BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

In order for this to make sense, I really have to start with a couple of definitions…

Rhetorical Question: a question asked solely to produce an effect or to make an assertion and not to elicit a reply.

Pedantic: overly concerned with minute details or formalisms

Remember those. They might not make sense right away, but they should if you just keep reading… In theory, anyway…

So, here’s the thing – many years ago I read a Sci-Fi novel… yes, actually I have read many Sci-Fi novels, but this one in particular has something to do with my inane rambling today… Unfortunately, I don’t recall the title of this  book, but I do remember the gist of the story. Basically, due to the constant expansion of the universe and the fact that we are simply traveling through it, our solar system emerged from some manner of interstellar radiation cloud that was acting as a damper on our brains. In short, it was making us stupid. So, as Earth moved out of the cloud, people with sub-par IQ’s became what our current definition of “normal” seems to be, those with “normal” IQ’s became geniuses, and those who were already geniuses made a sudden leap to a level that made Einstein and Marilyn Vos Savant look like toddlers.

Well, apparently this wasn’t Sci-Fi after all, as it seems we have started to move out of the “Stupid Zone”. Unfortunately, it also seems my head is still  hanging out in the clouds, so to speak.

Allow me to wax poetic as to why I think this…

Lately, it seems as if a good number of folks have become absolute, raving geniuses, whereas I have remained utterly stupid. I say this because they are pointing it out to me constantly. And, at the same time they turned into these super geniuses, they were also infected with the “pedantic virus” and are now suffering from debilitating cases of pedanticoritis. (Yes, I just made that up…)

Now, I am sure you are wondering just what the evidence may be that has led me to this bizarre conclusion?

Simple. The humble rhetorical question.

I ask them. I ask them all the time. I tweet them, I use them as status updates on BookFace and Myspank. What’s more, I ask really off-the-wall rhetorical questions. Things like, “why don’t grapefruit taste like grapes?” or “did you ever notice hot dogs don’t actually contain any dog?” – Things so outrageous as to not even beg an answer. The only way to make the joke any more obvious would be to put flashing lights around it with a giant arrow and sign that reads, “EAT AT JOkES.” (Hopefully everyone got that…)

So what is my point here? Again, simple. People are answering me.

Now, if folks were answering me with equally as silly answers it would be one thing, but instead they are answering me with serious, in-depth, incredibly ostentatious explanations. What’s worse, more than a few of them have adopted “What, are you stupid or something?” attitudes to go along with them.

I suppose if I was up on stage at a comedy club, then maybe folks would get “it”. But in all honesty I’m not so sure they would…

Which brings me to this…  Even though it would seem that my head is still floating around in the “Stupid Cloud” while everyone else has moved on to the land of “Brainiac”, I figure it’s only fair for me to point out something that may have been missed.

I’m nowhere near as stupid as I look.

Yeah. I know. Hard to believe isn’t it? I mean, after all, I look like a big, goofy moron. But in reality the opposite is true. I actually have some highly developed skills, which may be considered archaic by some, but still serve me well. Things like the ability to operate a Dictionary… Encyclopedias… Reference books… (don’t tell anyone, but I actually know where several branches of the public library are located.) And, when I’m really feeling lazy, I look up things on the Internet, cross reference the sources, and voila… And, if that’s not enough, I really and truly can count to ten without using my fingers. Amazing, I know, but I really can. Just ask E K. She’s literally witnessed this incredible feat.

And, just in case you might not have noticed, I tend to joke a lot… And by a lot I mean A LOT…

So, the next time you happen across my FB page, a random tweet, or even run into me at a bookstore and I say something like, “You know, I wonder if pine cones are just baby pineapples?” you’d probably be better off to not offer an explanation as to why they aren’t.

Why? Because I will just point and make fun of you. Believe it or not, there’s a very good chance that I’ll be better at it than you are…

More to come…

Murv

…is just a cigar.

Several years ago there was this great little sitcom called “Stark Raving Mad,” which starred Tony Shaloub (Wings, Monk) and Neil Patrick Harris (Doogie Howser, Dr. Horrible, How I Met Your Mother.)

The short lived series centered on best-selling (fictional) horror author, Ian Stark. I could go on and on about it, because I absolutely loved the show. Unfortunately, it lasted only one season, and oddly enough was canceled somewhere around one month prior to my own first novel, Harm None: A Rowan Gant Investigation, showing up in bookstores.

But, I’m not here to rant about stupid TV execs… Even though I’m known to do that from time to time. Firefly anyone? Drive anyone? But, I digress…

Nope, not here to rant on TV guys.  I’m here to talk about something else (as usual). However, we know how my brain works and it just so happens a particular episode of “Stark Raving Mad” popped into my head as an illustration of my point…

Episode 17 – THE GRADE: Quick synopsis – A regular character who is a friend of Ian’s, and who works at the bar on the ground floor below his apartment is going to night classes at the local college. She is working extra hours and in her lit class she needs to write an analysis of a book – as it happens, the book she has selected is one of Ian’s. Hilarity ensues, of course… However, the reason it ensues is that she is so busy she manages to talk Ian into writing the book report for her. Her professor, played by John Lithgow (another of my faves) gives her a B. Ian simply can’t stand it, since he wrote the report about a book he had written in the first place.  Upon Ian confronting the prof,  it is explained to him how “Maddie” (Ian’s friend) had completely missed the underlying meaning of the knife used in a murder. Ian tells the professor, “Sometimes a knife is just a knife.” What makes it funnier, however, is that even after the prof discovers that he is talking to Ian Stark himself, the author of the book as well as the paper, he continues to disagree (and if I recall correctly, even drops “Maddie” down to a C.)

And that, my friends, is “what I’m talkin’ about”…

Sometimes a knife is just a knife, a cigar just a cigar, and a redhead just a redhead – although I would prefer you not tell E K (or Felicity for that matter) that I made that last comment.

My point is, I write novels. And believe me, I dearly love the fact that there are people out there who become emotionally invested in the stories. I think we’ve already established in a previous blog entry that I do as well.

However (You saw that coming, correct?) based on some of the “fan mail” I receive I feel compelled to point out a few things…

They are stories. Works of fiction. Not instructional manuals for your Wiccan coven.

Just because you live on a street that has the same name as a street in one of my novels, that doesn’t mean I am writing about you. Really. Seriously. We’ve never even met, so how could I possibly be writing about you… Wait. Don’t answer that. I’m relatively certain I don’t want to know the convoluted logic…

Just because you have red hair it doesn’t mean you are Felicity.

You are not… I repeat NOT… the “reincarnation” of Rowan Gant. (Honestly, I don’t even begin to understand that one. He’s fictional, but even if we discount that fact, he’s not even dead.)

I could go on and on, but I think you get the point. Sometimes a cigar is just that… A cigar.

And a novel, no matter how entertaining, is still a novel…

More to come…

Murv