I like the Amish in the Spring-time.

My sister, Henrietta lives in Amish country, and sometimes I go to see her. I particularly like to go in April and May – though this year there may be snow through June. Manure in the fields smells horrid, but it’s the sweetest horrid smell I know. I also enjoy the hex signs on barns and occasionally seeing a black buggy with the incongruous orange triangle on the back.

Speaking of incongruous, have you ever seen Amish on rollerblades? It’s an accepted mode of travel according to their custom, and a real hoot to come across!

Back when Cral and I did the TV show, one of our songs was about such people who have the courage to be so different, and so add a bland but important spice to all of our lives. The tune is kind of like I Love Paris except the sizzles part, and the verses are completely different...

The tune is less unlike I Love Paris

than it's unlike many other tunes like Mary Had a Little Lamb

and Take a Chance on Me by ABBA.

I Like the Amish

words by Headley Hauser

tune stolen unfaithfully

(Chorus)

I like the Amish in the Spring-time

And those hearty Quakers in the Fall

The Mennonites so jaunty in the Summer

I’m sad that there’s no Shakers left to call

I like carpentry with Gunther

I’m giddy when I sew with Winifred

You’ve never partied till you’ve met the Swensons

They’re wild enough to paint the whole barn red

(repeat chorus)

Now Inga, she was such a rebel

With all she did, she risked the elder’s glower

She once took off racing on the plow horse

Got up to over seven miles an hour

(repeat chorus)

Herman, he was quite the vain one

And all admit his wardrobe had no lack

Once he went parading through the pasture

Dressed in nearly every shade of black

After the show ended, one of my two watchers emailed me to tell me that there were indeed a few Shakers up in Maine still. Of course by then I had my show’s cancellation to be sad about, but it was some consolation.

Here’s today’s video - which due to some foul-up on my end is related to the subject - Wield Al does a song about the Amish that also doesn't much resemble I Love Paris.

Wise Readers Wanted

Having battered heads with cranky old Walter Bego for the last few weeks, we've produce the first view-able version of Dirk Destroyer’s Less Destructive Brother. Now we need guinea pi… volunteers.

It’s a common misconception that writing is about writing – blogging is about writing – writing novels (or novellas) is about editing.

The rough draft of a story usually takes me about 6 weeks to do. It’s the most liberating, joyful 6 weeks or my otherwise sullen existence. The mind wanders far afield a bit like Danny Kaye's in Walter Mitty.

If there was a fairy god-mother for writers, she wouldn't wave her wand to give us ideas; she would wave her wand to turn rough drafts into finished copy.

After the rough draft is done (and the writer sobers up,) the draft is place in a drawer (or on a flash drive,) until much of the detail is forgotten (usually due to harassment from bill-collectors.) When it’s been sufficiently forgotten the first of four (yes, I said FOUR) edits is begun. Big changes happen in the first edit – characters change, the plot changes, everything changes except the writer’s clothes and generally poor hygiene as he/she is chained to the typewriter/word processor/desktop/laptop/tablet until the first edit is completed.

The second edit is the consultation edit. Chunks of brilliant manuscript is brutally cut and jettisoned by sadistic people like Walter Bego who scream inane statements like, “it doesn't move the narrative forward!” (whatever that means.)

Once the writer stops bleeding, he seeks out independent feedback – or wise readers. Wise readers are not profession editors – it’s better if they’re not editors or writers at all. All a wise reader needs to be is someone who likes to read, and recognizes when he or she feels annoyed. There are three things that writers do that especially annoy readers:

1: We Bore Them

2: We Confuse Them

3: We Say Stuff That Doesn't Make Sense (my favorite)

Most readers recognize when these things happen, and if they happen often enough, the writer’s proud effort loses its place on the reader’s bookshelf, and finds a new place amongst the emergency TP.

I need 2 more people to tell me when I bore them, confuse them, and when I say stuff that doesn't make sense (my favorite,) in the story – Dirk Destroyer’s Less Destructive Brother: Book 3 of the Genre Series – The Satire.

As it is a satire, anyone who loves politicians in general (many are skewered,) or John McCain or Al Gore particularly (who I gleefully brutalize,) might not wish to volunteer.

What Does It Pay?!?!?!?!?

(nothing)

But you are thanked officially in digitally pixilated print in the e-book, and I make a reasonable effort not to spell your name wrong.

Such a deal?

When I get the manuscripts back from you I do the third edit based on your wonderful complaints (wound me, beat me, make me feel cheap – please!)

Then GoFigureReads hires a proofreader to catch all the errors – (so you can ignore all the typos, grammatical errors, and misspelled words unless you enjoy that sort of thing,) and I do the final edit.

Finally we have – A Finished Story that you can brag about (or hide from people.) Either way, YOU have become an important part in the writing process!

Sound GLORIOUS to you? Then email me quickly before you come to your senses - gfreads@yahoo.com.

Stolen FB Pictures

Now that all the basketball fans have stopped coming to my blog because Google seems to think that's what I write about, see? I guess I should return to what my regulars seem to like the best.
    For me to shut up and show someone else's funny pictures.

Pictures of Peril

Yup

Just when you thought it was safe to return to the barn

Those shopping cart tenders have a mean streak.

Just don't send your friend down headfirst

Pictures of Seasons

This is why the early bird gets the worm, and the later bird gets to mate

Unfortunately - they don't call off work for pollen

Stupid is always in season

Word Play Pictures

The ones that don't text and fly

Another form of deadly cow kicking

Why don't we pay musicians the way we pay strippers?

Auto industry is clearly not keeping up with the tech sector

And Perspective

What are they saying about you in the boardroom?

Everything is Lucas

Cleanliness is a lonely business

That's the way the Canadians see us

There's always someone who has to top your bumper-sticker

And why does this make me feel better?

Speaking of feelings...

Here's a Young Robin Williams with a not-so-young Johnny Carson

Volition Man Chapter L the Conclusion

So this is the last installment of the dream sequence of Volition Man (available HERE.) If you want to see the first three installments you will find them here, here2 and here3.

Our hero, Dirgan Voleman has been dreaming. Inexplicably, (because I can’t stand explicing myself,) he is dreaming from the perspective of a Little Miss Muffet-type girl, and 25 dairy cows. Also inexplicably (for continuities sake,) he encounters his geriatric arch enemy, Eschi Evelite.

Volition Man Chapter L Part 4

(or IV if you’re classy... or a Super Bowl fan)

“You see,” said the spider, “my name is Eschi Evelite. We haven’t met formally, and I thought you should know that I am the cause of much of the trouble that is going on in Pollyville.”

Dirgan the little girl offered Eschi the spider some curds and whey.

“Thank you, no,” said the spider.

Dirgan the little girl didn't blame the spider, but still couldn't keep him-her-self from eating the chunky milk.

“I destroyed Detroit,” said Eschi the spider, “and I’m here to do the same to Pollyville. My accomplices are Whynter Yearghn, the Kool-Aid Guy who likes to be called Cyclothunderer, and Really Bad Guy, who just got cut from the Oakland Raiders practice squad and will be returning to Pollyville shortly.”

Dirgan the little girl nodded politely. Dirgan the… (well, let’s just say Dirgan seven) was disgusted with how insipidly stupid Dirgan the little girl seemed to be. It (she-he) decided to scratch a note to warn it themhimherself(selves) in the dirt with it’s/her/his hoof.

But cows can’t write. Dirgan seven mooed again, which caused Dirgan the first cow from the left, who was now, though not formerly, adjacent to Dirgan seven to kick it/her(him). Dirgan the formerly second but now third cow from the left (similarly repositioned relative to Dirgan seven) plopped a cow patty on (its)his/her hoof.

Dirgan seven didn't enjoy the kick, but found the cow patty warm and pleasant.

“Maybe,” said the spider, apparently ignoring the bovine interplay, “I could just kill you now in this stupid dream and not have to bother with you when some of us wake up.”

Dirgan the little girl knew this sounded very naughty. Dirgan seven tried to maneuver around so that (she)it(he) could kick the spider and save Dirgan the little girl. Unfortunately there were twenty-four other bovine Dirgans in her(its)his way, and they all appeared to be too stupid to understand what was going on.

Fortunately Dirgan the little girl didn't need Dirgan seven to save HhEiRm. A marionette with a cricket on its shoulder came down beside the spider. The marionette had the face of Granyard “Toast” Putter. The spider ate the head off the cricket and ambled off.

“I thure am glad,” said Dirgan the little girl with her annoying little girl lisp, “that you thaved me from the naughty thpider.”

Only Dirgan theven – er, seven – looked up the strings of the marionette to see a laughing ghost pulling those strings.

“This is really important,” said Dirgan seven to it, him, her self. “I have to remember this dream!” Dirgan seven concentrated with all the intellect afforded to dream cows to bring the details of the dream to the awakened Dirgan when he woke.

A few hours later, Dirgan awoke. For some reason that he couldn't explain, he started mooing urgently. He did this for several seconds.

And then he stopped.

“That’s odd,” said Dirgan to nobody in particular.

And that leads us to Chapter M which you will need to download Volition Man to see, cause… I guess you don’t need to download Volition Man – but I need the money, so that’s almost as important.

As I've done with the first three installments – here’s a (considerably older,) Bill Cosby telling a story.

Volition Man Chapter L Part 3 – Dirgan Meets Eschi (sort of)

As you can see by the title, this is the third installment of Chapter L from Volition Man (available here.) You can read the first two installments here and here2, or if you’re linkaphobic, I’ll tell you.

Dirgan Voleman, a man with a superpower related to his relative motivational strength is having a dream. Following a series of telling personal images, he has landed on a dreamland dairy farm where he is simultaneously a herd of 25 dairy cows, and a little girl eating something disturbing.

Volition Man Chapter L (Part 3)

“Blecchk!” Dirgan murmured in his sleep.

Was this sanitary? It wasn’t milk he (she) was eating, or cheese, or even yogurt. Dirgan didn’t like yogurt, but at least that was food. This was curds and whey, or as Dirgan had called it back when he (she) was a little boy – chunky milk.

The worst part was that he (she) was enjoying it.

Dirgan, who at that moment was conscious of being the seventh cow from the left, looked up. It wasn’t a natural thing for a cow to do, maybe that’s why the other twenty-four Dirgan cows plus the Dirgan little girl missed it. Dirgan the seventh cow from the left noticed a large spindly creature lowering itself from a nearby tree. The creature had eight legs and the head of an old man. It was coming down right beside Dirgan the little girl. Dirgan the seventh cow from the left said, “Mooo!”

Dirgans one through six and eight through twenty-five looked over at Dirgan the seventh cow from the left and wondered, “What’s his (her) problem?” Dirgan the little girl thought, with an annoying little-girl lisp, “The cowth are rethtleth,” that is, until (he) she saw the huge spider.

That’s when Dirgan the little girl wet him/her self.

Every instinct in Dirgan the little girl demanded that (s)he run away, but Dirgan had been through too many motivational seminars to quail at the sight of a hundred-and-fifty-pound spider.

“You’re not running away,” said the spider.

“I gueththth not,” said Dirgan the little girl with an even more annoying little girl lisp.

“Good,” said the spider, “because I have some things to tell you.”

Dirgan the little girl waited politely, though Dirgan the seventh cow from the left ambled closer, thereby becoming the second cow from the left, though in no way changing it’s (her) (his) consciousness of being Dirgan the seventh cow from the left. Dirgan the formerly and figuratively seventh cow from the left strained to hear what the spider had to say.

“You see,” said the spider, “my name is Eschi Evelite. We haven’t met formally, and I thought you should know that I am the cause of much of the trouble that is going on in Pollyville.”

This sounds like important stuff for Dirgan (the superhero, not the cow or the little girl,) to know for we are already aware the Eschi Evelite is a dangerous and evil man – well evil anyway – or more correctly 93% evil.

Anyway, I hope Dirgan is paying attention (of course I know if he is.) If you’d like to know, come back on Thursday for the concluding post to Chapter L!

For no apparent reason my companion videos to Chapter L have been vids of old Bill Cosby routines. Here’s another one.

Volition Man Chap L Part Two – Dirgan’s Dream

Volition Man (available here) is the second book in my Genre Series. I’ve been told by a friend and fellow writer that it doesn’t completely suck.

Well – what more do you need to know?

This is the second installment of Chapter L. If you want to start from the beginning, the first installment is here.

Chapter L Part Two

Dirgan fell asleep.

There wasn’t much happening for a while after that. Then Dirgan’s eyeballs started moving rapidly. Inside Dirgan’s brain, synapses fired and the similitude of music formed in his head. The music sounded something like Turkey in the Straw. Dirgan’s mouth grimaced; he didn’t like that tune. The music changed to the theme song from All in the Family. That was better. Images began forming in Dirgan’s unconscious mind. Spon Ghi, dressed in tuxedo and clown shoes, appeared on an old vaudeville-type stage.

“Welcome to Dirgan Voleman’s dream,” said Spon Ghi in a voice Dirgan had never heard him use before. It was an enthusiastic voice, like you might imagine a game show host would use… in Calcutta. “Our dream tonight is brought to you by Pepsi, the cola you have to buy if you don’t like Coke.”

“Pepsi,” murmured Dirgan’s sleeping lips.

“Also by,” said Spon Ghi, “Jack’s Magical Beans! Don’t have a cow, Man, get Jack’s Magical Beans.”

“The magical fruit,” murmured Dirgan’s lips.

Dagmar appeared on the stage with a giant cartoon hammer with which she flattened Spon Ghi in one great, fluid-filled splat. As she pulled the hammer up, Spon Ghi unfolded like an accordion, soaking up his bodily fluids as his figure rose. Dagmar and Spon Ghi repeated the process half a dozen times to raucous laughter from an audience that appeared suddenly around Dirgan. There was also a bag of popcorn in Dirgan’s hand.

“Popcorn,” murmured Dirgan.

A giant hook appeared from off-stage pulling Spon Ghi and Dagmar off stage. Apparently it pulled Dirgan, too, because suddenly he was in a space ship. He was flying near a Swiss cheese moon. A dish and a spoon were seated behind him.

“Step on it, Man,” said the spoon. “They’re gaining on us.”

The dish next to him just blushed. In the rearview mirror, a cat and a laughing dog were in a sleigh pulled by assorted dishes and cutlery. The cat was whipping on the utensils with a violin bow.

Dirgan looked around for the cow. There had to be a cow in a scene like this.

Suddenly there were lots of cows, and Dirgan seemed to be one of them. No, he was all of them. Dirgan felt the grass through a hundred cloven hooves, the digestive juices of twenty-five, four-compartmented, stomachs, and the yearning of twenty-five udders, with four teats each, needing to be milked.

But there was something else, and it made Dirgan a little dizzy. Not only was he twenty-five cows, but he was also a little girl sitting on a soft bag of wool and straw and spooning curdled milk into his (her) mouth.

“Blecchk!” Dirgan murmured in his sleep.

Sorry about leaving you with a bad taste in your mouth. Who knows what indignities await our hero? Come back Monday for part 3!

Last time I gave you a completely unrelated video by Bill Cosby. I might as well make it a trend.