Dirk Destroyer's Less Destructive Brother part One Stuff Not To Read

This is the first installment of many in the serializations of Dirk Destroyer's Less Destructive Brother, the third book in my Genre series - the Satire. Like both of the genre books that preceded it, Dirk Destroyer begins with...

Stuff Not To Read

Author’s Note

This is a work of satire.

Whatever else you might think of this story, keep this in your mind – this is a work of satire.

Satire – keep that in mind.

Do I care about satire? Do I have an appreciation of the importance of satire in the maelstrom of political movements since ancient Greece? Could I even give you a good definition of satire?

No.

So why, you might ask, and if you did, I might listen, am I writing a satire story, and secondarily, why am I going to such pains to make certain you know that the story is satire – which it is, by the way – no doubt about it.

Lawyers.

Some of you have nodded your heads and understood completely, but as you are also the people who will go on and choose a better novel from your local online (local online?) bookstore, I will explain myself for the dim bulbs who are more likely to buy one of my books.

(Oh, but you’re such cute dim bulbs. Remember, romantic dinners and really good naps rarely occur under 250 watt floodlights.)

For some reason, and don’t ask because I don’t understand it myself, the litigious community of gold-digging law professionals have chosen one category of expression to be the alle-alle-in-come-free from the plague of litigious abuse that they have rained down on this country since the apple tree sued George Washington. Those of you paying attention may have already guessed that the holy safe ghouls I speak of is satire.

You can say ANYTHING about ANYBODY in satirical form and get away with it! All you have to do is change one letter of their name, or exaggerate one feature on their image, pretend to make some vague political point, and you are home free.

So what is my political point?

Can I pretend I didn’t hear that question?

No? All right, for the moment, my political point is that most political points are stupid, and that most politicians are ugly doo-doo dumb-heads.

If that doesn’t work, I’ll figure something out by the end of the story.

Editor’s Note

Customarily, an editor/publisher sends out advanced copies of a new book to prominent citizens in hopes of getting cover blub (I laughed, I cried, I couldn’t put it down… God (heaven.)) Their highest hope is to find someone who will write a prestigious foreword for the book.

We got plenty of feedback when we sent out Dirk Destroyer’s Less Destructive Brother, unfortunately, we didn’t get permission to use any of it for cover blurb. We’ve decided to include some of these comments here, but in order to hide the commentator’s identity (and to avoid law suits,) we will only use each person’s initials and location:

“Dithspicable…”

Sen. J.M. (Washington, D.C.)

“I’d tell you what I think, but it wouldn’t be prudent…”

fmr Pres. G.H.W.B. (Kennebunkport, ME)

“I’m just glad a Democrat didn’t write it…”

fmr Pres. J.C. (Planes, GA)

“I didn’t get it…”

VP J.B. (Washington, D.C.)

“Somebody ask Frank what he did with my bell book and candle.”

H.H. B. XVI (retired) (Vatican, Rome)

“It made me want to be a Muslim so I could declare Jihad…”

Rev. B.G. (Montreat, NC)

“I don’t have that job anymore. I don’t have to read stuff…”

fmr Pres. G.W.B. (lost somewhere)

“It’s just what I was talking about when I said the west was doomed…”

(the ghost of) O.B.L. (hell)

“Not enough chicks…”

fmr Pres. B.C. (Hooters)

So you can see our problem. As a result, we have turned (as we have done before,) to a fictional character to write our foreword. In spite of the fact that fictional characters are technically incapable of refusing to do anything, a number changed their phone numbers, and twitter accounts long enough for us to settle on Ralph, better known as Slime Monster, from the not quite so bad Headley Hauser novella, Volition Man, Defender of Pollyville and Surrounding Towns.

Foreword

Hello? Can you read me?

Hello, my name is Ralph, though to be accurate, my name at the time of mitosis was Canaramma Meat-Flavored La…

Maybe it’s not such a good idea to write out my original name in case you’re reading this aloud, as it will send one of us careening across the galaxy, and as I am fictional and gelatinous, I am more likely to go careening than you are.

Other than the Declaration of Independence, I have not read any earth literature before, and I feel confident in saying that if you have read the Declaration of Independence, you will find Dirk Destroyer’s Less Destructive Brother different on many points. For one thing, all of the s’s are not shaped like f’s.

I found that ufeful.

So that’s the positive points to the story.

I noticed that no humans in this story go to the bathroom. The rat-bird and the sheep quite properly defecate regularly, but the humans go through their busy adventures without pausing to purge. People clean themselves either through water-flow, or the use of physics, but elimination of waste products (with the exception of one reference to a doodie centuries before) does not occur. I must tell you that from my limited understanding of human anatomy, this is very unhealthful. Please humans, eliminate your waste products! Were I back on earth, knowing what I know now, I would create one of those public service announcements. It is not gold – do not hoard it!

Ah, regrets.

There is nothing else of note that I gleaned from this story.

Respectfully – Ralph

Author’s Second Note

In times past, Go Figure Reads has intentionally sabotaged my efforts with faint praise, and unhelpful forewords.

Sigh, this time, I have to agree.

Worst Novel Ever?

You decide.

Next Friday we start the story - or Stuff to Read. If you forgot to download the first two books in the series when it was free this week, Amazon will be happy to accept two hundred and ninety-nine pennies (or digitally electrical facsimiles thereof,) to download each now.  Volition Man  Trouble in Taos

And now, the video.

Pacifism and Misc.

Have you ever noticed that you can’t spell PACIFIST without making a FIST?

That’s all I have to say about pacifism in spite of it being in my title. I don’t know much about it, and I don’t want to insult the pacifists and start a fight. So this post is really much more about misc than pacifism – meaning that it’s a bunch of unrelated items, none of which is big enough to be expanded into a post of its own.

Like this:

Decades ago, the state of Wisconsin decided it was time to replace America’s Dairyland on their license plates. They asked the public for suggestions. One citizen, let’s call him Harvey Curdcrusher, expressed admiration for New Hampshire’s slogan, “Live Free or Die,” (impressed on their plates by incarcerated felons.) He suggested that Wisconsin adapt a similar slogan, “Eat Cheese or Die.”

Another helpful citizen, let’s call her Hildegard Wheystrainer, thought the purpose of the license plate slogan was to encourage tourism. In that effort, she recommended, “Come Smell Our Dairy Air.” (Those of you who took High School French, try saying that out loud.)

I don’t promise that this really happened – just that I believed it when I heard it.

In a similar vein:

Perhaps twenty years ago Canada reorganized their tundranous territories in order to give the impression that people actually lived there. They decided that to make provinces, or provincials or something like that of what used to be called the Northwest territories. That meant that the Northwest Territories couldn’t be called the Northwest Territories anymore. The great Canadian poo-bahs in Ottawa decided to poll the burgeoning populace about possible names, take the two most popular and decide between them in a ballot. Maybe they decided to do this because it had worked so well with Wisconsin, (who you will note, still uses the phrase, “America’s Dairyland” on their plates.)

The most popular response was… Northwest Territories which either shows that bitter cold saps the imagination or that it makes you cranky with bureaucrats who can’t just leave well enough alone.

The number two response (thanks to a slick internet campaign, back when many people in rural Canada hadn’t yet seen a computer,) was Bob. No other response got enough votes to compete with Northwest Territories and Bob.

The proponents of Bob argued that it was a word that meant the same thing in English, French, and every Native American dialect present in the Northwest Territories, (or Bob.)

My haggard (and now quoted without permission,) supervisor at the time thought that Bob was a fine name for a province as long as they named the capital, Yessiree.

And now this reflection on aging:

When I was a youngster, I dreamed of running fast and easy.

When I was in my twenties, I dreamed of fast and easy women.

When I hit forty, I dreamed of making fast and easy money.

Now as I approach sixty, I dream of fast and easy bowel movements.

And that’s all the misc that’s fit to post.

All I know about Pacifism I learned from British comedy.  Now if someone could please explain British comedy.

Vanity, Thy Name Is Motorist

Back when I was a kid – (shortly after the invention of fire, shortly before the invention of bunt cakes,) you could tell those with more money than brains by looking at their vehicle tags. The tip-off was if the plate, rather than a random collection of numbers and letters, actually spelled something like BOBSCADDY.

A number of things have changed over the last half century. First, there are far fewer people named Bob – especially under thirty. Second, fewer people brag about having a Cadillac. Third, there is a cumulative crap-load of vanity plates out on the road.

So – has the maxim changed? Are vanity plates no longer for people with more money than brains? If we answer in the negative and the maxim holds, does that mean there is a great deal more money out there, or far fewer brains?

I’ll leave those questions to the more contemplative – perhaps we’ll ask the one person under thirty named Bob – if we can find her.

Sociological contemplatives aside – vanity plates can be fun.  Many are just straight-forward.

Right - got it.

Pauli Shore has offered his entire fortune (nearly a hundred dollars,) for the rights to this one.

I think we could have figured that out on our own.

Stay clear of puddles

I suspect this driver just doesn't like tailgaters.

Some are playing the game of - what can I get away with at the DMV?

In Minnesota?  She/he must be cold.

This is why some people still buy large sedans.

This driver likes to meet new people - with side-arms and Breathalyzer kits.

The classic upside-down message.

And backwards, of course

Nothing to see here - All Bengal fans itch.

The ones I like best are those that incorporate other features to make their message - either added on...

Or within the plate itself.

A little repressed evil in this plate?

Or maybe not so repressed.

Maybe the maxim has changed.  Maybe in this era people just feel a greater need to express themselves.  It might be in their DNA

But I wouldn't rule out darker possibilities.

And more plates in our video.

Those of you paying attention may have noticed this post is about 30 hours after the customary Monday time.  I've had a scheduling change.  If you want your stupidity fresh off my Windows 98 wonder-laptop, look for updates now on Tuesdays and Fridays.