauser.

The teacher gave me a D. At least it didn't hurt my average.

Now I write all the time. I might write about Thanksgiving dinners and birthday cakes, conducting the Moody Blues with a ball point pen, the origins of the word, 'apply yourself,' insects that eat furniture, tiny aliens that fly around in the nubs of dining room chairs, or crappy foods that Madison Avenue convinces kids they should like.

When I get stuck, I stand up. I wander around the room. I listen to what's going on around me, and I look at stuff.

If anyone asks me what I'm doing, I tell them I'm writing.

But I never, never, never, never say that I'm applying myself.

This would have worked much better on my last post