Queen of Angels Help

My latest fantasy novel Queen of Angels spent eleven months languishing in the (invited) submission queue of a publisher I did not know was in financial trouble. Consequently I am behind schedule in getting it out to my fans. Any agents or publishers in blog-reader land who are looking for new material, contact me. My writing almost never needs any mechanical edits; I work very hard to produce a good, clean, grammatically sound manuscript. Oh, I generally spin a pretty decent yarn, too.

Goblinopolis for Free!

The Kindle version of Goblinopolis is free today! http://www.amazon.com/Goblinopolis-Tol-Chronicles-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00EPRLPZS/ref=sr_1_1_bnp_1_kin?ie=UTF8&qid=1414253070&sr=8-1&keywords=goblinopolis

A Toast to Venkman

I have come to the conclusion that the comedic actor I most admire is Bill Murray. He does what he wants, when he wants, the way he wants. A man like that has to be respected and, truth be told, envied. I have added him to my list of humorists with whom I'd like to have dinner, along with such notables as Mark Twain, Will Rogers, W.C. Fields, Groucho Marx, Robert Benchley, James Thurber, Dorothy Parker, E.B. White, H. Allen Smith, and Will Cuppy. Of course, of these Murray is the only living representative, but I estimate my chances of success are approximately equal with all of them, so it matters little.

Mr. Murray, I salute you and your free spirit.

Marketing Novels

With the popularization of self-publishing and the resulting glut of books available for download (ignoring for now the print book, which I truly fear is headed for extinction--and a disastrously sad day that will be for all mankind, too), it has become more and more difficult for those of us who have finally broken into the traditional book publishing game to distinguish our offerings from the DIY novels.

Don't get me wrong; my first novel, Tangent, was published by a press so small that only two books ever came from it. My second book, the humorous non-fiction work Ex Mentis Saxonicum, was outright self-published, and never marketed at all other than by word-of-mouth. I am therefore quite sympathetic with all who choose self-publishing as a means of bypassing the years of frustration and dashed hopes that often accompany trying to wedge one's foot into the door of old-school publishing. The problem is that there are now hundreds if not thousands of new titles every year from which readers must select. I have been writing for publication for 35 years; my books are well-written and expertly edited. How do I get across to potential readers that my novels are a cut above and deserve to be read?

Authors traditionally rely on their publishing houses to do the lion's share of the marketing, but small presses have neither the staff nor the deep pockets necessary to make themselves heard over the tumult of hundreds of larger, better-funded firms. What it all boils down to is that loyal readers play an absolutely critical role in the success of an author not signed with a major house. If you are reading this blog and want to see my novels coming out at reasonable intervals, I would ask that you make as much noise on social media as possible. I am working on a humorous video that will hopefully go viral, as well.

I love writing, and I love thinking that people enjoy reading what I write. If you want to see more of it, spread the word. Together we can accomplish the seemingly impossible. I have faith in all of you.

No Drought of Doubt

Since my earliest memories I have been a creator. I don't mean to imply by this that everything I've created was worth the effort I put into it, or in fact any effort at all, but create I did and continue to do. Over the years, by talking to others of like ilk and reading their comments, I've come to understand that almost all creators alternately admire and despise their creations. In my own case that extends beyond the creation to the creative urge itself. I wonder how much simpler a cast my life would have taken on if I could just have been content with coming home from work and flopping down in front of the television like the vast majority of other American males my age.

But no, I had to roll up my sleeves and hit the drafting table, wood shop, easel, cement mixer, yard, ham shack, typewriter, keyboard, modeling bench, or some other locus of dabbling and drilling until it was time for bed. It got to the point where I owned a television solely for the purpose of watching taped movies a few times a year. I haven't subscribed to any cable TV service now for over half a decade. You'd think that as a fantasy and science fiction author I'd be into watching television shows and movies of those genres, but I can seldom rationalize giving up enough time from writing to accomplish even this pleasant activity, though it might quite legitimately be thought of as 'research.' (Why 're-search?' Does that mean you didn't find it the first time?)

Returning to my thesis, if indeed there is one, this love/hate dichotomy with the products of one's own mental perspiration recurs as a philosophical topic for me periodically, most often when I am engaged in a certain unavoidable biological function that lends itself well to cogitation. Most of the things I create I regard, quite frankly, as crap, especially when I compare them with what others working in the same medium having produced. My admirers, if there are any left in the general population, feel otherwise and have told me so on occasion. There's no accounting for taste.

Writing, the creative activity in which I am now involved full-time, is something of an exception for me. Sure, I still churn out crap on a regular basis, but unlike many of my other creative pursuits if I designate a piece of writing as having little to no value I have the option of fixing it, at least so long as I catch wind of the excremental aspect before something unfortunate like publication happens to it. That's a luxury many other art forms cannot be said to enjoy.

Irony stalks into my life regularly and from various directions. One of her favorite paths is through my writing. I can spend months slaving over a hot keyboard to produce a novel, polished to what appears to me to be mirror-finish perfection, only to have it either ignored or outright rejected by publishers, agents, reviewers, and even the man who comes to change the bulb in the street light out front. By the same token, some shallow throwaway piece I wrote while waiting at the doctor's office ten years ago and hastily edited for submission ends up being a finalist in a prestigious literary competition. Does this illustrate an intrinsic fairness and force of justice pervading the universe? I hardly think so.

In fact, it almost seems the more work I put into things, the worse they stink. This blog entry, for example, took me well over an hour.

Yet Another Feeble Tolkien Ripoff

In the days of Astranärion, when green and lush still were the glades and cool copses of fair Navillona, before the first rumor of the evil that was to spread from this verdant land until it covered the Four Realms in a sodden, suffocating blanket of hate, a man walked alone. He was not outcast, nor suffered he from any ailment or gross disfigurement that might seemingly cause him to seek out a solitary existence. He moved along paths seldom tread for his own purposes, shunning contact for the distraction it offered, pulling him away from his thoughts. Ever he sought counsel within himself, heeding no voice of bird or beast, looking at times at the sky, yet in truth seeing it not.

For fully a fortnight wandered he in solitude along the high waypaths that rode the hillsides midway between the sea foam and the shoulders of the Mithinn; in all that time he spoke not, and nor did he eat or drink save sunlight and morning dew. At last came he to a splendid valley, surrounded on three sides by blue and gray peaks, graced by two swift-flowing streams and overlain by a thick carpet of grass most green. In the midst of the valley stood a singular column of granite, many ells high, left by some unguessed-at act of nature or wizardry of the Elder Peoples. At its base he built a small cairn of stones, and on this cairn he broke his long fast.

A city grew from this beginning, a city whose like had never before nor since been seen in the lands of mortal men. Many towered it was, with sharp pinnacles aspiring to the heavens at the four corners of a magnificent curtain wall, wrought by dwarven skill from stone quarried from deep within Darva Mithinnu, the mountain of thunder. At its center was the Tower of Lemiol, hewn from the very living rock of the granite column, for Lemiol it was who founded the city, and ever did that tower bear his name.

Far and wide about the tower were gardens and parks, margined by broad avenues of close-set cobbling, and along these broadways sprang up the dwellings of the people of Pendu Leimol. Lemiol was a chieftain of the Estracar and his people flocked to him when he summoned them from their havens across the wide, storm-ridden gulf. It was fated that all Estracar should make this journey and take up abode in mortal climes since the Folly of Indüriner, who in madness sat himself upon the High Seat of Estra, the One, the only place forbidden to the people of Estra in all of the Blessed Realm. At that moment the lands of the Estracar broke apart from the body of the Blessed Realm, and became islands, havens hidden from mortal mariners yet much lessened from their former splendor. And Estra pronounced upon them this doom: that they should seek out mortal shores and there abide amongst the strifes of men and the other peoples, until they were at last called back from exile after many long ages.

So set forth Lemiol from the quay at Astranärion, sailing alone in a ship of deep blue Bhidras wood, which could not founder or be driven from its course by any save Lemiol or The One. He was in appearance as a mortal man, with long, fine, brown hair, a sharp nose, and piercing gray eyes. A careful observer might note in him an almost undefinable aura of grace and a fluidity of motion that bespoke his magical nature.

The Estracar were magical beings, born to magic and trained in its use from an early age. They never revealed their true nature to mortals, becoming known rather as sorcerors or mages or wizards or thaumaturges, or by a host of other labels that fell far short of reality. The sendra, the innermost caste of mages, knew them as carres inorpeth, the chosen ones, who were fittingly thought to be born to magic. Certainly the offspring of Estracar and mortals made exceptional mages, and they seemed to take to the rigid discipline of the thaumos, the spell-casting magic, far more quickly than did normal students.

While the Estracar were immortal, those who chose to dwell too long in any one place began, as a result of the distance between themselves and the Blessed Lands from which their power emanated, to fade, until they were almost transparent, possessing only a wispy gray outline that could easily be overlooked by any but the practiced. These poor souls were often called ghosts or spirits by the unenlightened, and feared greatly by the common people. As a result they wandered in solitary exile, far from inhabited places, for Estracar were acutely tuned to the joys and fears of mortal men and suffered greatly when confronted by intense fear or anger.

I can’t keep this up.

This Explains So Much

The author at work. Inspiring, isn't it?

Alienware Atrocity

I don't customarily use blogs to rant about defective products or unscrupulous manufacturers, but I'm going to make an exception here because the "correct" route has gotten me nothing but frustrated.

In February of 2008 my loving wife bought me an Alienware Area 51 M9750 laptop for Valentine's day, to help me make productive use of the down time during a four week training TDY. The total cost for this extravagant (and amazingly considerate) show of affection was $2,864.23--which was a lot of moolah for a frigging laptop in 2008 (still is, for that matter).

Immediately the laptop had an issue, in that despite being supposedly state-of-the-art for gaming wouldn't run most of the games I put on it, no matter if they were recent or older. It came with Vista; I figured that was the problem and loaded XP SP2. Same issues, precisely. Odd. After a few days it began to reboot spontaneously, which it still does. As a result of this quirk (probably a motherboard issue), I can't really use it for anything.

In August of 2008, I finally had enough and contacted Alienware customer "support." After several days of exchanging emails in which they apologized but refused to do anything about it, my final response from them was "You are a valued customer and we apologize for the inconvenience caused." That's it. Not even a "Here's a Return Authorization number; send it back and we'll come up with a way to claim it was your fault." So, I just wrote it off as an expensive mistake and carried on with my life.

When Dell took over Alienware, I was hopeful that customer service might now consist of something less Douglas Adamsesque than simply, "we apologize for the inconvenience." I gave them a few months to get Alienware fully integrated into the company and then tried again.

The chief problem with Dell Customer Service is that it resembles an IQ test: there are a lot of questions and puzzles to solve and then...nothing happens. At least with an IQ test you get a score at the end. They insist on you having a bunch of numbers you won't have if you bought your Alienware machine prior to the merger; if you try an alternate route as a result you get exactly nowhere, or at least Igot exactly nowhere. Needless to say, I will never buy another Alienware anything, and strongly discourage any of my readers from making the grave mistake of falling for their probably largely self-generated reputation, as well. I even went so far as to praise Alienware Area 51's in my first novel. The next time they appear in one of my novels it won't be in a positive light, I promise you.

So, in summary, my wife paid $2,864.23 to buy me a rubberized paperweight, for which the scoundrels who sold it to her "apologize for the inconvenience caused" but nothing more.

Oh, but it does have a cool alien face on the lid.

Goblinopolis: You Know You Crave It

And here is where you can satisfy that gnawing craving: Paperback or Kindle. Share and enjoy!

Lululemon Athletica CEO Application

I'm not at all a fan of the traditional job application process: it's stuffy, boring, bureaucratic, and honestly doesn't generate the information HR actually needs in order to make a credible decision about whether or not to forward your application to the hiring official.

This job announcement is probably in the top five I've encountered in my 35 years in the professional job market, so I decided to apply. Since, as I said, I'm not into the traditional route, I'll apply via my blog. If they're really interested in hiring someone with these qualities, they will search the Web and find my application. If they don't find that a viable application route, I probably wouldn't do well as their CEO, anyway. If you put someone who constantly thinks way outside the box in a box, he can no longer think at all because his thinking is now separated from his brain and has no way to get expressed. I'm not the type to sit there and make stuff up all day, like most executives. I actually enjoy thinking, even at work. But I can't do it very well in a box. Not that I've ever actually been asked to work in a box. I wonder if I could think outside the box in an actual box? I think we're skating off into Irrelevancia, my adopted homeland. Since you're all undocumented aliens, we'll have to stay on this side of the border for now.

Claimer (I dislike disclaimers: they're so negative and everything): The text in bold print below is copyright (c) 2013 by Lululemon Athletica--at least I presume so. What I claim here (since this is a claimer) is that I didn't write it.

CEO

lululemon athletica

Founded in 1998 in beautiful Vancouver, BC lululemon athletica creates components for people to live long, healthy and fun lives.

That covers a broad range of products. You must have an enormous production facility. Unless you mean "a few relatively small and easy to store" components. As a lifelong humorist I have a great deal of experience in your field. I'm not sure reading my humor will actually allow you to live longer, but at least it will seem that way. Laughter is the best medicine, so I've got "healthy" covered. If humor isn't fun, I don't know what is. And I do (know what is).

description

You report to no one, you are the CEO (duh). You are passionate about doing chief executive officer type stuff like making decisions, having a vision and being the head boss person.

To be brutally honest, I don't report to anyone even when I have an office job. I just send off random emails I copy from sites that pertain to our line of business and the boss never knows the difference. In fact, she thinks I'm innovative and well-informed. I would say I'm passionate about making decisions, so long as those decisions involve ale selection, which new Ham radio or computer equipment to buy, or chocolate. I do have a vision, although it needs optical enhancement when I'm driving or reading fine print. I also have an envision, which is that I envision taking the company to new, unimagined heights through my incredible ability to navigate the tortuous class-5 rapids of the business world by telling everyone exactly what they want to hear and then taking my golden parachute when we can't deliver on any of those promises. But come on, isn't that really what most every CEO does? I'm just admitting it up front. Refreshing, isn't it?

a day in the life of a chief executive officer

• You communicate powerfully, often through Sanskrit

  ଏତତ୍ ଅହଂ ନ ଜ୍ଞାତବାନ୍। ହମ ଈ ନହି ବୁଝଲହୁଁ। !

• You are disciplined, focused and can hold headstand for at least 10 minutes

  I like discipline (in the right circumstances), I am focused after my third cup of coffee, and I can hold a reverse headstand for about fifteen minutes before I have to sit down (I have a bad back).

• You’re a long-term thinker. You already have a plan to bring yoga and luon to Mars by 2018

  I think so far into the future, it wraps around to the past. I not only plan to bring yoga and luon (I must confess, I though luon was a subatomic particle), I'll bring along Tai Chi and Chai Tea, as well. And scones.

• You break all the rules like getting your OM-on (loudly) whenever the urge arises

  I can't tell from this sentence grammatically whether getting your OM-on (loudly) occurs before or after the rule is broken. At any rate, "OM" to me means "Old Man," a term in amateur radio for any male operator. Since I would have radio equipment in a corner of my executive office, I would in a manner of speaking "get my OM-on (loudly)" whenever the urge arose. But the underlying premise of this statement seems to me to be pretty shaky, since as CEO I can simply exempt myself from whatever rule it is to which you are referring. Case closed.

• You elevate and cultivate the level of talent within the senior leadership team by holding The Bachelor lululemon. Only one successful SVP will get the final rose

  This sounds like some Polynesian sacrificial ceremony that ends with the SVP holding the rose being thrown into a live volcano. I'm down with that, actually.

• Not only do you lead the organization to create components for people to live long, healthy and fun lives, you know the secret to how they got the caramel in the Caramilk bar

  I can do you one better. I'll show you how to get it out without disturbing the chocolate shell.

• You wear The Mansy to lead our company-wide morning chant and kombucha ritual

  I've always worn the Mansy in my family, thank you very much. I'll be happy to lead the company anywhere you like so long as there is coffee at the far end. I have no idea what kombucha is, but given your track record with rituals, I can make a pretty good guess.

the finer print

• Your go-to party trick is your dead-on impression of the yogi in “Sh*T Yogis Say”

  I'm more of the "Sh*T Yogi Said" kinda guy. It's like déjà vu, all over again.

• You voted for Pedro

  The only Pedro I ever knew was a donkey. I probably would have voted for him, though. Better to vote for the jackass you know than ballot for one you know not of.

• You have Chip Wilson, Bill Clinton, Ellen DeGeneres and Oprah Winfrey on speed dial

  I have Flip Wilson, Bill The Cat, Helen of Troy, and Opie Taylor on mine.

• You actively live and breathe the lululemon culture – on Friday afternoons you hit up wheatgrass and tequila shots (it’s called work/life balance)

  I actively live and breathe. I like culture in my buttermilk, cheese, yogurt, and movies. I hit wheatgrass any chance I get, with whatever blunt instrument is available (I prefer didgeridoos). I never hit tequila, especially if it's Patron Añejo.

• You use your third eye to channel innovation

  I have a total of twenty seven eyes. I had twenty-eight, but there was a sports accident where I lost both an eye and the associated hyphen. I can channel innovation on HF, VHF, UHF, and even microwave if you like. I can also channel Groucho Marx, James Thurber, Robert Benchley, and Cynric of Bedwyn, a late ninth-century Anglo-Saxon thegn.

• Your lineage is directly related to Phidippides

  I'm not aware of any spiders in my lineage, although since you're looking with someone with at least three eyes, I can see why you would ask. I may have a few velociraptors and possibly the odd Giant Moa in the woodpile, but no arachnids.

• You own yoga

  I did once briefly own a Yugo. Does that count? Yoga gives me a rash. And hives. And headaches. And gout. And scoliosis. And Cotard's Syndrome.

My Humor Publications

Some of my published humor:

Anthologies


Husbandology in My Funny Valentine

Cut Here To Open in My Funny Major Medical

Prince of Fools in Open Doors: Fractured Fairy Tales

I also have a paperback humor book out called Ex Mentis Saxonicum that is available via Paypal for $10 (plus shipping). Send a message to humor@greatambience.com for ordering information.

Parasites on Parrots

Somewhere, someone decided to take virtually everything offensive, grating, repulsive, asinine, inane, and absurd about human behavior and condense it into one reprehensible sewage pond called politics. In civilized democratic countries the citizenry are given, maybe, four weeks of campaign rhetoric to establish the platforms of the candidates and allow them to make up their minds for whom to vote. In America, however, political (expect)oration is blasted at us from every conceivable media orifice 24 hours a day for 18 months prior to a Presidential erection. It's enough to make you want to tear your ears off and stuff them in your ears.

I think I'm going to start a campaign to elect only the quietest candidates from here on out. When you go to the polls, make sure you vote for the person about whom you've heard the least. Maybe that will eventually drive the reverse behavior. I want to see political advertising be the kiss of death for candidates. Televised or local debates are fine, but no ads. Also, every time you tell me in hysterical, quivering language how bad your opponent is, I'm going to hold that against you. All negative comments count against the party making them, no matter who they're about. Those are my new rules. Call me the condom for political intercourse.

*****

There was another pretty convincing UFO filmed recently, this one in Kentucky, by an amateur astronomer and HAM. Looked like two fluorescent light bulbs side by side floating around in the sky. They both seemed to be pointing down at the same angle throughout the filming, though, so I'm going to call it some sort of kite covered with a shiny material. Or maybe the ghost of someone's newly-deceased garage lights.

I watched a video today that managed to cram just about every conspiracy theory I've ever come across into one narrative. I had to stop watching in the middle, though, because it mentioned Nazis and Hitler and I'm a firm adherent to Godwin's Law. Too bad; it was going well at the time. HAARP, Illuminati, DUMBs, little greys, Novus Ordo, and much more had already been worked in. My tinfoil hat was beginning to give off sparks, even.

I think the ultimate paranormal experience would be alien poltergeists. You know, the malicious ghosts of aliens who were killed when they crashed while buzzing Earth and are pissed about it. Maybe little greys are grey because they're dead. Ooh, how about alien zombies? Grey aliens searching for brains: not to eat, but to probe. Looks like my Halloween costume this year will be undead E.T.

In Malibu a spaceship crashed
A screaming dive into terrain
Now ALF-like zombie aliens stalk
Where Ken and Barbie once did walk
E.T. prowls in search of brains.

New Year’s Customs from Around the World

Excerpt #1 from Ex Mentis Saxonicum, available in paperback (140 pp.) from the author (rgferrell@gmail.com)

Whilst rummaging randomly through some of my notes (mostly B flats and G sharps), I lost sight of the horizon and plummeted headfirst into a pile of particularly dank pages. After close inspection and some drying in the sunlight, they proved to be cryptic little snatches concerning the New Year’s customs followed by various peoples at various periods in history. At least, I think this is what they’re about. They may be references to the use of copper bedpans during the Crimean war, or perhaps an analysis of the behavior patterns of Hoopoes (Upupa epops) during courtship flights over the coast of Brittany, but I’m fairly certain that they’ve got something to do with New Year’s customs. I’m going to present them, or as much of them as I can decipher, as though that were the case. If they don’t seem to make sense to you in this context, imagine how I feel.

Some ancient peoples put out fires on New Year’s, only to have them started right back up again by other equally ancient peoples. This behavior seems pointless, but it probably helped to while away the tedious hours during the long, bleak winters with nothing to eat but wooly mammoth jerky and yak’s milk. The ancient Romans gave each other gifts of branches from sacred trees as New Year’s gifts. Or at least they told each other they were from sacred trees. More likely they were wrenched off that sickly old shrub out behind the aqueduct when it finally succumbed to root rot. It was never a good idea to trust Romans on the subject of forestry. It was never a good idea to trust Romans.

They also gave each other gold-covered coins or nuts with the likeness of the two-faced god Janus engraved on them. I don’t know how one engraves on a nut, but I expect it is messy and frustrating, leading most probably to the fed up gift-giver simply chucking the whole project out the window and substituting a small rind of goat’s cheese with the image of Elvis outlined on it in mold. We’ve all done that, at one time or another.

The ancient Persians gave each other mice and catnip. No, wait, the ancient Persians gave each other eggs, to suggest productivity, or possibly to increase their calcium intake. All eggs suggest to me is omelet, but maybe I’m not reading this the right way. Maybe we’re not thinking of the same kind of eggs. Maybe I’d better shut up and move on before I get further away from the topic.

The Druids got rid of the mistletoe that had been accumulating on their trees all year by handing it out to their Celtic parishioners and calling it ‘sacred.’ "Here, my son, I bless you with this sprig of poisonous plant parasite. No, don’t hold it that way; you’ll put an eye out."

In 43 A. D. the untrustworthy Romans, who had been sailing around for quite a while looking for a new supply of sacred trees, landed in Britain, sore and stiff from the cramped voyage with nothing to eat but moldy cheese and aborted nut-sculptures. It took only 1,200 years for the progressive and quick-witted inhabitants to adopt the Roman custom of rulers asking their populace for New Year’s gifts. This custom died out in Rome because the royal palaces got so filled with dead tree branches that it became impossible to carry out any of the functions of government. In the British Isles, however, the rulers were a bit more clever, and demanded things like gold and jewelry as gifts. This was a period (roughly 1250 A. D. up to last Tuesday) of great prosperity for the British Crown, although the nut supply did run low on several occasions.

In Scotland the New Year brings a peculiar form of insanity (the Scots have as many varieties of insanity as Eskimos have of snow) that is characterized by collecting juniper and water at sunset, assigning different colors to the wind depending on the direction from which it blows, avoiding cats, beggars, women, or redheads as unlucky, and giving each other gifts of coal and whiskey. To make matters even worse, it is also considered bad luck to engage in marriage proposals, break glass, spin flax, sweep, or carry out garbage on New Year’s Eve. I’m a Scot on my mother’s side. Can you tell?

Down in Somerset, meanwhile, the largest tree that can be found is called the Apple Tree Man, for no readily apparent reason, especially given that it is not a man, at all. Apple cider is poured on its roots and lower branches, while cake and toasted bread soaked in cider are hung from the branches. Shouting, banging tin plates, firing shotguns, and splitting the bark of the tree are all carried out, supposedly to drive away evil spirits. I suspect that the enthusiasm, if not the deftness, with which these rituals are carried out is directly proportional to how much wassailing goes on immediately prior to the ceremonies. Songs and toasts are made with considerable abandon. Later, bands of men called (imaginatively) wassails go from house to house with a wassail bowl collecting money. There is evidently nothing that can be done about this.

Many American colonists celebrated the New Year by firing guns into the air and shouting. These early settlers had an ingenious arrangement whereby the colonists on the first floor did the shooting, which was followed immediately by those on the second floor shouting, often accompanied by a loud thumping or flopping. New Year’s wasn’t by all accounts a really safe time to be higher in elevation than the rest of the celebrants. Another custom of this period was to choose a random passage from whatever translation of the Bible happened to suit your lifestyle best and then use various parts of it to predict what would happen in the coming year. This practice eventually evolved into the Congressional budget process still in use today.

I like to celebrate New Year’s by stuffing myself silly and then sleeping the rest of the day, but then I’m just a superstitious old fool.

Games for Girls

            An essential component of the Ferrell household standard bathroom equipment manifest is a basket near the toilet containing a variety of reading material. Most of this fine literature takes the form of cartoon compilations (for me) or flower arranging/embroidery books (for my wife), but every now and then something odd will creep into the stable. Today I was riffling through the deepest stratum of the bathroom inventory when I came across a little pink tome titled, AGames for Girl Scouts.@ 

That’s a real head-scratcher: we don=t have any children personally, and nor are there any tots in what might be termed our neighborhood (we live in the middle, or at least on the edge, of nowhere) who could carelessly have left such a volume in or near the aforementioned facilities. Having read all the cartoon books cover to cover several dozen times and not feeling particularly receptive to discovering cunning new ways to arrange Stargazer lilies in a cut glass vase, I opted to thumb through the anomalous codex. 

            As I read through the respectable collection of activities suggested for keeping a dozen squealing young girls entertained while scout leader tries desperately to think of some excuse to have next week's meeting at someone else's house, I couldn’t help but think that the games themselves were hopelessly outdatedBnot surprising since the copyright dates for the book were 1949 and 1969. In the interest of contributing to more topical living rooms and backyards everywhere, I have decided to modernize a few of the most hopelessly antiquated examples.    

          

Math Mirth

Two goals are marked out, several yards apart, representing the Aboardroom@ and the Afederal courthouse.@ One player is the Aprosecutor,@ another the ACEO,@ and the rest the Aaccountants.@  The CEO arranges her accountants in a compact group, then leads them close to the courthouse and asks, AIf you please, Ms. Prosecutor, have you any indictments?@ If the Prosecutor replies, Ano,@ the accountants are safe and free to hide capital gains or otherwise doctor the books. After a few moments the CEO once again stands between the prosecutor and accountants and asks her question. If the answer is, Ayes,@ they must run to the boardroom. The prosecutor chases them. If any of the accountants are caught, they are taken to the courthouse and Aincarcerated@ and the next round begins. When all the accountants are doing time or if the CEO herself is caught, the game is over.

Cheerleader Moms

Two girls are chosen as Amoms,@ the rest are Acheerleaders.@ Each mom secretly picks a cheerleader as her own and using ping-pong balls tries to Atake out@ all the other cheerleaders by hitting each of them with a ball without getting caught. If a mom is seen throwing the ball by the other mom, she is Aout@ and the game starts again. Play continues until one mom takes out all the cheerleaders but her own or there aren’t enough girls left to carry on. No one actually wins.

Migration

One girl is chosen for each of the following Acivilization@ roles: ASUV,@ AMega-Mart, AUrban Sprawl,@ and ASlash and Burn.@ The rest are Aendangered species@ and represent the Aenvironment.@  Two Ahabitats@ are marked out, approximately ten yards apart. Half the endangered species start at one habitat, the remaining half at the one opposite, while the civilization girls stand midway between the habitats. The endangered species must run to the opposite habitat without being tagged by civilization. Tagged species are Aextinct@ and leave the game. The surviving species must then return to their original habitat, once again without being tagged. If any of the endangered species makes the round trip untagged, the environment wins. Otherwise civilization wins and everyone dies from some super pandemic caused by a lack of genetic diversity. Bummer.

War on Terror

All the girls get together in a huddle and accuse each other of hating democracy until one of them is labeled a Aterrorist@ and held in solitary confinement without benefit of counsel; i.e., she is out of the game. The process repeats until only one girl is left. She declares Amission accomplished@ and lobbies Congress to have the 22^nd Amendment repealed so she can stay in office for life. At that point the game is over and everyone else emigrates.

I should probably stop before I get bitter.

Cruise Lose

           Congratulations, bargain-savvy traveler, on your choice of a Minimal Cholera Cruise Lines economy cruise aboard our proud flagship, the M/S Abrasion. Your adventure in thrifty vacationing begins sharply at 0400 the day prior to your departure as you form a queue for the pre-boarding boarding (boing!) queue. You will notice three areas denoted by ‘condiment’ trails on the floor of the loading dock (which to keep our costs down doubles as a slaughterhouse when not in use for boarding): the ‘ketchup’ area is for our Premium-class passengers, who will be processed in the luxury pens with mosquito netting on the left, and naturally will be boarded long before you even glimpse the ship; the ‘mustard’ area is for Cruise-class passengers who will have no more than a thirty-six hour wait to board; and the ‘expired mayonnaise’ area is reserved for Economy-class passengers, also known by the technical term ‘ballast.’ While there are no seats in the Economy-class waiting area, passengers are welcome to make use of the hooks suspended from chains attached to the ceiling every twenty feet for their convenience. Bring along paper towels for an optimal experience.

            As soon as the Cruise-class passengers have completed the pre-boarding process and are boarding the ship along the Cruise-class gangplank through the engine room, the Economy-class pre-boarding will begin. During pre-boarding you will be divested of any cash, credit cards, weapons, or dignity you may be carrying in order to ensure your “safety.” (Thanks for the idea, TSA!) You will be issued an MCCL “Power of Attorney” Card that you can use to charge alcoholic beverages, upgrades to show seating, spa visits, potable water, breathing air, and final resting place arrangements. Your photo and a DNA sample will be taken to simplify identification of bodies by the Coast Guard. You may also purchase elegantly framed copies of this photo or the printout of your DNA electrophoresis gel using the POA Card.

            When all Economy-class passengers have undergone the pre-boarding humiliation process, boarding can begin. Passengers will enter the boarding catapult and be given one free chance to land on either the fore or aft decks. If the initial attempt is unsuccessful, passengers will be fished out of the water and may elect to place the charge for trying again on the POA Card.

            Once on board, all passengers will report immediately to their assigned cabins to prepare for the abandon ship drill. Economy-class cabins are located in the lower decks, just below the engine room, in the area known in nautical terminology as the “bilge.” Access to the Economy-class cabins is provided via a series of ladders located on the extreme stern end of the ship. Passenger baggage will be lowered via a block and tackle system located on the lowest deck served by elevators, the Thresher deck. Gratuities for the baggage manglers will be charged to your POA Card.

            As soon as passengers have reached their cabins, they should immediately don their life vests by removing the cushions from their cabin chairs and slipping their arms through the straps on the lower side. Thus equipped, they should report to their assigned evacuation assembly points, which for economy-class passengers are located in front of the retro-fitted torpedo tubes that run alongside the main engine shafts. Diving masks to minimize eye damage in case of emergency evacuation are available for a fee that will be charged to your POA Card.

            After the abandon ship drill has been completed, passengers are free to return to their cabins. Economy-class cabins are configured a bit differently from all others. Once you have replaced the two chair cushions, stand on one of the chairs, hug the left wall as closely as possible, and pull the lever on that wall just above your head. This will drop the bed from the ceiling. Be certain any other occupants of the cabin are standing out in the gangway prior to dropping the bed to avoid concussions. If you do get a concussion, a small complimentary service charge will appear on your POA Card.

            There is a hatch in the floor of each cabin that provides storage space for your luggage. Please make use of the complimentary plastic zip bags before you store items in the floor compartment, as it gets a bit damp down there. If the door is difficult to open, climb up to the engine room and ask one of the mechanic’s mates for some oil.  The resident rats will not bother you so long as you keep them well-fed and avoid placing or retrieving luggage with the scent of cheese on your hands. Rat bites will be charged to your POA Card.

            The M/S Abrasion has a wide variety of entertainment, some of which can be accessed by Economy-class passengers (hereafter referred to as “Ecs”). On the Lusitania Deck there are three Casinos available to Ecs: Loaded Dice, Five Aces, and House Wins. Minimum bet is $5 at all tables and maximum winnings are $250. Losses are limited to the tax-accessed value of your total real property, plus interest. All losses and winnings will be deducted from your POA Card.

            While the Piano Bars are reserved for Cruise and Premium class passengers, Ecs may visit either the Accordion or Cowbell Bars on the Morro Castle Deck. To reduce the hazards of second-hand smoke to our non-smoking passengers, smoking is allowed only at odd-numbered tables. Cover charges and mandatory tips will be placed on the POA Card.

            For Ecs kiddies, the Cyclops Deck is the Place to Be. We’ve combined our popular petting zoo and ball pit play zones into a new concept that is exclusive to the M/S Abrasion: the Ball Python Pit. There is also the Marine-go-round, where children maneuver on the rotating ship’s wheel, trying not to be the one flung through an open porthole when it suddenly stops Flingees may be retrieved for a nominal charge to your POA Card.

If none of these activities hits the spot, grab the swim trunks and head up to the Andrea Doria Deck and our unique Adventurequarium, where kids can actually swim with such exotic sea creatures as lionfish, stonefish, stingrays, and blue-ringed octopus. Resuscitation, antivenin, emergency amputation, or any other medical procedures resulting from Adventurequarium encounters will be billed to your POA Card.

            The jogging track, tennis courts, and miniature golf course of the uppermost decks are off limits to Ecs, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get in a little fun in the sun. On both the port and starboard sides of Grandcamp Deck there are nets strung exclusively for our Ecs. Merely leap from the deck into the net (don’t miss) and enjoy the sun for as long as you like. When you’ve had enough sun, just crawl over to one end and drop off on the deck below. Try to hit the foam mats placed there for your safety (unless some prankster has run off with them again). Any resulting medical charges will, of course, be placed on your POA Card.

            We have even arranged an exciting shore adventure exclusively for Ecs. On day four of your cruise we will be docking off the beautiful uninhabited archipelago of Puerto de Ratas while we rendezvous with a refueling tanker and any of our Ecs who wish may climb down the starboard ladder, jump in the warm waters of the lagoon, and swim to shore to explore a wild, untamed Caribbean island. We advise anyone who wants to take part in this excursion to please report to the medical office the day prior to receive a series of precautionary inoculations. Re-boarding will be accomplished by slinging a rope over from the lowest deck and hauling Ecs back up one at a time. All of this will, naturally, be charged to your POA Card.

            When we return to our home port, Ecs are free to disembark as soon as the last of the crew has left. Once you have cleared customs through the disembarkation chutes, Ecs passengers may pick through the baggage pile on the dock and carry away any fragments of their belongings that may have survived the drop from the Quarterdeck.

            Thank you for sailing with Minimal Cholera Cruise Lines and we hope that, in the unlikely event you succeed in paying off the POA Card and choose to join us on the High Seas once more, you won’t be such an insufferable cheapskate.