Category: Just for Fun

There are lines spoken by characters in various movies that have crept into my own everyday language, serving as a kind of shorthand. Some of these lines have slipped into a lot of people’s speech–maybe even yours.

1. Mandy Patinkin, to the villain with six fingers, in The Princess Bride: “Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.” The fact that he’s holding a sword when he says this lends credibility.

2. Roy Scheider in Jaws, having just looked down the gullet of the meanest shark in the ocean: “You’re gonna need a bigger boat.” Yes, many situations turn out to be a lot more challenging than you expected.

3. The Mexican bandit, Gold Hat, to Humphrey Bogart in Treasure of the Sierra Madre: “We don’t need no stinkin’ badges!” You can replace “badges” with just about any word you happen to need at the moment. As in, “We don’t need no stinkin’ cat license!”

4. The Witch to her slowly-being-hypnotized victims in The Silver Chair: “There is no sun…” Just like there’s no left-wing bias in the “news” media.

5. Stan Laurel to Oliver Hardy in Block-Heads: “Remember how dumb I used to be? Well, I’m better now.” Uh-huh.

I could keep this up all day, but those five above will always be among my favorites.

What are some of yours?

The papers and the airwaves have been full of news of “something big” planned by “Al-Qaeda on steroids,” the biggest terrorist strike ever, we’re on the alert, embassies shut down, Benghazi really pumped them up to think they can blow our brains out anytime, anywhere…

Now, don’t you feel like a right dickey-doo-dah for not wanting the NSA spying on you? Now can you see they only peek into your bank account to keep us safe from jihad maniacs?

So if “something big” really does happen, they’ll say “See! We told you!” And if it doesn’t happen, they’ll say “See! We nipped it in the bud!” Either way, it’ll be, “And we never would’ve known about it if we didn’t have the NSA spy-on-everybody program!”

Why is this business so oddly reminiscent of the Great Mark McGwire–Sammy Sosa Home Run Race? What’s that nasty smell in the background?

In other news this weekend, we hear of a newly-discovered “sex tape” that reveals “how Monica Lewinsky seduced Bill Clinton.” Does anybody believe there would be any difficulty involved in “seducing” Bill Clinton? Are we being asked to believe that this predatory wench led our poor, unsuspecting president astray?

America’s news media–all fantasy, all the time.

And now for something completely different…

Just a subtle reminder that this blog exists to drum up interest in my books–the Bell Mountain series of fantasy novels. Just click on “Books” and you’ll see them all. Will you please at least look at them? I mean, really…!

In contrast with the fantasies and tall tales put out there by our “news” media, my fantasies are clearly labeled as products of the imagination, and beyond the price of a book–paperback or Kindle–will cost you nothing.

I have no idea what “news” fantasies wind up costing America, but I’m sure it runs up into the trillions of dollars.

At least you can put a book on the shelf and read it again sometime. So, while we still have some freedom left, c’mon–give my books a whirl.

For me, the answer to that question very much depends on what kind of a day it’s been for me. Yesterday, for instance, we had the plumber here for three hours (after he stood us up, two days in a row) and then the crown fell off one of my teeth. In one day, a couple weeks’ earnings went up in smoke.

To relax, that night we watched (on youtube, at no charge) an episode of Detective Inspector Banks. Somehow this failed to take my mind off my troubles. In this story, a high police official is blackmailed into feeding confidential police information to a gangster, and winds up committing suicide. Meanwhile his wife accidentally murders their beloved daughter… and so on. You get the picture.

So for reading in bed I turned to Freddy and the Ignormus, by Walter R. Brooks, in which Freddy the Pig (not a nickname–he really is a pig) comes up against one of the most puzzling cases of his whole detective career.

Under the circumstances, Freddy was my favorite detective.

At other times it’s Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot, Miss Marple, or Australia’s Inspector Napoleon Bonaparte. I also wish there were more George Gently episodes, but the new ones aren’t finished yet.

Which fictional detective floats your boat?

As to the reasons for liking or not liking detective stories in general… well, I’ll have to get into that another time. Maybe after I’ve seen the dentist.

PS–I know if I link to “Napoleon Bonaparte,” it’ll just take you to that little guy from Corsica. So try Bony’s creator, Arthur Upfield, instead.

 

Miller dinosaurs–I’ll always love ’em!

I’m prone to nostalgia, and there are many things I miss–like drive-in movies, wax dinosaurs by the Miller Company, half a shelf-full of Andre Norton at the library, the Constitution… But there are also things I don’t miss. True, our culture deteriorates steadily, and its overall condition was better in the past than it is now. Still, here are a few relics which I hope never come back.

1. Jeans commercials. I still break out in a cold sweat if I think I hear You’ve got the look… This was back in the 1970s, and they got chumps to pay exorbitant prices for a pair of jeans, thinking it would make them hip or sexy. The ads generally featured a really skinny couple ogling each other like a pair of gargoyles. One brand was advertised as “dangerous.” Feh!

2. Tony Orlando and Dawn singing “Tie a Yellow Ribbon.” I am well aware that we have music today that makes this piece sound like a Bach cantata. But it struck me as pretty horrible at the time, and it strikes me as pretty horrible now.

3. Amy Fisher and Joey Buttafuco. This pair of schlubs rose to prominence a couple decades ago with their vomit-inducing story of sex among hideous orang-utans. Stupid gavone gets involved with idiot young floozy, who shoots his wife so she can have him all to herself… yechh! This case generated I dunno how many made-for-TV movies, plus whole books and an infinity of newspaper and magazine articles. If it ever came back, it would probably cause the end of the world.

4. Hippies. All right, they haven’t really gone away. They grew up to become the Democrat Party and trash the country. So they’re much more harmful now than they ever were. Still, it was mostly the hippie movement that made the 1960s the decade in which America began irretrievably to roll off the cliff. If you are unfamiliar with hippies because you’re too young, just imagine a bunch of Occupy Wall Street-ers who are too lazy to start a riot.

5. “Scientific proof” that you should buy the sponsor’s product. Guys in lab coats with charts showing “the valley of fatigue” and demonstrating the “nasograph.” True, this kind of thing was vastly more harmless than “scientific proof”–that is, false data–that the earth is warming and we’d better give the government huge, undreamed-of powers, plus all our money, so schmucks like Harry Reid and Nancy Pelosi and that golem in the White House can save us from “climate change.”

That’s enough from me. I’m sure you can think of a few cultural icons you rejoice to see no more. Don’t be bashful–tell us about them.

Who is the most prolific novelist of all time? Do you know? Can you guess?

I always thought it was John Creasy. Born 1908, died 1973, Creasy wrote under 28 pseudonyms and had over 600 of his novels published–mystery and crime novels, spy thrillers, romances, and westerns. His first book was published in 1930, and he was only 65 when he died. So that’s 600 books in 43 years, for an average of almost 14 novels per year.

And lest you think he just cranked out a lot of rubbish, in 1962 he won an Edgar Award for Gideon’s Fire, and in 1969 was voted a Grand Master Award by the Mystery Writers of America.

But I was wrong. The most prolific novelist ever was not John Creasy.

It was Barbara Cartland.

Dame Barbara (1901-2000) lived longer than Creasy and had a longer career, and more than 700 (!) of her novels were published, starting in 1922. She started with flashy, controversial, “sex among the rich and famous” novels, then settled down to write historical romances.

In fact, her career is still going on–she left at least 160 unpublished novels, which ought to be enough to hold her fans for the next few decades.

In 1983 Barbara Cartland wrote 23 novels.

I must remember this, the next time I feel moved to describe myself as a productive and prolific writer.

Somehow I’ve gotten a small reputation as “someone who knows all about weird animals.” Yesterday, in fact, three different people asked me three different questions. Just call me Mark Trail.

*”How do you tell a deadly poisonous coral snake from harmless snakes that look just like it? I mean, I think I’ve got one in my magazine rack…” [Answer: coral snakes are the only red, yellow, and black-ringed snakes in which the red and yellow rings are adjacent to each other. Hence the ancient rhyme, “Red and yellow, kill a fellow.”]

*”Armadillos are digging up my house, and I want to trap them. What bait should I use?” [Answer: We don’t have many chances to trap armadillos in New Jersey. My guess is that, since armadillos eat ants, bait your trap with a piece of bread with jelly on it. That’ll draw ants. I guess…]

*”Can you get rid of this horrible big spider for me? He just ducked under the aluminum siding.” [Answer: From your description, and because I’ve been seeing them around here lately, I think you’ve got a male jumping spider who’s probably searching for a mate. He ducked because jumping spiders are among the very few spiders who can actually see you coming; and when they do, they always hide or run away. You won’t get bitten unless you grab the little hairy fellow in your bare hand. And why would you ever want to do that?]

I have been elected to this post without campaigning for it. Oh, well… send your inquiries to this blog and I’ll see what I can do.

Are you ready to give your imagination a workout? Good–here goes.

I love prehistoric animals. I don’t believe in evolution, but I do love fossils. And one of the strangest fossils ever known to science is that of a creature dubbed “the whorl-toothed shark.” (There are pictures available at many websites. For instance, check out the article on Wired Science Blogs/Laelaps.)

All they’ve got of this creature is a coiled-up strap of… teeth. It looks like somebody coiled it so it would fit in a toolbox. The mystery is where it fit on the shark.

In 1899 the original discoverer imagined it attached to the shark’s snout. That wasn’t entirely convincing, so later reconstructions attached it to the shark’s back, the lower jaw, or inside the shark’s throat. The structure of the thing called to mind a rolled party favor–the kind you blow on to make it shoot out. Scientists tried to imagine the shark doing something like that when it encountered a school of prey fish. Blaaap! Whick-whick-whick! Instant sushi.

The bottom line is, they still don’t know. Sharks have cartilaginous skeletons, so it’s very rare for anything to be preserved but the teeth. But here we have a whole collection of teeth in an arrangement seen nowhere else in nature, and no one has been able to imagine the living animal in a way that provokes a response of, “Oh, yeah–that must’ve been the way it was.”

Far be it from me to suggest that the shark carried the strap of teeth in a toolbox and snapped one off when needed.

But I do suggest, as a general rule, that when something in nature looks so strange as to defy analysis… well, maybe it isn’t really what it looks like.

A little idea popped into my head last night.

I’ve been reading The Lord of the Rings for the umpteenth time, and I wondered what Middle-Earth would be like long after the events described in the book. And then I thought of something rather awful.

What if Middle-Earth, or Narnia, or any other fantasy world, were suddenly endowed with television? Imagine if some wizard brought in TV, and it was available everywhere so that everyone could see it: and imagine it broadcast the same dreck we get on our TV. How long would it take the Kardashians, Honey Boo-Boo, hebephrenic soap operas, sports commentators, and cable news networks to completely ravage and destroy the native culture? What would exposure to all this rancid goop do to Hobbits, Elves, Dwarves, and Men? (Well, we already know what it does to poor old Homo sapiens, don’t we?)

I wouldn’t write it quite like that, of course, out of respect for the late Professor Tolkien. I’d have to create a brand-new fantasy world–just for the purpose of destroying it. I don’t know if I’m up to that. It might even be some sort of literary crime.

I wonder how long it would take TV to turn Orcs into a cherished, pampered minority.

 

Let’s have a little fun today. Here are a few of my all-time favorite fantasy characters, with a bit about what makes them my favorites.

1. Gollum from The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings. Oh, yess, my precious–nice Smeagol, as nice as fisssh, sss! Maybe it’s because I can do a really good Gollum imitation. Maybe it’s because it’s so easy to imagine Gollum doing a commercial for Viagra or Cialis. He’s also the only sushi fancier in all of Middle-Earth–a truly unique character.

2. Lord Gro in The Worm Ouroboros. He’s the smartest character in the book, and yet he can’t shake a need to be on the side that’s losing. So he’s always switching sides–the wrong way. It’s the only way he can express his integrity! You’d think it would be confusing, but it’s fascinating.

3. Puddleglum in The Silver Chair (part of The Chronicles of Narnia). The dolorous Marsh-wiggle always expects the worst and never misses a chance to say so; but he keeps plugging away where an optimist might have long since given up–and his faith, in the end, is stronger than anyone else’s. Tom Baker (Dr. Who) plays Puddleglum in the old BBC rendition of the story. Once you’ve seen it, you can’t help loving this character.

4. Mr. and Mrs. Webb in the Freddy the Pig books. A middle-aged, happily-married pair of spiders, the Webbs are always ready to shine when the chips are down. They also give an occasional lecture, having met some famous spiders in their travels, sell war bonds, and give good advice–which is difficult because, being so small, it’s hard for anyone to hear them.

5. Mr. Toad from The Wind in the Willows. What can you say? The guy is irresistible. You just can’t keep him down! Which is another way of saying that he never learns his lesson.

6. Wytt from my own Bell Mountain books. Only the size of a squirrel, and utterly fearless, he’ll take on any foe regardless of size. If his little sharpened stick won’t do the job, he’s sure to think of something! His table manners leave something to be desired, though.

There, that’s half a dozen of them. I look forward to seeing who else y’all might add to the list.