Drop Back and Pun

I’ve been thinking about titles lately. No, not like the Earl of Sandwich or Sir Loin of Beef. I was listening to a friend’s new R & B album and was wondering how they come up with titles for instrumentals. I imagine folks must get pretty proprietary about their titles. After all the work and creative genius that goes into a great jazz song, would it have been as great if Duke Ellington had called it “Take the #47 Bus?”

Novel writers must agonize over titles. I’ve never written anything longer than a couple of pages, but the idea of choosing a word or a phrase to optimize your 150,000 word magnum opus seems really intimidating to me. Sometimes they really hit the mark-”Grapes of Wrath,” sometimes not so much-”Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” and sometimes it just doesn’t matter-”Peer Gynt.” Songwriters and short story writers have to come up with a title every week or month or so as the create new pieces, but they often have the benefit of simply lifting a line out of their song or story.

But us bloggers, man…now there’s some pressure. I have to come up with 5-7 titles per week that are vaguely informative and occasionally entertaining. So what is the last bastion of the overburdened author? That’s right, the pun. Paronomasia has the potential to attract derision like no other literary device, yet I can’t avoid it. Drawing from a proud literary history ranging from Shakespeare to Ogden Nash, the ability to turn a homonym into a synonym is harder than most people think.

Samuel Johnson called the pun “the lowest form of humour.”

I got your Samuel Johnson, right here.

Oscar Wilde would be so proud.

Not Even a Good Effort

I don’t know who this German dude, Max is, but the sumbitch sure is tall.

She may get better mileage, but I’ve got more trunk space.

You Can’t Make This Stuff Up

I’m pretty sure that texting while driving a cooler with an open container has to be against the law.

Tap, tap, tap…Is this thing on?

Because I needed some place to post my entry that won the “Formal Champion” category of the Hot Tomato Haiku Contest at the East Nashville Tomato Art Festival, I figured I’d pull the old Dry Spot out of mothballs so I could show the color and the structure. It wouldn’t make much sense otherwise.

For

Orbs

Which

D a n g l e

C  a  r  m  i  n  e,

R  u  b  i  c  u  n  d,

C  r  i  m  s  o  n

D  i  n  e r  s

T h a n k

G a i a

I’ll go back in my cave now.

CeeElCee’s Productivity Tips-First in a Series of None

I realized that I have inadvertently done a brilliant thing to improve my productivity here in the office.

(“You mean like not blogging in two weeks?”)

No! Screw you, inner monologue.  He can get so self-righteous sometimes.

I have allowed boxes of printed samples and calendars to fill all the chairs and every flat surface in my glorified cubicle.  (I have a door and a window, but it just leads into another cubicle.)  Thanks to the lack of horizontal space, nobody can sit down in my office but me.  Conversations about nothing have been reduced by almost 100% and my quiet work time has increased accordingly.  Of course, SEC football does start next week…

Final Free Yard Sale Update

It’s not too late to move my crap from my basement to your basement!

Go here for details.

The Latest from the Grand Experiment

You know you want it!

It’s some of my better sell copy. I really should be in marketing. Oh wait, I am…

You Know You Want It!

If you live in Nashville or are willing to drive here in a Uhaul sometime in the next week, it would behoove you to go here.

As you were.  Carry on.

Book Me a Spot on Larry King Live for Next Week

I just got the strangest fortune cookie at Khan’s Mongolian BBQ.

I’ve always said that if I were a homicide detective in Cabot Cove, Maine I would follow Angela Lansbury’s ass around 24/7 and just wait for the cases to fall into your lap.

So, Newscoma, you might want to come shadow me for awhile. I’m just sayin’…

Blogging is Sorta Like Sex…

If you go without doing it for too long, you start to get uptight about not doing it and worrying about whether it’ll be good enough when you actually do do it again and whether anyone will ever want you to do it again so you finally decide to just get off your ass and do it again and when you do it’s usually pretty sloppy and over too quickly.

Bru-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-ce!

In yet another example of egosurfing, apparently Bruce Jenner has found a reference to himself on NewsComa’s blog and left a short comment. The only celebrities to grace the comment section here at thedryspot.net have been George Goldtrap and the children of Bob Lobertini. We’re certainly not talking A-listers here.

Being the suspicious mind that I am, (I’m caught in a trap. I can’t walk out.) I clicked through the link on Bruce’s comment to verify his identity at his website. That’s where I came across this:

Holy crap, Bruce! Botox much? Which part of that word doesn’t scare you? BOtulism or TOXin?

The Artist Formerly Known as Big Brother

Well, it finally happened. I got my first “Cease and desist” request regarding my internet content. Yeah, I’m banned in China and apparently thedryspot.net is rated PG-13, but I never thought I would piss off his Royal Badness, Prince.

The YouTube video that I posted from our New Years Eve in Vegas has been taken down. Apparently, The Purple One has been on a rampage to protect the copyrights of all usage of his music and image in the intertubez. He’s taken it to the point where he’s gone after a short video of an 18 month old baby dancing while “Let’s Go Crazy” plays in the background. Scheming little pirate baby!

But the video I shot wasn’t of Prince. It was of Morris Day. And it actually wasn’t even Morris day. It was a Morris Day impersonator! And he wasn’t even singing any lyrics. He was dancing!

This whole thing brings to mind another little clip I found on YouTube.

Help I’m Being Repressed!

Crappy Birthday to You!

If you’re gonna mess up my desk by putting sprinkles on top of your cupcakes, they should at least taste like something. Paper confetti icing. Feh.

And don’t get me started about those people that put mylar confetti balloons and palm trees and 40’s and dollar signs in the envelope with their party invitations to shower your cubicle when you rip it open. Unless you’re coming behind with a Dyson to clean that crap up, don’t even bother!

/curmudgeonish rant

They’re Funny Little Bastards

My online Bank of America tries to automatically categorize my credit card expenses for year-end reporting purposes.  I used my Visa to buy tickets to the Kids in the Hall show at the Ryman in May.

They showed up on my statement as “Child/Dependent Expenses.”  Heh, I never knew I had five cross-dressing comedian sons.

I love my little cabbage-head, chicken-lady, head-crushing Lopez boys.  29 out of 30 Helens agree.

Like the Swallows to Capistrano

After a long winter’s nap, my trusty Murray lawnmower started right up on the first pull of the starter rope.

Damn, there goes that excuse.

Well, That Didn’t Last Long

It only took one car trip to Sewanee for my brand spankin’ new Camry Hybrid to go from “that new car smell” to “that gassy, wet dog with a side order of Arby’s curly fries smell.”

It was nice while it lasted.

T for Texas. T for Hil-La-Reeeee.

Like Punxsutawney Phil seeing his shadow, I’m afraid we’re in for six more weeks of this crap.

I think I’ll follow the lead of our fuzzy little groundhog buddy and crawl back into my warm, dark den until it’s over.

Wake me when they get to Denver.

Preventable Anguish

I know some people are allergic to the egg medium that flu vaccines come in, but not getting a $20 flu shot because you heard from somebody that it doesn’t cover every strain of influenza is like not wearing your seatbelt because you’re worried that it won’t protect you if you drive off a bridge and get stuck in 500 feet of water.  It’s worth the risk.

I don’t wish the agony of the flu on anyone, but the rest of us that have to cover for you when you’re out sick would like you to please go to Walgreen’s next year.

A Few Questions to All the Panicky Peoples Out There in Blogland

Think back if you can to the last day of March 2007.

• Was your throat tight?
• Did you feel as if the world was collapsing in on you?
• Were you worried that the global economy was going to wash away your home like some financial tsunami?
• Did you feel like you needed a bailout and that everyone else in America earning less than $75K per year probably needed one too?
• Did you actively make plans to abandon your 401K at work and bury your money in mason jars in the back yard?

The Dow Jones Industrials closed 25 points higher today than it did on March 30, 2007. Quit freaking out and get back to work. Go out and buy something made in America. But don’t pay for it out of your home equity.

It’s that simple.