Posts Tagged ‘blog: fiction’.

IMPORTANT RECAP of the basketball team pick-times

If you missed the NBA draft last night, don’t worry! I watched all the drama unfold live, and have a handy recap for you right here.

Stuff to make you feel OLD!!

Here are a few facts to BLOW YOUR MIND if you want to feel OLD!!!

  • Latvia’s post-Cold War declaration of independence happened closer to the moon landing than the present day.
  • The release of New Coke happened closer to Alaska becoming a U.S. state than the present day.
  • The Bay of Pigs invasion happened closer to Mussolini’s assumption of power in Italy than to the capture of Saddam Hussein in his spider hole.
  • The Los Angeles Summer Olympics happened closer to the founding of the Republic of Bangladesh than to the release of Windows 98.
  • The premiere of the first film featuring Donald Duck happened closer to the present day than to the succession of King Johann to the throne of Saxony.
  • The Battle of Guadalcanal happened closer to the ratification of the Twenty-Third Amendment than to the birth of Russian lexicographer Vladimir Dal.
  • Venezuela’s declaration of independence from Spain happened closer to the same declaration by Paraguay than to the present day.
  • The formation of the universe happened closer to the Cretaceous–Paleogene boundary than the present day.
  • The succession of Osman III (1754–1757) as Ottoman Emperor, replacing Mahmud I, happened closer to John Flamsteed’s initial sighting of Uranus than to my graduation from high school.
  • The first flight of the Space Shuttle happened closer to the present day than to the Battle of Agincourt.

Ha ha, you’re OLD!!!

Fiction: A Few Words From Leonard Ramirez, First Co-President of the United States

The latest from my ongoing interminable series “Rejected by McSweeney’s.”

Good afternoon, Mr. President; Madam Secretary; members of the press corps; ladies and gentlemen.

When I first received a call from the election commission informing me that, due to an obscure and little-understood bylaw in our nation’s founding documents, the Supreme Court was, for the first time ever, Constitutionally obligated to name a Co-President of the United States, I was, to say the least, surprised.

When the gentleman on the phone went on to say that, due to the ratio between the popular vote total in the Northern states and the balance of party power in the Senate, divided by the number of property owners in the state of Virginia, this rare and never-before-executed provision had mathematically selected me, Leonard Ramirez, assistant general manager of Penn Hills Radio Shack in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, to serve as co-president alongside Barack Obama, I was extremely surprised.

We need not review the curious and protracted process by which I came to actually assume this office. I urge us to put the partisan rancor of the last several months behind us. The many slanderous statements and incredulous, stammering protests uttered in the Supreme Court challenge that I survived will forever remain a part of that Court’s permanent record; let us keep our high spirits by not repeating them here.

I did not ask for this unprecedented position; I did not expect it; but I see no option but to rise to it. And so, as co-president, I would like to offer my assistance to President Obama in any way that I can.

Mr. President, please let me know if there’s anything I can do. My desk, just on the other side of the hastily-erected cubicle wall in the Oval Office that you have no doubt noticed, is very close to yours, so you should be able to just speak loudly, or come over and ask whatever you like. If you’re out of the office, or on Air Force One or in another country, I’m told that you have been given a special walkie-talkie that can connect you to me at any time. It looks like this one. Do you have it? Okay. It’s okay if you don’t have it with you. I’ve got mine, so, whenever you need, just hit the Talk button. Mine’s set on Channel Two, but if you prefer a different channel, just let me know. I’m happy to accommodate.

I’ve been asked if I plan to sit in on Cabinet meetings, or visit foreign dignitaries, or address Congress. My answer to these, and every similar query, is the same: if I can be of help, then I am happy to. Mr. President, if you are busy with your family, and you’d prefer me to go visit troops in Afghanistan or have a meeting with Hugo Chavez, all you have to do is ask. I am no longer married, and I only have my daughter on alternate weekends, so I have a lot of free time. I’ve also been in touch with my general manager over at Penn Hills Radio Shack, Nancy Ranmuller. She has agreed to allow me as much time off as I need. So, again, I am at your disposal for that.

I do speak a little bit of Spanish, but not very much. Mainly just greetings, curse words, and the names of foods. If Hugo Chavez wants to talk to me about brunch, I won’t even need an interpreter! Just a little joke. I would in actuality be happy to avail myself of the services of an official White House interpreter. It would probably be for the best. I should also say that I am fair to decent at taking notes. I could meet with you after the meeting and we could go over what was said, sort of talk it out and make sure we’re both on the same page. I will try my best to keep any random doodles “president-friendly.”

Mr. President, I also know that it must be very difficult for you to split your attention among the many pressing issues facing this nation, including the economy, concerns about jobs and unemployment, health care reform, and rising tensions overseas. Again, I want to put myself at your disposal. If you want to think just about unemployment for a while, I’m here to run interference for you. I can hold a press conference, or conduct an interview with 60 Minutes. Or, I can discuss one issue with the Cabinet, while you meet with leaders in Congress about something else. Later, we can compare notes, and that way in case the other person has to go to the other meeting the next day, we’re both up to speed on everything that’s been discussed.

The last election was among the most divisive in our nation’s history. Mr. President, I feel I should come clean and admit that did I not vote for you. I did not vote for anyone, because I forgot what time the polls closed, and also I did not have a ride. Nancy Ranmuller was supposed to take me after work, but she had to go pick up her kids, because of some mix-up with her husband that I do not know the details of. As co-president I am willing to be flexible about things like that, because I do not have a family of my own, except for alternate weekends when my daughter and I read books in silence. I almost got remarried once, but it did not work out for reasons too complicated to explain. I do get Secret Service protection, though, right? In case she shows up at the White House?

Just another little joke. I think she is unlikely to show up at the White House. Even I had to take a cab because I could not find it at first. Anyway, because of my family situation I can always stay late at the office, or run to pick something up if you and Michelle are busy or need an extra hand. I am not much of a cook but I can do simple things like rice and eggs pretty well. I also don’t snore and usually have clean towels on hand in case you need to crash at my place for any reason, or if I have to stay overnight at the White House I’ll try not to be a bother. I do sometimes like to watch television in the evenings, but if you would rather go to bed early, it’s okay if I miss an episode of something. It’s really not a big deal; I can always read a recap the next day. Although I think you would agree that it’s not the same.

I would just like to conclude by saying that I am really very excited for this opportunity. There has never been a co-president in our nation’s history. But our Founders must have written it into the Constitution for a reason.

Mr. President, I know this is an awkward situation for the both of us. Believe me, I’m as nervous as you are. And since we have to work together, I hope we can make the best of it. I’ll try to remember to bring headphones to the Oval Office and if my music is ever too loud, please just let me know. I’ve already labeled all my food in the fridge so there should be no confusion. I will now take questions.

My Sherlock Holmes fanfiction

Last week I was invited to write and read a piece of original self-insert fanfiction as part of Mike Betette’s “Fan Friction” show at M.i.’s Westside Comedy Theater!


Fiction: Totally Plausible Ways I Could Talk To The Girl Who Lives In My Building

I present the latest in my irregular series “Rejected by McSweeney’s.” A work of fiction.

Totally Plausible Ways I Could Talk To The Girl Who Lives In My Building

1. She is coming in from walking her dog, the leash in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other. I hold the door open for her. She says “thanks.” A conversation starts, perhaps about the dog, perhaps about the groceries (“just out buying dog food?”, etc).

2. The water is off in the building while some sort of repair is being done. While in the courtyard tending to my herb garden, through her apartment’s open window I hear her mutter to herself that she is thirsty. I stand up so that she notices me through the window, then jokingly hold up my watering can and indicate that I have water left in there, if she really wants some. I indicate that this is a joke, but add that I have bottles of water in my apartment.

3. I am checking my car’s oil in the parking garage. She sees me under the hood and, figuring me for the mechanical type, asks a question about a “kind of intermittent rattle or squeak” emanating from near the front left wheel of her 1997 Honda Prelude. I have noticed this squeak before, so I have previously consulted Wikipedia and several auto forums, and can confidently recommend that she get her control arm bushings checked out, or it could be a wheel bearing.

4. I see her at the farmers’ market. She makes eye contact without recognizing who I am, so I freeze and say nothing. She buys some rhubarb and chard, and I buy the same without knowing what either tastes like or what I would use it for. I casually mention to the seller how convenient the market is, considering that I live just down the street in the white building. At this, the girl turns and recognizes me. I pretend to recognize her for the first time as well, and we both laugh.

5. Across the street, a car catches fire. Neighbors gather on the sidewalk to watch the fire trucks arrive. She comes out onto her patio, asks what happened, and I explain. I then ask if she would like to review video of the fire that I captured on my phone, and walk over to her patio. Once there, I comment on her barbecue grill. I mention that I have an extra propane tank that I will never get around to using, and ask if she wants it. From here we discuss the merits of propane vs. charcoal grilling. She doesn’t seem too interested, but I have read about it on Wikipedia beforehand so I have lots of factoids that keep the conversation moving.

6. A drive-by shooting occurs in our neighborhood. I see her walking down the sidewalk with her dog, see the gangbangers’ car approaching with its headlights off, see their intended target, do mental geometry, and realize that she is likely to be struck by stray shots. I vault over my patio railing and knock her to the ground, just as bullets rip through the air where she just was. She drops the dog’s leash, but I quickly snag it with my free hand to prevent the dog from running into traffic. She is scared and thankful, but I am simply grateful that she is all right. The gangbangers speed off, so unnerved by my sudden action that they also missed their intended target.

7. The national economy collapses, and riots break out nationwide. I have stockpiled weapons and provisions in my apartment. I invite her to stay with me until it all calms down. Faced with the prospect of otherwise having to eat her dog, she moves in and I teach her how to shoot a Sig Sauer P226.

8. She becomes President of the United States. Reporters eager to dig up dirt on her past knock on my door. I lie to get onto television, but once the cameras roll I say only nice things. Impressed with my bold stand, she appoints me her Chief of Staff, and from then on we speak practically daily.

9. I get into a revert war with another Wikipedian regarding the prose style of the article on Railway Stations of New Jersey. During heated discussion on the talk page, the other editor uses the term “cockadilly nonsense,” which I have only ever heard before with my ear pressed against my apartment wall, attempting to overhear her telephone conversations. I immediately rush outside, knock on her door, and when she answers, dressed like me in animal-spangled pajama pants, I whisper “This is a stupid thing to fight about.” After we make love, she concedes that I was correct that the article suffered from a critical lack of encyclopedic tone.