Best of Circle Jerk at the Square Dance.
Originally published February 14, 2008
Rule 1: Have a passion for evilSo many pursue evil science for the superficial reasons: power, wealth, and infamy. But while those rewards are ignoble, to be a successful evil scientist, you have to follow your heart and find true heartlessness. Most evil graduate programs are in lonely, isolated places—old castles, uncharted islands, under water. Those near populated areas tend to attract the scorn of the local citizens and the attention of authorities. Even the most evil of graduate students can’t help but feel a little bit alone and alienated. A true passion for evil will carry you through those rough spots until you can turn the tables on those all those bastards who said you were mad.
Rule 2: Select the right evil mentor, project, and laboratory
Finding the right evil mentor can be difficult, as they may be in hiding or incarcerated. Furthermore, nearly all evil scientists are selfish and untrustworthy, which tends to undermine the mentoring process. Ask around to see if the one you wish to work with will foster the positive learning environment you need to promote evil. Talk to henchmen, thugs, security forces, submarine crews, and even former damsels in distress.
The nature of the project is equally important. What is incredibly evil today can be laughably harmless tomorrow. Avoid selecting trendy research areas, such as Martian sciences and journeys to the center of the earth, which can become dated very quickly. Also, consider whether your project will even seem evil. A nude bomb or orgasmatron, while extremely evil to some voter demographics, may actually be embraced by others.
Finally, the laboratory should match your research interests. For instance, those interested in re-animation should look for dust, cobwebs, and Van der Graaf generators. Researchers in evil androids will want laboratories that look futuristic and, if possible, are made of white plastic. And doomsday graduate students will want to work as far away from their geographic subject areas as possible.
Rule 3: Independent, stubborn thinking is the stock trait of a true evil scientist
A scientist who solicits the opinions of others, listens carefully to their suggestions, and acts on the recommendations wouldn’t seem very evil. Always ignore the advice of even your closest comrades, particularly when they offer sound suggestions like killing a nemesis quickly and verifying his or her death.
Rule 4: Balance your evil life
There’s an old saying that an evil scientist who always works is truly mad. Take time away from the lab to balance out your villainy. Hunt humans for sport, open a mink farm, or work with your local city council to bring a Wal-Mart to your town. It’s all about balance.
Rule 5: Think ahead and develop your evil career early
To be an evil scientist, you have to let everyone know, early on, that you are a force to be feared and reviled. Work on your evil laugh, develop presentations that clearly express your deviousness, and demand sums of money that will be both shocking yet not inconceivable. Consider learning the audio-video skills needed to hijack broadcasting equipment to beam your message to every man, woman, and child, or look to outsource this work to a certified evil contractor such as a cable company.
You also need to think about what you plan to do with your evil research, if that field is lucrative, and if your current studies will fulfill those requirements. For instance, a career in Bond Villainy offers unending job possibilities, but also requires a multidisciplinary approach. Don’t wait to develop those skills until after you complete your studies, because by that time you will probably be wanted by the authorities.
Rule 6: Always reevaluate your work for its evilness
This may seem simple, but what is considered evil can change over time. A horrifying Brave New World can become an enticing brave new biotech investment option on the Nasdaq. Make sure what you’re doing inspires horror, not IPOs.
Rule 7: Find flaws in your research before the good guys show up
There is nothing worse than trapping your nemesis, cackling maniacally, and pressing a big red button, only to have nothing happen. Test your evil science constantly. Railroad yards, communes, and office cubicles provide endless sources of human subjects who won’t be missed and will probably go without a fight.
Rule 8: Share your evil genius with the world
No man is an island, and likewise no evil scientist should keep his hellish army of man-beasts on an island. Keeping your evil work to yourself is a crime.
Rule 9: Kill anyone who points out flaws in your research
While Rule 7 shows the importance of finding flaws in your research, it’s important that everyone a) knows that you are in charge and b) knows you are inherently evil. The sooner you demonstrate this, the better. The first time someone corrects or questions your work, it is vital that you kill them immediately in order to promote the productivity and focus of those in your lab.
Rule 10: Demonstrate your readiness for graduation by destroying your mentor with your work
Once all your research is completed, your critics dead, and your subjects killed or hideously mutated, you are ready to graduate. Gather your mentor and anyone else involved with your work and unleash your research on them. If they are also killed or hideously mutated, congratulations, you now have your Ph.D. in evil science!
But remember: be wary of evil doctorate students asking you to mentor them.
Showing posts with label Like Shouts and Murmurs but funny. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Like Shouts and Murmurs but funny. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 01, 2015
Friday, December 23, 2011
The Ron Paul Holiday Newsletter
Hello, friends. Ron Paul here. I hope everyone is having a wonderful time preparing for Christmas or celebrating Chanukah, although if you are celebrating Chanukah, you should really consider converting to Christianity. I would hate to see such a prosperous, thrifty, shrewd people as the Jews spend eternity in endless hellfire because of their deicide of our Lord and Savior. Really, it’s just four Gospels, a few letters, and some pretty entertaining revelations, so why not?
Like all of you, I am dreaming of a White Christmas, and not in the meteorological sense, if you catch my drift. And by drift, I mean racial and religious overtones. Think of how much better this country would be if, after a long day of shopping for presents and gorging yourself on eggnog and sitting on Santa Claus’s lap, you could freely express the Christian sentiment of the holiday by saying, “Merry Christmas” to your fellow white Christians. You wouldn’t have to worry if someone would be offended because they were Jewish or if they were only saying “Merry Christmas” because they were debating whether to steal your presents. I’m not talking about the Jews in the latter example, of course. They would just buy your presents at a fraction of the price you paid. I’m talking about the blacks.
Now, friends, I know lately some have accused me of wanting to start a race war. That is hogwash. First, I abhor war, not so much for the killing as for the price tag and that you have to wear a uniform. No self-respecting Libertarian would pay for the experience of being told what to do, wear, and kill. I am also not a monster and don’t want to actually kill black Americans. I just want them to go away. You know how you may have a friend you used to like, but then you don’t like them, so you start to ignore them in the hopes they will take the hint and stop asking you to do things for them, like give them welfare or stop when they hail a cab? Most smart people would take the hint and maybe head to Liberia, but you know what they say about non-whites and smarts. So I instead think we should maybe give out welfare in the form of vouchers for plane tickets to Africa. I think that’s very generous and that while coach is no picnic, it beats being in the bowels of a ship for three months. Am I right?
Some of you may say, “Dr. Paul, some of the casual acquaintances that I say are my best friends are black. Wouldn’t it be wrong to deport them?” First, thank you for calling me Dr. Paul. Maybe if more rap songs advocated that kind of politeness and obeying local law enforcement officers, we wouldn’t even have to discuss this voucher business. Second, it is not wrong. Look, even some of my best friends are huge drains on the system, because they take and take without giving. Look at my very good friend Herman Cain, who is black. He was accused of sexual harassment because he wanted women to provide him with sexual gratification. Except for that one woman he groped, he jumped straight into his pleasure. That’s a very big government approach to getting off. Instead, he should have offered nipple or clitoral stimulation first, to set up an exchange for penile pleasure. That’s just good free market practice. Although, I want to make it clear, I do not advocate free love. Like many Libertarians, I believe in preserving my precious bodily fluids and not just giving them away for free. I expect a commitment to at least a clean house, three daily prepared meals, and anniversary fellatio. That’s the kind of romantic exchange we should demand from the invisible hand of the free market.
Now, where was I? Oh, yes, the blacks. Would I be sad to see some of them go? Of course. Like many of you, I have great respect for Colin Powell, Greg Gumbel (although not that hate whitey brother of his), and Carlton from The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. But the truth is that we don’t need them now that we have Mexicans. They do everything we expect of blacks for a fraction of the price, from agriculture to making us feel superior. Even in two areas where blacks dominate disproportionately, sports and entertainment, we can still use Mexicans instead. Instead of Barry Bonds, we have Albert Pujols. Instead of Whitney Houston, Jennifer Lopez. Instead of Bill Cosby, George Lopez. And thanks to God’s glorious creations of Tim Tebow and Miley Cyrus, coupled with tremendous advances in cloning, we soon may be able to return sports and entertainment to their Caucasian roots, just like the Bible says. Then we’ll be able to build that 2,000-mile-long wall of fire along our Southern border that’s been on my Christmas list for thirty years
So, friends, as we celebrate this holiest of holidays (or should be celebrating, if you catch my drift, my Jewish friends), I wish you a very Merry White Christmas. And, in the spirit of giving, won’t you please consider donating to my campaign? After all, I am the only candidate fighting for the things you people believe in (as opposed to the things those people believe in). All I ask is that you not send federal greenbacks but make your donations in gold specie or through my new Internet service, PayPaul.
Sincerely,
Ron Paul
Please note: The views expressed by Ron Paul in The Ron Paul Holiday Newsletter may not actually be the views expressed by Ron Paul the presidential candidate. Ron Paul’s name on the masthead and his signature are by no means an endorsement of the ideas expressed here, unless those ideas would convince you to vote for Ron Paul, in which case he’s not saying he doesn’t support them. In fact, let’s just say that Ron Paul had absolutely nothing to do with this newsletter at all, except that he would really, really love it if you would contribute to his campaign.
Like all of you, I am dreaming of a White Christmas, and not in the meteorological sense, if you catch my drift. And by drift, I mean racial and religious overtones. Think of how much better this country would be if, after a long day of shopping for presents and gorging yourself on eggnog and sitting on Santa Claus’s lap, you could freely express the Christian sentiment of the holiday by saying, “Merry Christmas” to your fellow white Christians. You wouldn’t have to worry if someone would be offended because they were Jewish or if they were only saying “Merry Christmas” because they were debating whether to steal your presents. I’m not talking about the Jews in the latter example, of course. They would just buy your presents at a fraction of the price you paid. I’m talking about the blacks.
Now, friends, I know lately some have accused me of wanting to start a race war. That is hogwash. First, I abhor war, not so much for the killing as for the price tag and that you have to wear a uniform. No self-respecting Libertarian would pay for the experience of being told what to do, wear, and kill. I am also not a monster and don’t want to actually kill black Americans. I just want them to go away. You know how you may have a friend you used to like, but then you don’t like them, so you start to ignore them in the hopes they will take the hint and stop asking you to do things for them, like give them welfare or stop when they hail a cab? Most smart people would take the hint and maybe head to Liberia, but you know what they say about non-whites and smarts. So I instead think we should maybe give out welfare in the form of vouchers for plane tickets to Africa. I think that’s very generous and that while coach is no picnic, it beats being in the bowels of a ship for three months. Am I right?
Some of you may say, “Dr. Paul, some of the casual acquaintances that I say are my best friends are black. Wouldn’t it be wrong to deport them?” First, thank you for calling me Dr. Paul. Maybe if more rap songs advocated that kind of politeness and obeying local law enforcement officers, we wouldn’t even have to discuss this voucher business. Second, it is not wrong. Look, even some of my best friends are huge drains on the system, because they take and take without giving. Look at my very good friend Herman Cain, who is black. He was accused of sexual harassment because he wanted women to provide him with sexual gratification. Except for that one woman he groped, he jumped straight into his pleasure. That’s a very big government approach to getting off. Instead, he should have offered nipple or clitoral stimulation first, to set up an exchange for penile pleasure. That’s just good free market practice. Although, I want to make it clear, I do not advocate free love. Like many Libertarians, I believe in preserving my precious bodily fluids and not just giving them away for free. I expect a commitment to at least a clean house, three daily prepared meals, and anniversary fellatio. That’s the kind of romantic exchange we should demand from the invisible hand of the free market.
Now, where was I? Oh, yes, the blacks. Would I be sad to see some of them go? Of course. Like many of you, I have great respect for Colin Powell, Greg Gumbel (although not that hate whitey brother of his), and Carlton from The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. But the truth is that we don’t need them now that we have Mexicans. They do everything we expect of blacks for a fraction of the price, from agriculture to making us feel superior. Even in two areas where blacks dominate disproportionately, sports and entertainment, we can still use Mexicans instead. Instead of Barry Bonds, we have Albert Pujols. Instead of Whitney Houston, Jennifer Lopez. Instead of Bill Cosby, George Lopez. And thanks to God’s glorious creations of Tim Tebow and Miley Cyrus, coupled with tremendous advances in cloning, we soon may be able to return sports and entertainment to their Caucasian roots, just like the Bible says. Then we’ll be able to build that 2,000-mile-long wall of fire along our Southern border that’s been on my Christmas list for thirty years
So, friends, as we celebrate this holiest of holidays (or should be celebrating, if you catch my drift, my Jewish friends), I wish you a very Merry White Christmas. And, in the spirit of giving, won’t you please consider donating to my campaign? After all, I am the only candidate fighting for the things you people believe in (as opposed to the things those people believe in). All I ask is that you not send federal greenbacks but make your donations in gold specie or through my new Internet service, PayPaul.
Sincerely,
Ron Paul
Please note: The views expressed by Ron Paul in The Ron Paul Holiday Newsletter may not actually be the views expressed by Ron Paul the presidential candidate. Ron Paul’s name on the masthead and his signature are by no means an endorsement of the ideas expressed here, unless those ideas would convince you to vote for Ron Paul, in which case he’s not saying he doesn’t support them. In fact, let’s just say that Ron Paul had absolutely nothing to do with this newsletter at all, except that he would really, really love it if you would contribute to his campaign.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Transcript of President Bush’s Address to Israel’s Knesset
Shalom. That’s Jewish for howdy.
Thank you very much for the opportunity to speak to you today. And thank you very much for the bagels this morning. Or as I call them, Jewnuts. Like doughnuts, but Jewier. I also have to hand it to you, you’re Zagnuts for security. This morning, someone asked me if I wanted lox on my bagel. I said no, because who’s going to steal a bagel? But I appreciate the extra precautionation.
We have a lot in common, Israel and America. The Old Testament. An appreciation of Schindler’s List. Jerry Seinfeld. And a distrust of brown people.
We’re really like buddies in an action move. I like action movies. Lots of action, not so much talking, and even when there’s talking, it’s talking about action. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you can’t solve anything by talking. You got to shoot your way out of a problem or else the bad guys win.
Like buddies, we get on each other’s nerves a little. I’m always asking you to accept Jesus Christ as your personal savior, and you’re always throwing my pork in the garbage. Although maybe I’d be a little lighter if I kept that cashmere diet like you folks. Anyway, even when buddies disagree, they still have each other’s backs.
But there’s somebody else in my country who’s not your buddy. Not going to name names, but he’s buddies with the other brown peoples, because they all stick together. He wants to talk things out, like Oprah—who’s also brown. But did Mel Gibson ever solve anything by talking? Oops, bad example. Did Bruce Willis ever solve anything by talking? Or Clint Eastwood? Or Ariel Sharon? Sorry, I couldn't think of a Jewish action hero. You should talk to your buddies in Hollywood and get that fixed.
These non-buddies want to do apleasement. It’s from the Latin, apleasin, and it’s when you give someone too much pleasing. They say we should talk with these folks, negotiationalize with them, as if a bunch of words will make an argument. We’ve heard this kind of foolish thinking before. During World War II, a man—kinda brown—once said to one of the greatest heroes in American history, “You throw me the idol, and I’ll throw you the whip. No time to argue.” But when he got the idol, he just dropped the whip. That kind apleasement is dangerous and can fool even our smartest arch-, uh, archeol-, uh, scientists.
That’s why we have to stick together and be buddies, and keep their buddy out of the White House. Because the only way we’re going to have a peaceful Middle East, full of tolerance and integration, is if we shoot our way out.
Thank you. That’s English for however you say thank you in Jewish.
Thank you very much for the opportunity to speak to you today. And thank you very much for the bagels this morning. Or as I call them, Jewnuts. Like doughnuts, but Jewier. I also have to hand it to you, you’re Zagnuts for security. This morning, someone asked me if I wanted lox on my bagel. I said no, because who’s going to steal a bagel? But I appreciate the extra precautionation.
We have a lot in common, Israel and America. The Old Testament. An appreciation of Schindler’s List. Jerry Seinfeld. And a distrust of brown people.
We’re really like buddies in an action move. I like action movies. Lots of action, not so much talking, and even when there’s talking, it’s talking about action. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you can’t solve anything by talking. You got to shoot your way out of a problem or else the bad guys win.
Like buddies, we get on each other’s nerves a little. I’m always asking you to accept Jesus Christ as your personal savior, and you’re always throwing my pork in the garbage. Although maybe I’d be a little lighter if I kept that cashmere diet like you folks. Anyway, even when buddies disagree, they still have each other’s backs.
But there’s somebody else in my country who’s not your buddy. Not going to name names, but he’s buddies with the other brown peoples, because they all stick together. He wants to talk things out, like Oprah—who’s also brown. But did Mel Gibson ever solve anything by talking? Oops, bad example. Did Bruce Willis ever solve anything by talking? Or Clint Eastwood? Or Ariel Sharon? Sorry, I couldn't think of a Jewish action hero. You should talk to your buddies in Hollywood and get that fixed.
These non-buddies want to do apleasement. It’s from the Latin, apleasin, and it’s when you give someone too much pleasing. They say we should talk with these folks, negotiationalize with them, as if a bunch of words will make an argument. We’ve heard this kind of foolish thinking before. During World War II, a man—kinda brown—once said to one of the greatest heroes in American history, “You throw me the idol, and I’ll throw you the whip. No time to argue.” But when he got the idol, he just dropped the whip. That kind apleasement is dangerous and can fool even our smartest arch-, uh, archeol-, uh, scientists.
That’s why we have to stick together and be buddies, and keep their buddy out of the White House. Because the only way we’re going to have a peaceful Middle East, full of tolerance and integration, is if we shoot our way out.
Thank you. That’s English for however you say thank you in Jewish.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Rummy in Retirement
6:17 a.m. Wake up from a hot dream involving Lynnie Englund, nipple clamps, a Sears Die Hard battery, and a Super Soaker.
6:18 a.m. Change shorts.
7:02 a.m. Down Irish coffee and Percocet
7:30 a.m. Take call from New York Times about resignation letter surfacing.
7:34 a.m. Deny writing resignation letter.
7:35 a.m. Deny having ever served as Secretary of Defense.
8:33 a.m. Call cable customer service about a mistake on the bill.
8:34 a.m. Assure "Dave" that pay-per-view order of Back Door Nurses 7, 8, and 9 was a mistake.
8:35 a.m. Explain to Dave that it pretty goddamned easy to keep making the same mistake over and over again.
8:43 a.m. Call NSA to get transcripts on Dave.
8:51 a.m. Call Dave and read pages 2, 3, and 12.
8:52 a.m. Thank Dave for removing the charge.
8:53 a.m. Order pay-per-view of Boobies of Mass D-Cuption 4.
9:57 a.m. Confirm next week’s hunting trip with Vice President Cheney.
10: 11 a.m. Fetch quarry for hunt by setting out food over Drifter Pits near railroad tracks.
10:30 a.m. Work on memoir chapter, “I Was Right on Iraq.”
11:30 a.m. Check CNN to see if right on Iraq yet.
11:33 a.m. Smash television.
11:55 a.m. Head out for outdoor cookout to welcome Rove into the Bush Whacked Club.
12: 13 p.m. Stop man for directions to nearest grocery store.
12: 14 p.m. Refuse to believe he doesn’t know where nearest grocery store is.
12:58 p.m. Finally believe he doesn’t know after he loses consciousness. Close car trunk.
1:07 p.m. Drop man off near county hospital. Leave message on his forehead that reads, “Die, honky! -- Sincerely, Nation of Islam.”
1:11: p.m. Down Mountain Dew and Percocet.
1:15 p.m. Argue with grocery store clerk that he did in fact receive a $20 bill. Inquire as to his registration status with selective service.
1:17 p.m. Pocket change from a $20 bill and original $20 bill.
1:29 p.m. Apologize to Bush Whacked Club for being late. Act surprised when they point to blood on shirt. Recite deer cover story.
1:31 p.m. Insist that one package of wieners should be more than enough to pacify the hunger of three dozen people.
1:40 p.m. Put Rove into headlock until he agrees that he’s not hungry any more.
3:45 p.m. On the way home, stop at Department of Defense. Remember not to wear DoD letterman jacket this time.
3: 49 p.m. Burst into Robert Gates’s office and suggest another hiding spot for Iraqi WMD: Barack Obama's backyard.
3:50 p.m. Awkward silence.
3:57 p.m. Down Percocet and Percocet.
6:34 p.m. Wake up on doorstep again. Curse self for still wearing DoD letterman jacket.
7:00 p.m. Check TV about being right about Iraq.
7:01 p.m. Wonder how television got smashed in.
7:20 p.m. Return TV to Best Buy. Argue with clerk that the television has been broken since it was delivered four years ago, but have been too busy to return it.
7:30 p.m. Drive home with new television.
8:03 p.m. Notice still not right about Iraq.
8:12 p.m. Begin new chapter of memoir, “Why Being Right About Iraq Is Overrated.”
11:35 p.m. Grab G.I. Joe doll and head to bed.
11:57 p.m. See faces of thousands of soldiers asking why they were sacrificed for an enormous lie.
11:59 p.m. Down warm milk and Percocet.
6:18 a.m. Change shorts.
7:02 a.m. Down Irish coffee and Percocet
7:30 a.m. Take call from New York Times about resignation letter surfacing.
7:34 a.m. Deny writing resignation letter.
7:35 a.m. Deny having ever served as Secretary of Defense.
8:33 a.m. Call cable customer service about a mistake on the bill.
8:34 a.m. Assure "Dave" that pay-per-view order of Back Door Nurses 7, 8, and 9 was a mistake.
8:35 a.m. Explain to Dave that it pretty goddamned easy to keep making the same mistake over and over again.
8:43 a.m. Call NSA to get transcripts on Dave.
8:51 a.m. Call Dave and read pages 2, 3, and 12.
8:52 a.m. Thank Dave for removing the charge.
8:53 a.m. Order pay-per-view of Boobies of Mass D-Cuption 4.
9:57 a.m. Confirm next week’s hunting trip with Vice President Cheney.
10: 11 a.m. Fetch quarry for hunt by setting out food over Drifter Pits near railroad tracks.
10:30 a.m. Work on memoir chapter, “I Was Right on Iraq.”
11:30 a.m. Check CNN to see if right on Iraq yet.
11:33 a.m. Smash television.
11:55 a.m. Head out for outdoor cookout to welcome Rove into the Bush Whacked Club.
12: 13 p.m. Stop man for directions to nearest grocery store.
12: 14 p.m. Refuse to believe he doesn’t know where nearest grocery store is.
12:58 p.m. Finally believe he doesn’t know after he loses consciousness. Close car trunk.
1:07 p.m. Drop man off near county hospital. Leave message on his forehead that reads, “Die, honky! -- Sincerely, Nation of Islam.”
1:11: p.m. Down Mountain Dew and Percocet.
1:15 p.m. Argue with grocery store clerk that he did in fact receive a $20 bill. Inquire as to his registration status with selective service.
1:17 p.m. Pocket change from a $20 bill and original $20 bill.
1:29 p.m. Apologize to Bush Whacked Club for being late. Act surprised when they point to blood on shirt. Recite deer cover story.
1:31 p.m. Insist that one package of wieners should be more than enough to pacify the hunger of three dozen people.
1:40 p.m. Put Rove into headlock until he agrees that he’s not hungry any more.
3:45 p.m. On the way home, stop at Department of Defense. Remember not to wear DoD letterman jacket this time.
3: 49 p.m. Burst into Robert Gates’s office and suggest another hiding spot for Iraqi WMD: Barack Obama's backyard.
3:50 p.m. Awkward silence.
3:57 p.m. Down Percocet and Percocet.
6:34 p.m. Wake up on doorstep again. Curse self for still wearing DoD letterman jacket.
7:00 p.m. Check TV about being right about Iraq.
7:01 p.m. Wonder how television got smashed in.
7:20 p.m. Return TV to Best Buy. Argue with clerk that the television has been broken since it was delivered four years ago, but have been too busy to return it.
7:30 p.m. Drive home with new television.
8:03 p.m. Notice still not right about Iraq.
8:12 p.m. Begin new chapter of memoir, “Why Being Right About Iraq Is Overrated.”
11:35 p.m. Grab G.I. Joe doll and head to bed.
11:57 p.m. See faces of thousands of soldiers asking why they were sacrificed for an enormous lie.
11:59 p.m. Down warm milk and Percocet.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Swerving Between the Lines
--You’re listening to Book Sense, the show where we make sense out of books. I’m your host Gertrude Grimmelshausen, and we’re here talking to John Jacobs, author of How Do You Like Them Apples? John, what is it about apples that inspired you to write this novel?
--Actually, Gertrude, it’s a collection.
--Of apples?
--No, a short story collection.
--I see. Why short stories instead of a novel?
--That was the form I wanted to work with.
--Did you choose short stories because you felt you couldn’t stretch apples into a novel?
--The apples don’t really have anything to do with the stories. It’s just an expression.
--Do you dislike apples?
--No, they’re quite good, that’s not the point—
--I like red delicious myself, sometimes Rome, or applesauce.
--It’s a figure of speech, Gertrude. It’s rubbing someone’s nose in something that’s happened to them, which is the point of many of the stories.
--I see. But there’s an apple tree on the cover.
--Yes, well, I didn’t choose that.
--If you were a tree, what kind of tree...?
--I’m sorry?
--Vis a vis trees, if you were one...?
--What?
--Exactly.
--I...would...be...an, uh, elm.
--Not an apple tree?
--No, not an apple tree! The book isn’t....You know, Gertrude, what kind of tree would you be?
--I don’t like trees. I got poison ivy once from a forest. Have you ever had poison ivy?
--No.
--I would think it would be difficult to write with poison ivy. Because you’d be itching instead of writing. That’s what Gabriel Garcia Marquez wrote about.
--I’m sorry?
--Love in the Time of Poison Ivy. How hard it was to love because of the itching.
--It was Love in the Time of Cholera, Gertrude.
--Yes, that’s the Spanish translation. Like your name would be Juan Jacobs. Or Yay-cobs. You notice that our names have letterracy?
--What on earth are you talking about?
--Letteracy. They start with the same letters. Gertrude Grimmelshausen, John Jacobs. Or Juan Yaycobs.
--That’s called alliteration.
--No, I know I can read, and you just read from your novel.
--It's a story collection! How hard is it to—
--Cactus!
--...Should I dare to ask what that means?
--That’s the kind of tree I would be. You can’t get poison ivy from a cactus.
--That’s the first true thing you’ve said this evening.
--So, as you were writing this “collection...”
--Why are you doing that thing with your fingers?
--I’m quoting you, John. That’s what you called it.
--Because that’s what it’s called! A story collection.
--So you were writing this, and then you finished it.
--Is that even a question?
--You finished your “collection.”
--Stop it! Stop making the quote signs with your fingers! Of course I finished it. How could it have been published if it wasn't finished? Now the next words out of your mouth better be a real question, or this “interview” is over.
--It’s been written that our attention spans have decreased, yet the popularity of the short story has also declined. Do you find this to be a paradox?
--That’s your question?
--Yes.
--No apples? No poison ivy?
--We already covered those topics, unless you’d like to revisit them...
--No, no, no. You just surprised me. Um, that’s a great question, and I have a theory that I think explains this...
--A theory our audience would probably love to hear if we were not out of time. You have been listening to Juan Yacobs discuss his latest collecion, How Do You Like Them Elm Trees? I’m Gertrude Grimmelshausen, and thank you for listening to Book Sense, the program for sensible books.
Dedicated to Daniel, who wrangled the "questions" like a pro.
--Actually, Gertrude, it’s a collection.
--Of apples?
--No, a short story collection.
--I see. Why short stories instead of a novel?
--That was the form I wanted to work with.
--Did you choose short stories because you felt you couldn’t stretch apples into a novel?
--The apples don’t really have anything to do with the stories. It’s just an expression.
--Do you dislike apples?
--No, they’re quite good, that’s not the point—
--I like red delicious myself, sometimes Rome, or applesauce.
--It’s a figure of speech, Gertrude. It’s rubbing someone’s nose in something that’s happened to them, which is the point of many of the stories.
--I see. But there’s an apple tree on the cover.
--Yes, well, I didn’t choose that.
--If you were a tree, what kind of tree...?
--I’m sorry?
--Vis a vis trees, if you were one...?
--What?
--Exactly.
--I...would...be...an, uh, elm.
--Not an apple tree?
--No, not an apple tree! The book isn’t....You know, Gertrude, what kind of tree would you be?
--I don’t like trees. I got poison ivy once from a forest. Have you ever had poison ivy?
--No.
--I would think it would be difficult to write with poison ivy. Because you’d be itching instead of writing. That’s what Gabriel Garcia Marquez wrote about.
--I’m sorry?
--Love in the Time of Poison Ivy. How hard it was to love because of the itching.
--It was Love in the Time of Cholera, Gertrude.
--Yes, that’s the Spanish translation. Like your name would be Juan Jacobs. Or Yay-cobs. You notice that our names have letterracy?
--What on earth are you talking about?
--Letteracy. They start with the same letters. Gertrude Grimmelshausen, John Jacobs. Or Juan Yaycobs.
--That’s called alliteration.
--No, I know I can read, and you just read from your novel.
--It's a story collection! How hard is it to—
--Cactus!
--...Should I dare to ask what that means?
--That’s the kind of tree I would be. You can’t get poison ivy from a cactus.
--That’s the first true thing you’ve said this evening.
--So, as you were writing this “collection...”
--Why are you doing that thing with your fingers?
--I’m quoting you, John. That’s what you called it.
--Because that’s what it’s called! A story collection.
--So you were writing this, and then you finished it.
--Is that even a question?
--You finished your “collection.”
--Stop it! Stop making the quote signs with your fingers! Of course I finished it. How could it have been published if it wasn't finished? Now the next words out of your mouth better be a real question, or this “interview” is over.
--It’s been written that our attention spans have decreased, yet the popularity of the short story has also declined. Do you find this to be a paradox?
--That’s your question?
--Yes.
--No apples? No poison ivy?
--We already covered those topics, unless you’d like to revisit them...
--No, no, no. You just surprised me. Um, that’s a great question, and I have a theory that I think explains this...
--A theory our audience would probably love to hear if we were not out of time. You have been listening to Juan Yacobs discuss his latest collecion, How Do You Like Them Elm Trees? I’m Gertrude Grimmelshausen, and thank you for listening to Book Sense, the program for sensible books.
Dedicated to Daniel, who wrangled the "questions" like a pro.
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