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.

The Popefying of Francis

Welcome Pope Frank!

I guess Pope Benedict was too pooped to continue popeing.

Like so many things, religious, the choosing of a pope is shrouded in mystery, requiring mental imagery, rather than broadcast-ready action and drama.

At the same time, it’s an ancient spectator sport – a bit sedate, but far less deadly than most of the games from the late Roman Empire. We join together and focus on a port-a-chimney placed atop the Sistine Chapel, and wait to see what 100 guys in red hats are smoking. We cheer for the white smoke (usually Jamaican, but maybe this time, Argentinean.) I’m never disappointed by the black smoke though. It means OVERTIME, and the secondary high keeps on going.

Of course, I’m not in Rome, and as my buddy didn’t order the hi-def smell feature on his new flat-screen, all my hopes of rockin’ with the Vatican went up without smoke.

(Children – Headley Hauser in no way endorses the use of illegal substances for recreational purposes, be it marijuana, papal ballots, or shiitake mushrooms, diced fine, dried with chive, oregano, and a light vinaigrette.)

(First time I’ve ever written ‘shiitake’ in anything – pretty disgusting mental imagery)

Forty-odd (or even) years ago, Tom Lehrer wrote a song, The Vatican Rag.

 

Make a cross on your abdomen

When in Rome, do like a Roman

Ave Maria

Gee it’s good to see ya.

Doin’ the Vatican Rag

 

(copyright Vatican Rag by Tom Lehrer MCML something-something)

Professor Lehrer offered his paean to Catholic propagation in a time of significant change for the Holy Roman Catholic Church. His thinking (as he said on his album,) was that if the church really wanted to sell the product, it needed to appeal to the people in the modern vernacular. He then presented a song in a musical style that was a generation and a half out-of-date.

These are different times for the Rome team. People aren’t talking Vatican 2 anymore (so good – you’ll forget all about Vatican 1.)

They’re pissed.

They’re pissed about discrimination, gay rights, birth control, abortion, the price of gas (which I’m told has nothing to do with Church, but it’s bugging me, so I’m including it.)

They’ve also just about had enough of ‘celibate’ priests instructing the youth in ways not found in the catechism. Of course priests have been doing this as long as Cardinals have been smoking papal ballots, and reformers have repeatedly discussed putting an end to it. Maybe we’ve reached the two millennia procrastination limit.

Recent popes have been firm, but apologetic in their response to this growing dissatisfaction. Pope John Paul 2 (who hung out nearly thirty years in the funny hat to make up for the first John Paul, who skipped the mortal coil before the lacquer on his ruby slippers was dry,) was so sweet and endearing that people almost forgot why they’d been genuflecting with middle finger extended.

That was not going to work long-term. How many guys in Cardinal University (or is it still just a college?) remind you of your favorite childhood teddy-bear?

I think the blessed Tom Lehrer – may he rest on his couch (‘cause I think he’s still alive – though freaky old. If he’s dead, the couch might not be the best place for him.) had the right idea in bringing out-dated musical forms to the church issues of the day. Using his of out-of-date algorithm (he did teach math,) our generation and a half interval leaves us with a wonderful selection of music from the late 60s through the early 80s.

But the tone has to change as well as the form. The Vatican Rag was upbeat, optimistic – you could almost see the dancing altar boys, glad-hands flashing (careful with those mental images, Friar.) The firm but apologetic approach won’t work either, not only is it unworkable, it severely limits the music available.

Remember the classic Ali-Forman fight years before George started selling hamburger makers?

Well, it looks like the Cardinals decided they’ve been riding the ropes long enough – no more pope-a-dope. They picked a Jesuit. Time to kick some acolytes!

So what theme can we create for our new Pope Frank?

I’d eliminate Barry Manilow off the top – his music doesn’t fit, and everybody out there secretly wants to eliminate Barry Manilow.

(Mental image of B.M. being eliminated – is he gone? Don’t forget to flush.)

Even without Barry’s one hundred and sixty-seven identical chants, we still have a number of potential anthems for our pleasantly pugilistic Pope.

What about (Every) Mother’s Son Bites the Dust?

(Bit of a stretch? What was I going to change it to – Another Nun Bites the Dust? No, I don’t like hate mail unless it’s from people giving me money.) All you need is to add a few smells and bells, and it sounds aggressively liturgical.

Play That Funky Music, Padre would have the dual effect of intimidation, and getting congregants groovin’ on those kneelers instead of scooting to the front of their seats and faking it.

There has to be a way to adapt Everybody Was Kung-Fu Fighting. You like that one Papa Frank? I’ll work on it for you.

Maybe you could even turn around that back-room altar-boy problem with a little James Brown - Get Up (I Feel Like Being A) Sex Monsignor.

?

Maybe not? Just throwing it out there.