humor

Favorite read of 2011

This past year I read some great books, but in terms of delivering page after page of reading pleasure, nothing quite measured up to Frank Sinatra in a Blender by Matthew McBride.

McBride’s debut novel was one of the funniest books I have read in a long time. I laughed hard. I laughed so hard, in fact, that I wept — tears rolling down my cheeks, my nose running. There’s also a pretty compelling story in there, centering around the wonderfully drawn Nick Valentine (think, Bad Santa meets Hunter S. Thompson) and his hilarious little dog, Frank Sinatra.

I won’t spoil anything here, but suffice it to say McBride pulls off the difficult trick making you care about some of the most amusing, disturbing and low-functioning people you could dream up, and he does it with grace, economy and flare. I couldn’t put it down.

Hat’s off to you, Mr. McBride.

December 31, 2011 0

Our depraved litle baby is walking

It’s been a long time coming.

Been talking about this idea, working this idea, executing on this idea (slowly) for more than two years.

The idea? To publish a collection of fiction inspired by Dick Cheney.

Long story deceptively short, co-editors Kieran Shea and Jedidiah Ayres and I recruited 23 wonderfully sick writers and artists to help create something really kind of special: D*CKED: Dark Fiction Inspired by Dick Cheney [be sure to check out Shea’s behind-the-scene’s report on the making of our book].

I’m proud of our depraved little baby; it’s packed with great writing, creative storytelling and inspirational artistry.

Expect coverage from some major outlets in coming days and weeks, but for now I suggest you get yourself D*CKED.

August 26, 2011 2

Where are my Angel Flights?

When I met Joelle Charbonneau at Bouchercon right around this time last year (and subsequently drafted behind her and Stacia Decker into a St. Martins party), she’d just signed a deal for a novel about … a rollerskating detective. Back then I cocked my head and squinted. A rollerskating detective? Hmm. Then again, who was I to judge, as I was (and still am) writing a novel involving an older gentleman who saunters about in army boots and a skin-colored Speedo. …. Anyways, what I noticed about Joelle last year was kindness (she took pity on this California boy who’d come to Indy in October with little more than T-shirts) and swift grace (she’d written her book in a matter of weeks, if I recall correctly). … Now look at Joelle and her comedic mystery, Skating Around the Law. Publisher’s Weekly calls it a “funny debut.” Kirkus calls it “funny and sexy.” A megastore made it its book of the week. Barnes & Noble is celebrating it on its mystery site. Even hardboiled aficionado Jed Ayres is singing its praises as he also looks back longingly (with a long sad swallow) on his own roller-rink days.

Very cool, Joelle.

October 6, 2010 5

Cuckoo for Crazy Larry?

Not too long ago my story, Crazy Larry Smells Bacon, had quite the day.

First, in the morning, I received the news that Crazy Larry, which originally appeared in the transgressive-fiction journal Plots with Guns, had been selected to appear in the anthology, By Hook or by Crook: The Best Crime and Mystery Stories of the Year: 2009 [Tyrus Books], edited by Ed Gorman and Martin Greenberg.

Then, that night, I learned that judges for the storySouth 2010 Million Writers Award had named Crazy Larry a “notable story” of the year (along with pieces by many others, most notably Kieran Shea, Kyle Minor and Mike MacLean), and that it’s still elligible for higher praise, however unlikely.

For all the love Larry is now receiving, I can thank PWG editor Anthony Neil Smith. Neil’s push-backs on the piece, and his suggestions for spry ol’ Larry, really made a difference. … I’m also glad to tell you that Larry has a solid role in the novel I have been writing; it’s a relief to see that Larry actually ineterests more people than just Neil and me.

Not that there would’ve been anything wrong with that.

April 13, 2010 3

Creative MeMe — Lies and Truths

You can blame Shea for this one ….

Shea tagged me for something the kids are calling a “Creative MeMe — Lies and Truths.”

Idea is, you tell “six outrageous lies about yourself, and at least one outrageous truth – or – switch it around and tell six outrageous truths and one outrageous lie. Nominate some more ‘creative writers’ who might have fun coming up with outrageous lies of their own. (Check the end of this post.)”

Shea has some doozies. What a dude. Damn, I love interesting people.

Okay, mine: One outrageous lie, six outrageous truths …

1] A while back, an unusual sequence of circumstances had me hanging out with Travolta in a nearly empty “waiting area.” We’re chewing the fat for a while, and when he learns that I’m headed to the same place he is, he gives me this look like I’m a space alien, showing me that big smile and eye-twinkle, and says, “Who are you again? And what’s your deal?” … Wish I knew, John. Wish I knew.

2] The summer before college, as a U-Haul desk jockey, I seriously freaked out a customer (a complete stranger) by correctly telling the man that I had seen him one year earlier standing in line with two ladies at a water-slide park, in a city 30 miles away, and that he’d been wearing a blue Speedo and puka shells, and that the ladies had been wearing matching one-pieces. I even told him the date I saw him. … You should’ve seen the way that guy looked at me. … One of my coworkers spent the rest of the summer convinced I was magic.

3] My dog Venus once appeared on ABC News.

4] On a college road trip to a Sierra town east of Chester, I lost a bet to a local. To settle up, I had to go out back of this bar and squeeze into a small cage containing — I kid you not — this bobcat he’d trapped, and I had to stay in there for 30 seconds. My friends laughed so hard, one of them peed his pants. … Me? I still have the claw marks streaking down my left calf and across the small of my back [all I did was curl up and cover my face].

5] Back in the ’90s, the lead singer of Hootie and Blowfish sang to my wife for the better part of a 90-minute performance at the Concord Pavilion, and for some reason I never really felt threatened. … Me? Oblivious dingbat? Maybe, but she was going home with me, bub.

6] In college, I circled the United States for three weeks … on $450.

7] As a teen employee of Hickory Farms, I once walked through the mall with my baggy collar shirt tucked into my too-tight pants. That would have been fine, if only my fly had been zipped closed and an enormous portion of my shirt wasn’t protruding through it — unbeknownst to me, of course.

Okay, name the lie, and after ample time, I’ll come clean.

Meanwhile, to continue the madness, I have been asked to tag a “creative writer.” And I want sick, I want twisted, I want perversion. I want Phillips!

February 22, 2010 5

Greg’s Friends Doing Amazing Things — Kim Kenny

kimkenny When I hung out with Kim Kenny in high school, she was one of the funniest people around.

And one of the smartest.

All these years later, Kim is still funny and smart. Now she’s sharing those talents with the world — with the help of her “little” brother, Chris Kenny. The two write and star in their own Internet comedy series, “Siblings,” which has yet to disappoint.

Every time I watch it, I smile ear-to-ear.

Here’s what I dig about “Siblings”: It’s a great example of people rising from their day jobs, their everyday obligations and routines, their own exhaustion, the noise of life, to create something really cool. It may not pay the bills, or even pay for itself, but it’s creative — and it’s funny, and it’s connecting with people.

They created something cool, and it’s out “there.”

Get your hit of “Siblings” here.

Or check out my favorite episode so far, “By the Book,” below.

August 19, 2009 1

Imagine my rapture

Imagine my rapture.

Imagine the delicious joy that coursed through my veins when I glanced the telltale signs of something wonderful — the sans-serif font, the classic black-and-white color scheme and the distinct humor screaming from the tabloid headline, “OBAMA CANCELS JUNE!,” and the sub-head, “11-month year will save Americans billions.”

Was I hallucinating? Was this a dream? Was this actually a flash of the defunct print mag, my dearly departed Weekly World News, right there beside the supermarket checkout line?

I took a closer look, picked up the tabloid. It was the Sun, a lesser tabloid, but in this issue it was offering a bonus insert of the World News, which broke my heart when it folded 2007.

Long story short, I gladly bought a copy and soon was enjoying stories about a 275-pound, 10-year-old boy who beat muggers to “within an inch of their lives,” a doll house that is haunted by a “tiny spirit” and a “killer-duck” crisis in the Midwest. Yes, I do know the Weekly World News offers stories online [see, “Tax Extension for Bat Boy”], but there was something so very special about having a new printed version in my hands.

Hillary’s alien lover would understand.

April 16, 2009 4

I love this guy

Lyle the Intern really, really, really makes me laugh. Tears-rolling-down-my-face laugh.

September 24, 2008 2

Some things never get old

Some things in life never get old. For males, it’s bathroom humor.

I will admit it. I’m not immune to the stuff. It can still make me laugh. It can make me laugh hard. And if all the bathroom-humor-oriented movies, books, stories and web sites out there are any indication, I am not the only adult with this weakness.

But now I have two sons. And there are times when, as their father, I really shouldn’t be laughing and pointing and nodding and even tearing up at their potty humor (namely, when at the dinner table or in public). But sometimes it’s damn tough, and I find myself forcing a straight face as I tell them to cut that out, you don’t talk about poo-poo sandwiches at the dinner table. And there are times when even my wife fails to keep from laughing at what our 3-year-old son Dylan has come up with.

Which, of course, causes Dylan to beam with pride — fortified by the laughter of his audience — as he resolves to dive deeper into his potty-humor repertoire.

For Dylan these days, songs, monologues, jokes and games centered around “poo and privates,” as he calls his subject matter, never lose their luster. He just can’t get enough. Case in point: This weekend, the boys were wondering how many days have passed since they’ve been born. I worked out the math, and they were fascinated. Then Jack wondered how many days have passed since “prehistoric bugs” roamed the earth and even offered his best guess: “Three million, two hundred, fourteen-thousand, twenty-five trillion and seventy-two katrillion days.”

I turned to Dylan. “And what’s your guess?”

Dylan takes a deep breath. “I think its been two-four-ten pee-pee-pillion, one diarrhea-rillion and one poo-poo-pillion days.”

I stared at him and bit my lip, fighting the urge to grin, thinking, Ah, to be three again.

May 8, 2008 2