High Speed Dirt

Greetings flesh bags. It's been a while, and I can't say I've missed you. Since my last review, I've gained a few hundred pounds, broken an opposable digit, and have lost all interest in blogging - reading, writing, and reviewing. The good lady hid my PS3 controller to accelerate my healing, and I haven't hunted a dim-witted herbivore in the last month. I am PISSED off and sure as hell hope I'm reviewing fuckin' Wodehouse today.

No? Fuck me and my broken claw then. "My Tumbling Thoughts to the World ...beware, here I come" (fuck, fuck, fuck) treats visitors with a list of "Amazing people who make me go on n on n on:)". I had flashbacks of karaoke nights in a basement bar, peanut shells, the overwhelming smell of urine, and asshole frats "ironically" singing Journey. And they ask me why I hate people.

When I visit a new blog, I usually page down to the bottom to get a quick look at the sidebar, template and general design. Not that I care about aesthetics, but historically speaking - crappier the sidebar, worse the content. But hey, if she has so many awards, she must be AWESOME right?

Sure, English is not your first language Suruchi, but must you make it so hard? You're a teacher, and your profile reads

I think I am wise, which makes me the unwisest of all theoretically...but rest assured, I can be what I wanna be and there's so much in me that I wanna share

If this were the first class of the course, I'd be getting ready to drop it right about now.

So what does a harebrained teacher write about? There's advice on kissing, new-age bullshit, and random thoughts no one deserves to be subjected to. It's one part emo, two part mommy blog - but complete bullshit whichever way you slice it. You yack about how you're different and how wise you are. But your writing simply can't shake off the unmistakable smell of bullshit.

I had a lot of trouble getting through your writing, and a small part of it was due to your frequent switching to Indianese. There's nothing wrong in using other languages in passing if they're translated (or obvious) and used in the proper context. But "writing" like you're "talking", and all the time at that is utter tripe. Also, you do know that writing like *this* is to *emphasize* something, and that the helpful duo (parentheses) are used to interject sentences? Right? Right? *RIGHT*? And, why in the name of Vishnu do Indians use so many ellipses? You have a full sized keyboard, and presumably a normal sized brain, what's the deal with the chat acronyms?

You don't seem to check yourself in light of your identity for all to see, but is this the best you can do? We get people who can't reach their full potential because their mothers and cube neighbors are frequent visitors, and we advise them to go anonymous just to explore their boundaries. I'd suggest the same for you, but only to spare your loved ones from the trash you churn out.

This showcases almost everything that's wrong with your writing. When you aren't stabbing grammar in the balls with a corkscrew, you get all cutesy, mix up tenses, styles of speech, overuse ellipses, use languages I don't understand. Even if I were to ignore fuckin' ALL of that, there's absolute no substance in a page long post. And for God's sake SAY FUCK WHEN YOU MEAN FUCK.

An hour at her blog, and I was down three glasses of my cigar malt but got nowhere close to finding something redeeming. To entertain myself, I began scrolling wildly, and came up with a composite post from a page of Suruchi's manure farm.

Presenting... the best post ever.

And suddenly I hear moans...
She put her fingers lovingly against the flaccid face of Sushant, the deepest of peaceful sleep spreading across his pallor.
Where men get ready to fist a loafer’s face blue if he raises so much as an eyelid at the girl on his arm...
What maximum can happen?
Come out...say as you feel...be as you are...

That got boring quick, so I substituted words in her posts to keep me going.

Between the duration when a vibrator would reach from the ground floor to his doorstep through the elevator, he said he would have written an article.

I was having an interesting conversation with a dear friend the other day when a kind of penis appeared quite conspicuously to the fore!

Fuck this shit. As bad as the writing is, there are several dozen "readers" to keep her going, and I think that's a tragedy nearly as big as this blog is.

Suruchi, get on the bus. And here's another for your "followers".



Also, since you like awards, here's one. You know where to stick it. *Your sidebar is an option*

Not Quite D.O.A.

There's a scene in the 1988 movie D.O.A. in which Dennis Quaid's character regains consciousness after a rowdy night and tries to get his bearings. As he looks around at his surroundings, it becomes increasingly clear that he is not in his own home. Nor his own bed. Going from memory here, as I haven't seen that movie on over a decade (Fortunately. I don't actually recommend it unless you have a serious thing for a young Dennis Quaid or a young Meg Ryan.), it seems to me that he looks around and sees pink fluffy bunnies and shit like that. Shit that starts sending his early warning system into overload. And in his case, that warning is warranted. It seems, he is waking up in the bedroom of a young lady. A very young lady. Fortunately not twisted and sick young, but clearly too young for him.

And for some reason, my first impression of today's blog brought that scene to mind. The template is decorated just like a fourteen year old girl's bedroom. It's cute, and watercolor-y/pastel-ly with big loopy looking sans serif text. So imagine my surprise to find out that this is a blog of a male physician/med-student who describes himself as "Vampire doc" who is "67% evil."

Guess what pal. You aren't fooling anyone.

The template also includes an inane "Wibiya" bar at the bottom that provides no advantage to me, the reader, and instead presents a significant disadvantage in that it slows page loads down. A lot. Annoyingly so.

A template isn't everything. I can forgive a lot of bad decisions in the template if the execution is Very Good or better.

Which in this case, it isn't so much.

I had high hopes, based on a quick scan of a few posts. Certainly that vampire/67% evil thing had me intrigued, but then I started reading. And I learned that, while Ramanathan Kannan does have some amusing stories or insights on occasion, he frequently doesn't seem very clear on what is amusing to an outside reader as opposed to someone who was in on the joke.

And like many Saturday Night Live skits, his posts continue much longer than the content warrants. (In this example, I very much wanted to get to the heart of the matter with him, but the frequent detailed tangents derailed me. I still don't know if that was even a good story or not.)

I mean, a list of 49 things that are different from going to school back home and going to school away from home? Forty nine? This would have been significantly better had you chosen ten or fifteen and focused only on the best ones.

Too often I found myself in the middle of a post asking myself how much longer this was going to go on. And, I confess, I almost always skipped to the next, having exhausted my patience with the post at hand.

Don't get me wrong. It's not all bad. There are a few like this that I came across. And there were some that were interesting to me personally that I wished were written better so I could reach the end before getting an embolism.

In the end, I have to conclude that I like this Ramanathan guy, but I really wish his writing would be more focused and concentrated. Not this rambling on and on. I am reminded of a quote I heard once, I think attributable to Churchill. After spending an evening at a dinner party next to a rather loquacious woman, he apparently quipped something to the effect of "She talks a lot, but doesn't say anything."

Ramanathan, my advice to you: Trim the fat and say something.

That said, your potential gets one star. Live up to it, and come back to get more. If you can.

Brown Paper Poo-kages Tied Up in String

At first glance, I was intrigued with today's reviewee, Stranger in A Strange Town. The title was a good start and though the template is your standard blogger one we all probably started with, at least it wasn't jaundiced, replete with brain-bludgeoning bebop or soul stabbing symphonics, flashing bits and bobs, or fauxwards and badges reminiscent of boy scouts.

I start with the profile, hoping as always to get a little back story on my mark. Legacy 2000, who exactly are you? From the staggering amount of info in the profile, I garner Legacy 2000 is an XY involved with two other blogs. Given the spartan nature of his profile, I peruse the other blogs looking for clues but no such luck. A once over of Stranger in A Strange Town tells me that Legacy 2000 last blogged in August and has logged a total of sixteen posts for 2010. With the busy week of lashings Miss Missives has had, I have to say, I salute the brevity. Still, 92 followers on 16 posts? This Legacy must be a veritable savant. It isn't often that a blog has so few posts that I am allowed the pleasure of reviewing it post by post, picking over its meat and marrow with my sharpened nails until only the carcass remains.

Okay, first post, 1991:
It is barely two paragraphs. I love flash fiction but the mere seventy-five words on the page, perhaps intended to convey a certain ennui, are utterly forgettable. The words are gone faster than a Tic-Tac between my molars and far less memorable.

On to post two, Into the Looking Glass:
Again, it is brief. If it is meant to be symbolic, I don't get it. Miss Missives is beginning to think Legacy 2000 needs to be put over her knee.

Post three, This Old House:
Well, this one is quite a bit longer. This post did elicit some feelings but I am confused as to whether he buried someone in the basement or lost a family home in the widespread mortgage crunch. There is the hint of a narrative here but it is somehow, detached from the writing.

Post four, Stranger in a Strange Town:
Ah, the title post. Perhaps there is a profile buried here.

We are all travellers, our destination the same, the journey itself all that matters.

Feh. This strikes me as Fauxlosophical and Legacy 2000's words are beginning to feel like giant swaths of heavy, beige, velvet weighing down my eyelids.

Post Five, Then and Now:
Here is the sum total of what I took from this post, Cheers is no longer Cheers. Where's Norm? Who's Norm?

Post Six, At the End of the Rainbow:
So it would appear that he is recently divorced. It feels like he is trying to talk himself into something, I don't find it compelling.

Post Seven, Death of a Stranger:
All I can say is what the fuck man, what the fuck?

Post Eight, Old Friends
At the very least, I get this but it still feels removed some how.

Post Nine, Song on the Radio:
Is Legacy 2000 smoking pot or under the haze of a plethora of prescribed painkillers? At this point I am entirely unsure of the point of this blog.

Post Ten, For Crying Out Loud:
I am thinking the same thing. Am I done yet? So he went to a strip club and met a girl who needed him for a few minutes. So what. He should be thankful he wasn't talked in to paying for her breast implants. I know it is meant to be poignant and full of regret but Legacy 2000 still fails to tell a story. I know there is a story in there somewhere, beneath all the packing material but it fails to surface.

Post Eleven The Girl with April in Her Eyes:
My own eyes are glazing over and all I can think is this is what people write when they are thinking too hard about how "writers" "write".

Post One-Hundred and Twelve, oops, Post Twelve, just feels like Post One-Hundred and Twelve, Original Sin:
This is the best post yet and offers a glimmer of hope that this guy can actually write. There is narrative, there are impressions and even one very memorable sentence. This is better, much better.

Post Thirteen, Strange Days:
Poems are not my thing but this is at the very least evocative.

Post Fourteen, Old Man:
Ok, so dad drank him self to death and now I get a visual of our author stuck perhaps, safely encasing little tidbits of emotion in thick kraft paper, wrapping it in loops of twine until the small gift inside is entirely obscured.

Post Fifteen, The Prisoner:
Nothing to see here folks, move along. Ok, I am the real prisoner here but I am nearing the end.

Post Sixteen, Lady in Red
Again, a modicum of evocativeness but the mere skeleton of an impression.


I am left feeling like this is a shell of a blog. It's a brown paper package and I know there is something underneath but I don't know what's there and I'm not sure I even care anymore. The brown paper package could be filled with poo, a tween's Halloween prank or it could be a man who is trying to write in earnest but cannot get out of his own way.

From the Miss with the Missives, you get a










because like many before you, you're doin' it wrong

you get one of these for being purposefully enigmatic







but for your brevity, you get a half star.

Ambrosia and its Opposites

When I was a mere dot and home from the School for hols, Nanny used to try and force me to eat rice pudding. Now there are not many things I will not eat. I am a gastronaut of the highest order – William Buckland can’t hold a candle to me (although I will own to never having nibbled the mummified heart of a king, I have eaten a kebab in Cleckheaton). However, I know what I like and I simply cannot bear rice pudding. It’s something to do with the skin. Nanny would cajole and threaten and great Scenes would be caused, but as soon as I saw rice pudding at the table I would clap shut my mouth and fold my arms and that, much to Nanny’s disgust, was that.

When I saw that I had to review a blog entitled ‘Single Mom Says’, written by the fragrant Mindy, my first though was rice pudding. My second thought was ‘Good lord, I had no idea that there were actually real people called Mindy’. My heart sank further when I read her header. It reads ‘A single mom’s thoughts and observations on life as a single parent, dating, relationships, kids & women’s issues’. I can tell you know, Mindy, that they way you mean the term ‘women’s issues’ in no way reflects the lives of any of the women I have ever known. My Fanny’s issues revolve largely around the unclogging of the traps and Mother, when I saw her, was preoccupied with the bejewelling of her vast cast of land crabs.

None of this endeared me to Mindy, and to top it all off, her ridiculous stalker widget thinks I come from Derby! Derby! I haven’t been back to that godforsaken place since the Unpleasantness and do not intend to do so ever again. However, now I am an old clown I must be brave and eat up my rice pudding. As Nanny used to say, if you just try it, you might like it. Poor Nanny. She had to leave us in the end, when all my teeth came in. Anyway, I held my nose and opened my mouth and dug in to our Mindy’s ‘about’ bit, thinking it best to get the skin off first. In this section Mindy provides us with a helpful list of dramatis personae and links to what she considers the pertinent posts. They make for grim reading, my tiny friends. Mindy has fair been through t’mill, as they say around here. Her best friend stole her husband and they are stirring up all kinds of trouble. She is raising four daughters on her own. Neither of the fathers sounds like much cop. She is desperate to find a good man but internet dating is proving unsatisfactory. All in all, poor Mindy has been having a miserable time of it.

I do hate it when reviewees have Sad Stories. It makes me feel as though I should make allowances and then I have to do all kinds of wrestling with myself and I get all flustered and Fanny has to mop up and then she sulks. Besides, sad stories are fun to read for a while, but then the schadenfreude wears thin and it’s just depressing. The problem I have with personal blogs is that they are often far too personal, just a relentless grind of self-obsession. But we must look beyond all this, though, to the real proof of the pudding, the writing. I suppose.

When Mindy started her blog, she wrote long, self-help style essays. They were breezy, relatively well put together pieces that have that ‘Sassy Mom’ tone we have encountered in so many other pink-hued places. Very chummy and reassuring and most helpful, I would imagine, to similar women in similar situations, although they are a touch shiny-eyed, as though she is just enthusiastically regurgitating the last book she read. It’s very much not for me (it’s those around me who need help, not I) but I can see that it has some merits, despite the crashing generalisations and the sneaking suggestion that all men will inevitably turn out to be massive cunts.

However, the recent posts suggest - and I hope this is true – that our Minds has found something better to do than blogging, because they are scanty at best. At times she resorts to the unspeakable crime of just listing things she did, like a child’s back-to-school essay. I did this and then I did this and then and then and then. Look at this, for example;

My weekend was a busy one, marked with a few highs and a few lows. Here’s a peek at some of what’s been going on lately:

I caught a cold. Maybe strep throat. Ow. Throat pain SUCKS.

Got in a minor car accident. No one was hurt but can’t say the same for the cars. Or my insurance premium.

Came to the conclusion that Karma is a slow-ass bitch. Or she’s drinking on the job. Whatever the case, she is obviously VERY confused.

Had date #2 with the single dad from the bowling alley. He needs a name for the blog because he may be mentioned here again. (and it can’t be Bowling Alley Dude or Dad because that would be BAD).

What, pray, is the point of this tripe? Sweet Felicity Kendal, why did you bother? It’s all very well and good if you just want to give your chums a quick update on what you’re up to, but when you submit to this site, you must know we are going to want something more. Your stories aren’t stories, they are merely hints. I know you can do it, you just need to be more consistent in the quality of your output. You could make lovely little pieces out of your dating adventures with a few judicious descriptions, a bit more dialogue and some actual effort, but you seem to have stopped bothering and if you can’t be bothered, Mindy, neither can I.

So, having gagged my way through as much rice pudding as I can handle, all I can say is that I hope Mindy manages to find a way to live, and thereby write, outside her problems. I hope she finds a man (although she would be wise to remember that Buttons is often a better bet than Prince Charming). I also hope that she finds her missing knickers, although I do wonder about the coincidental nature of her fancy frillies going missing just before her daughter goes out to celebrate her sixteenth birthday with her boyfriend. And I hope that she either gives up blogging or decides to do it properly.

Mindy, you get a Meh.

Jidhu What Jighotta Do

PREFACE: Part of me loves posting on Fridays because it's a great way to wrap up a week, but part of me wonders if Friday is a bad day of the week for getting the community involved. I mean, my last review only got 8 comments, and we all know that the only way to determine the value of a blog entry is the number of comments that are on it, right? I just wonder if I am getting an accurate reading on my worth and value as a person?

Thank you for sitting through that with me. Now on to today's review.

Before offering up a review of today’s blog, I wanted to make sure I was clear on what it was that the author thought he was doing, so I asked Shiner to forward to me the content of the review request.

This is what he had to say for himself:

Name of Your Blog: Jidhu's Reflecton
Your Blog's URL: http://www.jidhu.blogspot.com/
A Brief Description of My Blog: Its my reflection

Well, if this is true, than Jidhu must look something like this when he ganders at his own appearance in the mirror each day:



Because I swear, this guy has never met a blog gadget he didn’t like.

I can usually overlook something like that, as long as I can find the links to the archives, but today, I can’t. All those gadgets take forever to load, and they really get in the way. That's one really big demerit right there, son.

Bypassing the template issues for now, then, how well is Jidhu doing with making his blog “his reflection?”

Well, shit.

I don’t know.

I’m just going to come right out and say it. The writing needs a lot of work. Ignoring the mechanics of his English (which needs the most work, but I'm allowing for cultural differences here – “Just expecting something and nothing do for the expectations is a wastage for us.”), the written content is almost completely and totally uninspiring. Which is really sad, because I think he’s shooting for profound and insightful. He seems to be doing a ton of copying and pasting from other sources, or posting things other people have written. But the end product comes across as trite and clumsy.

Let me give you a f’rinstance. He has this topic series in which he shows pictures of Life Lessons on post-it notes. One in particular was “Stop and smell the roses.” After which he provides a full paragraph on what it means to “stop” and another on what it means to “smell the roses.”

Maybe it’s just me, but I didn’t need that explained to me. I've been stopping and smelling the roses for a long time.

Okay – here’s another f’rinstance: He published a post laying out ten things he wishes to learn in the future. As I read it, I couldn’t help but wonder why he set his sights so low. I mean, he had “ironing” and “to wear a tie” on this list. If I made a list like this, I don’t know what I’d put on it, but I am pretty sure that I wouldn’t include things I could learn tomorrow from a “how-to” video or a Tech book.

And what the hell am I supposed to make of this little gem? I mean, I can't even get worked up about Jidhu being all emo and shit, because he never gets to that level of navel gazing.

In fact, the only time that Jidhu’s writing stops coming across as very self conscious and pseudo-profound and fake is when he’s talking about the subject he seems to have the most passion for – computers and technology. Sure the subject matter is not always my cuppa, but out of the blue, the writing sounds and feels free and original and possibly, dare I say it, even a more accurate reflection of the author.

Of all the posts I read, the one about how to revert to a Windows XP installation after upgrading to Windows 7 was my favorite. Really. And I happen to LIKE Windows 7. (When I went to get you a link to it here, I didn’t think I was going to be able to find it again. All of those gadgets and not a single fucking way to do a simple text search?)

Now that I think about it, I can't be 100% sure that Jidhu didn't just crib this from another source.

The non written content – the photos – range from thought provoking and intriguing to “why-the-hell-did-you-post-this?”

Fine. I don’t like it. I won't be coming back. I don't think I know anyone who would like it. I can’t recommend it to anyone. I wonder what the point of it is. So, given that, what can Jidhu do to improve?

• Identify something that you care passionately about. Politics, food, the color orange – I don’t care – and write 500 words on why it is so important to you. Not, why it should be important to someone else. Why it is important to you.
• Find your own voice. Stop trying to be someone else.
• Find clarity of thought first. Then write.
• If you have nothing to say, then say nothing. Don’t write just to boost output.
• For the love of all that is sacred to you in this world, get rid of all of those blog gadgets and get real, son!

Good luck.

Oh, wait. You wanted a rating. Didn't you? I'm finding it hard to invest in you emotionally long enough to do this, but what the hell.

Here you go:

I'll keep your resume on file should something more fitting become available

Dear Ms. Adarkcomedycalledlife,

Thank you for your interest in the position available for New Blogger In My Reader. I am pleased to inform you that we have finally had the chance to consider your application and I do apologize for the delay, but we have been absolutely inundated with applications for this post. Furthermore, as you may know, school funds have been recently cut and, with the teacher layoffs and the cutbacks and all, well, I've fallen a little behind despite all the overtime I'm pulling, knee deep in copyright infringement, xeroxing workbooks 'til the wee hours.

You may be aware that the New Blogger In My Reader position is highly sought after, considering that I am one busy ass motherfucker that doesn't have time to read things that put me to sleep and there are literally millions of applicants to consider. To be quite frank, while you possess many positive skills and traits, I just don't think you're a suitable fit for the position. But in all fairness, I'm willing to keep your resume in the applicant pool for other positions if I can get some clarification on the lingering doubts I have regarding your, uh, material:

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

Come on now, focus. Why the fuck?

Let me pose another question for you to percolate over: Do you find that when you are reading those books you are always tiresomely blogging about that the authors give page after page of mind-numbing lists where the reader is required to piece together the tattered scraps of an almost-narrative because the author is too lazy to do it for them? Do you think you would want to read a book like that? I didn't think so.

Regarding your blog title, how severe do you think my funny bone blue balls were upon realization that your blog does not actually contain one smidgeon of dark humor? You showed up for the interview at least looking like you'd showered, a neat enough sidebar without overwidgetification, and you weren't wearing a pink polka dot suit or anything. I had such hopes that this would go well, but then why did you have to go and open your suck hole?

For the purpose of brevity and to not overwhelm you with too many questions to reflect on, I have one remaining issue that needs clarifying: What in the hell is the point of continuously blogging about blogging? If blogging is really all you think about, why not consider focusing on the actual writing and storytelling aspect so that your blog will grow its own wings and not need you whimpering in the background about the tedium of the activity of blogging itself which no doubt dizzies your readers in a circular cycle of redundant redundancy? Hint: endless meme-type posts where you tag a bunch of people is not storytelling, it's lazy ass blogging. And well, given the workload, I just don't think I can add a lazy blogger to my team at this time.

While you're thinking these things through, I will give you an initial score so you can know how you fared for this particular position and more or less where you stand with our firm. But I hope you do not get discouraged and are willing to consider other positions that may become available in the near future such as Rambling Lady On My Street Corner or Forgettable Person At The Bus Stop.








Otherwise, best of luck with your continued search for a position in people's readers.


Yours sincerely,

MadameB
Director of the Hiring Committee for My Fucking Reader

All the News That's Fit to Ignore

See, I enjoyed Bitterly Books' writing way more than his blog. There is a difference, you know. What's funny, other than Bitterly's wit and deadpan detail, is this blurb he wrote about his blog: Bitterly Books takes caustic, uncomplimentary tours through ill-advised and poorly executed nonfiction. Hey, Bitterly? Put that shit in your "About" section. Feel me? Holla.


Dear The Editor,

Your blog, "Complaints on a Plate," is either the bare minimum of lashing something together for Adsense banner ads, or you need to seriously re-examine some of the life choices you've made. I've got no idea what you're trying to do here.

The "about" page promises "Interviews, reviews, views and musings on people, places, events, times and things." This may be the first in series of cultural misunderstandings between us, but here on the good side of the Atlantic, you don't talk about "musings" unless you're a pre-teen girl on myspace—or possibly a married man pretending to be a pre-teen girl so he can troll for cybersex.

I'm getting a sense that you're taking the "ironic news for laughs" angle, probably because your March 8 post uses the word "ironic" four times in two sentences. Looking elsewhere, I see a telling quote in your July 1 post. "The problem is that the UK churns out media graduates at the rate of thirty thousand a year into a job market that is quite frankly in its death throes". You wouldn't happen to be one of those media graduates, would you? I'm just asking because setting up a site posting fake news articles seems like an unusual choice for, say, a doctor or a car salesman.

So you've set up your own funny blog on your own terms because the news outlets won't pay you and the Onion won't publish you as is. A lone wolf pointing out the foibles and absurdity of news media, free from censorship. Well, are you familiar with that quote about fighting monsters? When you mock the tedious, you run the risk of becoming monstrously tedious yourself.¹ Your entry about George Smedge is so believable that it's boring; I'm not sure what joke you were trying to make. Similarly, I assume that the entry "inspired by Alan Shearer" was mocking sloppy journalism and opinion pieces devoid of fact, but it comes across as sloppy and meandering itself. Both of them take a joke and stretch it too far.

Let's look at the fake excerpt from Targets. You're using more than 1100 words to make three jokes:

• Pick Up Artists (PUAs) have a disturbingly predatory attitude towards women.


• PUAs are supposed to dominate women and control the situation, but the book's author dominates and controls would-be PUAs


• PUAs are pro-abortion²

Look at that. Just as (un)funny, but only 35 words—96% shorter! You're welcome.

Brevity, wit. Coming up with enough short jokes to make something of a decent length is a pain in the ass, but try editing, The Editor. (I had a longer "physician, heal thyself" joke here, BUT I EDITED IT OUT. See how that works?) The Framley Examiner is a great example for making more out of less.

In your Penge O'Clock piece, look at how your jokes ("everyone in this neighborhood studies 'new media'," "reporter gets excited and uses exclamation points when talking about money!" and "all the sources need to mention that they feel safe") get lost in the huge crush of words. Try inserting paragraph breaks to make them stand out more:

I met up with some of the new hip locals to see what exactly it is that makes Penge so amazing.

Annanana Karickiszi is heiress to a Russian oil fortune and studies Media and Godknowswhat at Lewisham College, she is a fan of Sartre and hopes to one day become a poet or fashion editor. She is wealthy! “I love the area.” She says while gazing out the window of her £700 a month bedsit. “There is always somewhere new to go, something new to do. It is cool but not pretentious. There is a community. People are friendly. I feel safe”

Calvin works in New Media, he emigrated from America two years ago. He is financially sound! “There is a lot of history here and it’s quirky, very British.” He owns a small studio above an Icelands. “It’s a friendly area. People say hello. I feel safe.”

James works in New Media and rents a flat in a converted pub. He is solvent! “It’s fun and exciting. There’s lot’s of night life and culture. There are supermarkets but also small independent stores. I love it. People talk to each other. I feel safe”

I also caught up with Gregg, a Railway Station Toilet Professional who has lived in Penge all his life. “Things are definitely changing.” He tells me. “It’s all gastro this and Starbucks that. Just give me a good old cuppa tea” he quips. The old Petrol Station opposite Gregg’s house is now the smoking area for a late night gay club called Fatigué, I ask him what he makes of the many provocatively dressed gentlemen that now reside in the area. “Well, at least they are driving out the nignogs” he quips.

That gives the reader a fighting chance to find it funny. And this time around, I noticed the dig at media graduates! BURN! So, keep your pieces short and break up your paragraphs more. Now let's talk about your screen name, The Editor.

If any competent editor saw Complaints on a Plate, they'd seize your title and leave your broken husk in a dumpster dripping with red ink. Putting aside your callous disregard for comma placement, other missing punctuation, and my assorted style quibbles, there are some major fuck-ups on your watch:

• Writing "cliental" (having to do with a client) for "clientele" (the people who patronize an establishment)


• Writing "physic" (a medicine, or the practice of medicine) for "physique" (the physical structure of a person)


• Writing "manger" (think of baby Jesus) for "manager" (the person in charge)


• Writing "anti-percipient" (percipient means either the ability to perceive or one who perceives) for "antiperspirant" (dumbass)


• Writing "you no nothing about" for "you know nothing about" (ironic, no?)


• Writing "cacogenic" (causing defects in offspring) for "carcinogenic" (cancer-causing)


• Writing "cloistral" (secluded, sheltered, like a cloister) for "cholesterol" (the lipoprotein associated with cardiovascular disease)


• Writing "wacaday" (a television show) for "workaday" (mundane or commonplace)


• And many more!³

These might be intentional problems that you introduced for laughs, in which case congratulations are in order. You have annoyed the only person who will ever give a fuck.

You also need to work on your packaging. Could you have done a worse job with your title graphic? I guess you want to use the cake-holding housewife image as a brand logo or something (it's also on your blogger profile page and your facebook page), but a title graphic should do better than the mangled results of Norman Rockwell's fight with a taffy pulling machine. Even plain text on a colored background would be better.

The best I can say about your layout is that it's simple and uncluttered. But for what you're trying to do here, it may be too simple. You aren't putting your entries in any sort of context, and the jumble of fake news, reviews, and opinion pieces leaves me baffled as to your ultimate purpose.

I give people the benefit of a doubt when it looks like they're trying to be a smartass as long as there's some style to it, but this whole blog feels unfinished. I'd give work like this a solid "meh," but it tries so hard to wrap it all up in a "fake news for comedy" package—and fails so spectactularly at it—that I'm giving "Complaints on a Plate" the short bus.








_{1) This entry being exhibit A.
2)Actually, one of the main justifications of PUA behavior is that your evolutionary imperative drives you to get out there and distribute your seed, so routine hook-ups are just practice. Unwanted pregnancies are proof that you can successfully distribute your genes, and not your problem.
3) Other problems:
"Perpetually transmogrify villages," in that context, should be "perpetually transmogrifying villages"
"Bright young thing" should be plural "things"
For "sciencesque-like" I recognize that you're reaching to make a joke about your study's validity, but either "sciencesque" or "science-like" get the point across without overkill.
"Scientists long-held theory" should have an apostrophe.
"Vote's green," if used to mean "voting for the green party" shouldn't have an apostrophe.
"Everyday" (adjective meaning "mundane") should be "every day" (occurring each day)
"You maybe wondering" should be "you may be wondering"}

Patsy Cline is Waiting to Kick Your Ass in Three Acts

Act I:

Folks, I do believe that it is time to bust out the razor studded cluebat, as today’s lucky contestant is in desperate need of some (ahem) correction.

For starters, Jacki Trew’s delightful little blog is titled "Insanity Now Has a Website" and the URL is JackiIsCrazy.blogspot.com. When you are 15 years old, calling yourself CRAZY or INSANE feels like a logical choice. You feel like you don’t fit in. You feel weird all the time. Maybe you’re moody. Maybe you’re filled with rage. Maybe you are really unpredictable. And yeah, that feels pretty crazy at the time.

But then months pass and soon you realize that this is normal – everyone feels this way – and you are no more crazy than the next very average student treading the halls of your school. And by the time you’re 16 or so, you no longer think it’s cool to call yourself Crazy or Insane.

Insanity Now Has a Website? I don't fucking think so.

You see, Insanity already has had tons of websites: the APA, CharlieManson.com, theflatearthsociety.org, scientology.org, peta.org, etc. What you bring to the table is not insanity. It is impulsiveness. It is occasionally inappropriateness. It is a disregard for some of society's norms. It is an obsession with reality television. But it is not insanity or craziness.

And by the time you are 21, you should know better.

Real crazy and real insane is actually scary and dangerous. Not fun. Real crazy is hanging off the edge of the Golden Gate Bridge or hearing voices that aren’t there telling you to kill John Lennon. And calling yourself crazy when you actually aren't isn't actually cute.

Act II:

Allow me to read aloud from the Hard and Fast Rules section of the Book of AAYSR:

"5. NO AUTOPLAY MUSIC. NEVER, EVER, EVER. UGH."

Jacki – did you read the FAQ before you submitted? Did it occur to you at all that THIS:

just might have been what the fuck we were talking about? I mean, autoplay music is never good, but Kylie Minogue? Really? What fucking decade is this anyway?

So right now, based on what I have seen, you are getting one big fat assed You’re Doing It Wrong from me.

As soon as you have finished reading this sentence, go to your blog and remove the autoplay music. Did you do it? If I go and check right now, will I see autoplay music in your sidebar? I am not above hopping a flight to Sydney and tracking you down and kicking the teeth right out of your head if I have to. Sure, it’ll cost me a fortune and I’ll probably be arrested for assault, but I will have done humanity a favor.

As for the crazy thing – child, please. Be your own person. Stop writing in this extended Facebook status update and start fresh and new in a new blog that doesn’t have crazy or insane in the title or URL. Or in the content, unless you actually go on anti-depressants or something. Mmmkay?

Act III:

Alrighty then. Now that my pet peeves have been dispatched, let’s roll up our sleeves on what we actually do have here.

Jacki has been doing this a long time. And, as I alluded to above, she started this in 2004, when I assume that she was 14 or 15 years old. So, it is reasonable to assume that there would be a lot of shit in the beginning and in the middle that’s all: “So and so is a big poopyhead” and “I hate my school” and all of that teen angst bullshit. And you would be right. Don’t bother with that. Especially since early on, she was doing the whole experimenting with multiple colored text thing. And for a while settled on gray text, which probably would have worked well, if her background color weren’t black. But it is, and so it doesn’t.

At some point along the way she found a voice. Sure, that voice talks way too much about things I don’t give a rat’s ass about – reality TV, actors over whom she is swooning, being a semi-responsible adult, etc. – but it is still an amusing voice at times. A slightly skewed perspective on her life, which is pretty normal and ordinary, and that skewed perspective takes the boring and mundane and makes it somewhat worth reading about.

If only she would drop the immature adolescent references to “crazy”. So, for the autoplay music and the near constant references to crazy and insane:



But because I am not a complete dick, I give you this for making me smile on occasion:

Princess Di You Are Not

There are websites I don't fancy but regard with a degree of politesse because while they fail to be my cup of Earl Grey, may be someone else's Red Zinger or Constant Comfort. Then there are blogs so heinous, so woefully lacking in even the smallest shred of redemption that I cannot refrain from peeling off the well worn suckling pigskin gloves and sharpening my fingernails for a soul satisfying pick through their viscera. If The Power of Only One is a fenestella into the soul of Lisa(who by the way is one of two followers of her own blog), then all I can see is piled high plates of moral superiority, a pretentious lack of awareness and false academic snobitude, all worthy of little more than steaming handfuls of schadenfreude.

I'm going to get right to the point here and skip any red herrings or needless hand wringing, Lisa is going to get a few Flaming Fingers on this one. I will, however, do her a solid and not review her other blog in tandem. Lucky girl you are Lisa, because I don't think you have room for all the fingers I'd be offering.

In the Power of Only One, Lisa sets out to "empower" readers with the "knowledge" and "means" to change "key global issues." I couldn't find any credentials or experience that make Lisa just the person to help us understand the problems of our larger world but hey, everyone can aspire to Angelina Jolie no? Lisa's profile on the reviewed website offers little more then platitudes but one can glean a bit of info off the profile of her personal blog. The Power of Only One itself is a mess with a header stuffed full of tiny, empty words, a dull layout and messy, overcrowded sidebar. Lisa posts beginning January 1 and manages until April. So it would seem this blog was an ill-conceived New Year's Resolution that got boring just about the time Lisa got herself a boyfriend perhaps. Looks like Lisa's commitment to the global community lasted a bit longer than one of Miss Missives overpriced whipping sessions. Professionally pinked-cheeks don't come cheap these days, thanks be to Jezebel that some thing are just recession proof.

This is what it was like reading The Power of Only One:

Now sit down y'all readers of the internet, nope don't put your dirty feet on my purty carpet just listen while I elucidate you on the state of the glo-bal community. Can y'all say trafficking, yes that's it, tra-fick-ing, good, good. Now I am going to define for you prejudice. Look I am linking to a definition of prejudice. I hope you understand now. Look at the sad little pictures of African children. See I am doing my part to be a good citizen of the world by showing you what clearly you must not know since you are totally unawares of things like Da'fur and the Sedan, well and even the search capabilities of the internet for that matter.

Okay, that is not a direct quote from Lisa and yes, I will cop to it's mocking tone but this is what it felt like to read her words.

Here are a few of Lisa's actual words(not my poor, animosity-laced, ambiguously-accented renderings) just so you can really soak it in:

dedicated to helping the ordinary one person become an extraordinary impetus of change. This site will address key global issues such as poverty, hunger, AIDS, human trafficking, and domestic violence. The main goal is to empower individuals with the knowledge of the issues & the means to make change--one person, one step at a time. The united efforts of the many “ones” will create a mighty change. "A waterfall starts but with one drop, and look what becomes of that". (somehow Lisa got confused and thinks it's her job to give us knowledge, which of course, in Lisa's mind means linking to real repositories of knowledge)

I am not a company or a non-profit organization. I am just one. One person. One mom. One teacher. One American. One Texan. One daughter. One sister. One friend. One member of the human race who has challenged herself to save the one...one day, one word, one post at at time with the POWER OF ONLY ONE. (Uh, until April that is)

I would wager that most among you are pondering why I would even link the two together, Kipling and racism. Perhaps you did not know that Kipling penned the White Man's Burden, a poem that extolled the racial superiority of the "White Man(this is what happens when someone audits one literary criticism class and then fancies themself an expert)

I have spent all day trying to come up with a new global issue to address here. (Really. All day huh?)Several different ideas came to mind, but none of them "got the blogging juices going." (Nothing like human despair to get the ole juices flowing.) So I did what I always do. I "googled". Googling Top Ten Global Issues solved the dilemma. There in the search results, I found the answer. Racism. Instantly, I knew which direction to go.(I bet that's exactly how the Dalai Lama comes up with ideas too, lord knows he twitters.

I will spend the next month delving into and exploring the issues of race and racism. We will discover the many ways racism rears its ugly head in cultures across the globe, as well analyzing as the legacy of racism in these various cultures.

To start this journey, I would like share a video produced by The American Anthropological Association (AAA). Use the this video to start thinking about race and racism. (Ok, now Miss is starting to feel like a six year old sitting on the "reading carpet" at the back of this bitches class, does she really address adults this way? )

One of the things I found most distasteful about The Power of Only One, was this undercurrent of unacknowledged white privilege and colonial view of social problems. Lisa also reposts some Langston Hughes poems, oblivious to the irony. Every time I read her I just kept seeing this well-meaning perhaps but completely unaware Scarletty O'hare type, uppity school marm, and Miss Missives knows uppity. I am not saying or even intimating that Lisa is a racist, I don't think she is. I do, however, think that she likes to bath in the juices of her own superiority and is lacking in some badly needed perspective. Let's just recall for a moment that she undertook a do-gooderish blog that lasted about as long as a Britney Spears marriage, and then minutes into it, submitted it to Ask for some kind of hearty back slap or humanitarian award.

This blog feels false, like all the unseemly greening of consumerism that has become so rampant. Companies implore us to save the planet by buying something and Lisa aims to save the world by uninterestingly compiling some random words of others together in an effort to display her vast knowledge of global issues via her rare direct access to Google. The writing is wrought with one part emotional hand wringing and seven parts look at me doing something important and worldly. Never mind Lisa does little more than link to other, more credible sources of global enlightenment. The space is little more than links to sites with original content, some reposted videos and lifted quotes on prejudice, lots of liberal unattributed quote lifting--they say teachers don't cheat. The only thing that could have been more cliche was the Indigo girls set to auto play.

And now for the good news because you know Miss Missives likes to hand out a little candy with her spankings. The good news is, just four months in, Lisa threw up her hands and said to the disenfranchised of the world, this is just too hard.

There are some people who empower others and then there's Lisa.

Your Shit Is Bananas

If you don't fucking fix your fucking template, I'm going to bribe one of those twelve-year olds that sells pot down the street to kickstart your labia with his rusty hockey blades.

I understand you're a "simple girl whose hair is messy," which insinuates you're above such menial worries as physical appearance. Admirable enough, but you don't need to prove it to us by shitting out a template that looks like a crappy toy from a vending machine, with that fuckjumble of widgetry. You want a conglomerate of widgets? Fine. You don't even have that many, you wannabee widget collector. Some people collect ceramic chickens, but at least they commit and organize their compilations like the respectable foaming obsessives they are.

I cannot focus on your entries because of your failed photobucket background image. Your title is a grammatical tragedy that reminds me of Sheryl Crow, and not throaty, folksy Sheryl Crow that can pass for good music but pitchy, strained, eye-gouge-y Sheryl Crow. Thank god you stopped that whole rainbow of font colors thing, because I was two posts away from John Wayne Gacying your ass.

Listen Sameera, I'm glad you're so thankful for everything in your life, because honest appreciation is a rarity. Keep it up. I sincerely hope you don't change that, I hope the cynics of the world feel shame in the face of your sunshine.

But here is what you are missing: reason. You love nature, you love sandals, you love itineraries, you love putting shit into categories, you love conversations, you love loving things. I would demand you prove it, but I believe you. There are so many goddamn enthusiastic exclamation points, you have to mean fucking business.

But I don't give a shit that you love them, because I don't know why. What's so fucking great about nature? Do you tag your memories with seasons? When you smell the chill of the air, do you imagine your dog shoveling his nose in a snowdrift and plowing his way towards you, sneezing and flinging snow in his wake? He smashes his nose into your knees and barks, demanding you join him on the ground. He spins and ducks under himself, falls and rolls and grabs your pantleg with his teeth, dragging you down to his level because he loves the snow; it reminds him of being alive.

That's what I love about nature: it demands a reaction by always existing and changing every single day. If you have nothing to talk about, there's always the weather. Everyone has an opinion about the weather, and everyone has an opinion about whether the weather is a topic worthy of discussion at all. It is brilliant.

So let's hear it. Tell me why. This is a good start, this is better. But do it, please, without so many exclamation points and ellipses and ill-placed commas. Please, please, please pleasepleasepleaseplease, prettyshiny please, sack those fucking exclamation points. Lose them. Ima gonna string your exclamation points into a noose and fucking strangle you with it if you keep that shit up.

As an aside, just a little gripe, but "Serial killers!!!" is a fucking enthusiastically terrifying title for a post. It conjures visions of a messy-haired girl sitting cross-legged in a room with tree frog corpses tacked to the walls named Bill! and Spot! and Mr. Slimey Face! She's meticulously filing the fingerprints off her collection of severed hands, each one fated for painting and stenciling the outlines of turkeys for nefarious handmade blog award widgets. She raises her head and grins. "I love it when my fellow bloggers lend a helping hand!!!!!" she squeals, giggling into her shadow. That girl, by the way, is you.

Until then you start giving me a reason to give a shit, you fall short of, well, everything except being exceedingly creepy sometimes.

Ball and Chain

I get a lot of questions about my profession. Well, I haven't published my email address, so I don't, but shut the hell up and pretend I do. If we had jobs, Raptors would probably be bankers - human suffering is goddamned funny. That, and draining tax payers' blood. But as it happens, we've eschewed commerce in favour of mental peace, and spend our time discussing the merits of chill-filtration (look it up). Somewhere in between honing predatory skills and evolving a brain larger than a peanut, my ancestors spent time locked up in small enclosures called "Cubicles" and wasted their time with inane rituals called "team meetings". Today's reviewee comes from that era in human devolution and writes at "Workforced."

When faced with a reviewing writing on a self proclaimed "Comedy" blog, one that claims to be wildly popular, we're essentially tasked with stroking someone's ego and are expected to hand out 5 stars and a handshake just for showing up. So "Don Joe" (sigh), if you were expecting giddy praise - "nice shoes old chap!" - close the tab now.

Office comedy is a tried and tested formula, to the extent that Scott Adams' silly blog doesn't even go there anymore. Gervais and Carell carried their shows, and are tolerable in bursts. So armed with all this cynicism I set off to explore the workplace.

It's bleedingly obvious the persona behind the blog is someone extremely pissed off with work. Some people change jobs, some others blog. The design is clean and minimal, I'm tired of harping about the side-bars, so whatever. Workforced (oh, you made a funny!) is wrapping up "The Jargon Dictionary". Some of it is funny, but most of the time, it's just forced. I kept waiting for the rimshot as a cue to laugh. Look big guy, lists are funny, but when in moderation. Sure this was "Jargon month", but that's like saying "I'll call this rape month and skull fuck my neighbors all August". If the lists are forced, your pictures are overkill. If I was cynical before, I'm angry now.

Can't say I haven't seen this stuff before, but I'm sure someone will chuckle. Ah never mind, you had to use a bleeding picture.

"I have no problem selling my soul, its just that I thought it would have fetched a higher price."

I liked that a little, and in the context it was in. But most of your posts look like a collection of punchlines. Stop cramming so many "jokes" into 1 post Don, whatever happened to setting up the funnies? Sometimes, I'm not even sure what you're going on about. Halfway through the review I had the feeling I was reading the ramblings of a twat on coke. Sure, you share my hatred for younglings and the attention they generate, but there you go again, squeezing a joke in every line. Hang on, what's this? Jargonization again? In fact language from this post forms the backbone for for other posts. You thought I wouldn't notice?

Look Don, you have some ideas, and plenty of scope to explore them. There's not a lot of "material" that hasn't been explored in your domain (ha! Jargon?), but it's how you present the jokes that count. Here at Ask, stories give us a chubbie (or a moistie), and this is the closest we get from you. I see you have a book on the way, good luck with that.

If you're still around Don, take it easy and mix it up. There's no need to be funny in every fuckin' line. Toy with your readers a bit, set up that damn joke, use deadpan humour more often. But for now, don't quit your day-job. A star for being somewhat funny.

Clown Wars

We’re going to dive straight in this time, my loves. We have a lot to discuss and the air here is curdling. A storm is coming and I must send Fanny out for emergency supplies. We are all out of Ovaltine and the goose fat dwindles. So.

This week’s lucky sausage calls himself the Counter Culture Clown (his name is Bob) and promises us ‘Seltzer Water, Flying Pies, and Social Resentment’. He’s a cheeky stripling from Minneapolis who would dearly like to become a stand-up comedian. His shtick is something called ‘Rant Therapy’, a reasonably self-explanatory pastime that involves what in my neck of the woods we would call ‘going off on one’ about various gripes in an ostensibly hilarious manner. He has a photo of himself sporting beard and cap and wry half-smile. So far, so eminently punchable.

Received wisdom has it that blogs purporting to be humorous seldom are, in much the same way as a man wearing a T-shirt proclaiming himself to be the ‘World’s Greatest Lover’ will be a let-down between the sheets and a ‘Family Fun Night’ will be as much fun as an impacted bowel. The statement of intent inherent in a blog title such as ‘Funny in Shadows’ gets my hackles up straight away. You should never say you are funny, just as you should never say you are pretty. It is tacky.

Normally, when I review a blog, I start at the first post and read backwards until either it ends or Fanny has to fetch the defibrillator. With Bob, I took a different approach and started with what he terms his ‘best of’. I read on and on and I am afraid to say that I did not laugh. This kind of comedy is not for me. It is observational humour of the ‘hey, have you ever noticed that microwave dinners are kind of gross?’ variety, with lots of smutty language and sixth-form iconoclasm and very little in the way of original ideas.

But comedy is subjective, to spank a tired donkey. And Bob has an audience who, although small, are appreciative. And he came in the top 25 in the ‘Funniest People in the Twin Cities’ competition. And he is only twenty-two (just as well – if he were thirty-two, I may well have wept, and my tear ducts have lain dormant for several decades now). He is just practising, picking topics seemingly at random and ‘riffing’ on them, usually at great and trying length. I have no doubt that he will get better and that he will get his own ideas and that my opinion matters not a jot to the tastemakers of Minneapolis. I still found him to be an objectionable little bugger, though.

Now, my usual rule of thumb here is to review the blog that was submitted and ignore all subsidiary works. However, I could not help but notice that Mr Bob keeps another blog, called ‘Disassemble the Universe’, on which he posts his poems and short stories. I couldn’t resist taking a quick squizz. I wish he had submitted that blog instead of the comedy one. Not that I think he is Saki reincarnate or anything, but he can tell a tale. If Bob were here with me now, tucked up on the love seat with a gin-and-Bovril in hand and my Fanny curled about his feet, I might give him some highly presumptuous advice. I might say Bob, why not combine your ranty style of comedy, your scatological surrealism and your talent for story-telling and push things as far as you can to write some truly deranged stories? I believe there is a genre called Bizarro that you might find quite droll. Fiction could be the key to transforming your comedy, injecting it with some much-needed originality. Everyone has already observed your observations. I think it might also be larks to explore the clown motif a little more. A spot of research into sacred and ceremonial clowning might prove particularly fruitful. Your blog hints at something dark, but to me you are as sinister as a bright May morn.

Now the sky sounds like my stomach after a night on the clams and it is time to go. In summation I would suggest that Bob is a far better story-teller than he is a gag-man, and I would dearly love to see him striving for bleeding-edge ideas. I would like to go back to Bob’s blog in a year and find him with a list of publishing credits as long as Fanny’s arm (she does have preternaturally long arms. We always thought the rest of her would catch up, but we were so very wrong) and a reputation for clever as clogs live shows that leave his audience in stitches both metaphorical and not.

Overall, however, I’m afraid it’s a finger.

Not George. Not Dave. Not even Elmer or glue.

Another guest review from Ellie over at the Daily Smoke.

I like to think I’m funny. Not like a comedian funny, but generally jocular in my day-to-day dealings. (Trevor: Please note, instead of ‘day-to-day’ I might have used ‘quotidian’ or ‘diurnal’ or even ‘circadian’, if my thesaurus is to be believed. Sometimes, though, the simplest way of saying something is best.)

I’m living with a dog and working from home these days. Before I chose this life for myself, my Mondays consisted of back-to-back management meetings that frequently overran. I often blurted out a quip or bon mot or wisecrack to lighten up the very important and serious matters that occupied us during our important and serious, overrunning Monday meetings. My sallies were always well received. My colleagues would chuckle or slap their knees; any tension that had resulted from our serious and important discussions would have dissipated. From time to time I would bite my tongue rather than share the wit, because there is a time and a place for everything; and sometimes it’s just not professional to joke in the midst of important and serious dealings. I am, above all, professional.

Maybe in my current isolation, I am losing my sense of humour because I did not find Trevor to be rip-roaring, laugh-out-loud funny.

I make a quick mental inventory of my sense of humour. My assessment reveals that whilst I might not be making as many jokes these days (the dog has no sense of humour), I still enjoy a good gut-busting guffaw or even a mild tee-hee titter. And, I don’t discriminate: whether funny is of a sophomoric caliber or of a more refined palate, I like it. I suppose at this point I should provide examples as proof.

Low brow examples: I love South Park (Has anyone seen the Medicinal Chicken episode?!!!) and American Pie and The Hangover. Oh! And the season of America’s Next Top Model, the one with Jade. She was a hoot!

High brow examples: I get a kick out of Catch-22, and Sheridan’s Mrs. Malaprop from The Rivals and George Bush. That guy is a brilliant comedian.

There we have it: even if I am not myself funny, I do have a sense of humour.

Despite my self-acknowledged sense of humour, I had never visited a self-proclaimed humour blog until I was chosen to review Write in the Kisser. Blogging humourists get a bad rap around these parts. I mulled this over as I mentally limbered up to write this snippet. I asked myself, “Are the folks at AAYSR being fair or are they suffering from having a foreign something up their own asses?”

I negotiated a 2-week deadline and dove into funny with enthusiasm, prepared to prove the naysayers wrong.

Almost immediately after diving in, I scrambled out of the cold, brackish, not-so-funny blog. Over the course of the next ten days, I tried to re-immerse myself. I’d stick my big toe in or my pinky finger, but I couldn’t last in the un-funny. There was always something more fun calling: laundry, filling out expenses, walking the humourless dog, and shaving my legs, to name a few. Reviewing this blog was very much like doing taxes: the dread of the chore hangs over your head for weeks, you tackle the chore in fits and starts, you have to ask for an extension, finally you muster up the energy it will require to do the bare minimum just to get it done and out the door. Trevor drove me to do the bare minimum.

Why didn’t I find Trevor’s blog funny? (BTW Trevor: it’s not a weg, nor will it ever be a weg. Are your repeated references to ‘weg’ your attempt to be funny or have you been misinformed?)

Quick internal aside:

Jesus fucking God when am I going to be done with this review?

Let’s just get this over with already: click on ‘Ranked’ in AAYSR's header and scroll down to ‘anti-humour’ you will find a lot has already been written, which sums up my feelings about Trevor’s blog.

For example,

1. “If you tell me you’re funny, you already suck.”

Trevor: it’s a bit audacious to describe yourself as the love child of George Carlin and Dave Barry; and when you fail to deliver, you just come off as pretentious.

2. “Fucking tries too hard and fails miserably”

Trevor: you have a varied vocabulary. Good for you. The way you use it though makes you sound contrived. Here’s a teensy example of how your choice of words pain me.

"Hmmm," you muse.
...

"Yes," I aver, tiring of the conceit.

Sometimes, authenticity in writing requires you put your dog-eared copy of Roget's back on the shelf. Maybe you should try it.

3. Trevor “with your fantastical nonsense, I sense you are sitting there, buttocks clenched, waiting to be told how wonderful you are. So here goes: You're not really. You could be, but we’ll come back to that.”

Trevor, I don’t think you don’t have a sense of humour. I simply think it’s limited to recognising funny, rather than being funny. You find some outlandish, funny-in-its-wackiness stuff out there. If your blog were just a compendium of links to the stuff you find funny, I might like it more.

You, however, feel compelled to add your own narration. You are not a bad writer. You seem to follow grammatical conventions. You use commas and apostrophes and italicised print in all the right places. It's your tone that doesn't sit well with me. My ears hear immaturity trying real hard to be all grown up. Your use of sarcasm is bland and flat. If you're going to be sarcastic, make it wither shit on the vine. Sarcasm needs to be biting as hell, otherwise, it's just a sign of the sad aloofness of someone trying too hard to be cool.

I suspect that if you shed the whole 'humour' blog persona, you would write more freely, perhaps gain some confidence, and maybe even have something interesting to say.

A couple of quick fixes could be made: put something about you in your About page. As it is now it tells us shit all that we can't figure out from a two minute scan of your blog. And as Rassles wrote to another un-funny "I’m like motherfuckin’ Encyclopedia Brown. Give us an “About Me” page ..."

Finally, consider changing the graphic in your banner. Write in the Kisser is a clever(ish)title, but the way the graphic presents it, it reads Write Kisser In The.

I'm giving you the short bus. I wish it hadn't taken me so long.








* Sincere thanks to Madame Bellicose, Love Bites, Father Gene, and Rassles for paving the un-funny road before me.