schplog

It wasn’t until 1897 that the ongoing discontent in the insect kingdom developed into the political crisis which very nearly escalated into war. However, as it turned out, insects haven’t really time or energy for war, and after a skirmish or two and several meetings under white flags, it was agreed under the Misery Compromise that it would be better for all concerned to simply split into two kingdoms.

The gnats, led by Nathaniel “Ha Ha the Laugher” Thorn, seceded and formed their own kingdom. Naturally when we say gnat we mean, as you would, any of various small insects in the order Diptera and specifically within the suborder Nematocera.

However, problems instantly surfaced. The gnats, much like the other insects, depended greatly on the mining work they had done since the beginning of the Industrial Revolution, and now they had no access to the mines which were all located in normal-insect (as they were now called) territory. Things were in a pretty messy state.

The male gnats assembled together in a large swarm and wondered what to tell the king, who was famously addicted to the fine black powder. “My goodness”, said the head of the Mating Squad. “Who will bring the Gnat King Coal?”

I must respond to the simply delightful comment by Nicholas Fayrewether III to my last post Marry Marry Quite Contrary. He wrote:

This brings to mind the misadventures of Irish footballer Andrew Myler.

At a recent game, Andrew swiftly drove the ball towards the goal, moving well ahead of his teammates. With no one to back him up, the ball was quickly taken from him. Since that game I have often lain awake in bed, wondering over and over again: Why didn’t Myler tarry more?

What a remarkable remark. And while we are exchanging nostalgic celebrity reminscences, Mr. Fayrewether’s touching story elicited the following:

You might say that writer Norman Mailer has been and continues to be extraorinarily — perhaps even ridiculously — prolific. And busy. He may be described not so much a writer as someone who did stuff with words. Novels, journalism, screenwriting, playwrighting, film direction, creative nonfiction, essay, etc. He even blogs and is not above TV cameos either. For heaven’s sake, he was awarded the National Book Award and twice won the Pulitzer.

Where does he find the time?! It’s almost impossible to keep track of all the things he says and does. Twenty-six books? More? And then the essays and the articles and the blog posts. And when he’s not creating he’s procreating. Mailer has been married six (!) times, and has nine (!) children by his various wives, only one of whom he stabbed with a penknife.

My god, the man is 84 years old. You really have to ask yourself, why doesn’t Mailer tire more?

Actually, President Tyler was married twice; first to the lovely Letitia Christian Tyler with whom he had eight children, and then to Julia Gardiner Tyler, with whom he had seven children.

Talk about being fruitful and multiplying — fifteen children — and sixteen if you count John Dunjee who claimed to be John Tyler’s illegitimate son from one of his female slaves. Scandal! All these children with only two wives (and possibly a slave).

You have to ask yourself: why didn’t Tyler Marry More?

A little known piece of presidential trivia:

Julia Gardiner was originally betrothed to William Henry Harrison, but she left him for the VP. Turns out she wanted to marry Tyler more!

The disciple asked the Buddha: “Tell me, what is your favorite movie?”

The Buddha answered, “Groundhog Day“.

The disciple thought for a minute in silence and then asked hesitantly, “Because of Andie MacDowell?”

The Buddha answered, “Because it is an off-beat karmady”.

The disciple asked: “Is that like a screwball karmedy?”

The Buddha answered: “Absolutely not”.

My friends Jim and Nate are huge Drew Barrymore fans. Either one would do just about anything for her, including carry her over puddles, hold her shopping bags, stand in front of her so she could balance a novel on a sturdy shoulder, and so on. They would offer themselves up in a second to be her collectible collapsible ashtray if they only could.

Jim would hoist her bike on his shoulder and help her move houses. Nate dreams of being her personal assistant, just so he could lug around her books and scripts and hold her pen and offer it to her whenever she needed to sign something.

Jim imagines what it would be like to lift huge logs for her, gather her firewood, and hold onto the beams of a collapsing ceiling so that she could escape. Nate is more inclined to bring her clipboard and purse along to meetings and maybe bring in a tray of lattes.

It sounds crazy but one day they heard through a friend that Drew Barrymore was actually looking for a personal assistant. And get this — not one, but two personal assistants! Jim and Nate were jumping for joy although they were a little put out by all of her specifications. It seemed she was looking for people with theater background (not a mime) or at least someone who could do impressions and wouldn’t mind heavy lifting.

Both Nate and Jim are decent mimics, but Nate still realized that he wasn’t going to get the job.

Nate conceded. “Jim is just so much stronger than I am, even in his fantasies. It’s kind of ridiculous, but when it all comes down to it, I think he’s the one for the job. I mean, all that lifting. It would probably be too hard for me. Even if I get the job too, the best thing to do would just be to let JIM CARREY MORE!

p.s. if this post isn’t funny, please read the original one

boy I love lucy

shining inner light aglow

said Tom lucidly

It recently came to light that actress Audrey Tautou has an impersonator. The fake Audrey copies everything from the real Audrey’s hairstyle to her penchant for ballet clothes.

After Tautou threatened to sue, the other filed a cross-suit claiming that Tautou stole her look and popularized it. Due to the nasty accusations thrown around in the case a French court ordered that the two cease all verbal and written communication until after the trial.

Yet the two cannot refrain from their arguments which they now carry out cleverly by rebus and wordishness. A Schplog reporter who infiltrated their non-verbal communications reports a conversation that went something like this:

(insistent) C, I M 2-2.
(mocking) I M 2-2 2.
(incredulous) I M 2-2, C? 2-2! I M 2-2 N A 2-2 2!
(doubtful) U R A D-V-S 2-2, I F A 2-2 2!

What will happen? Stay tuned to the Schplog to find out.

When I was a young lad I loved to draw with coloured pencils. I would draw just about anything — still life displays of vases and fruit, fierce battle scenes of knights and dragons, sci-fi monsters and aliens, celebrity pictures from magazines, my own collection of coloured pencils, you name it.

My sister also took up coloring although she only liked to draw her guinea pig who was sleepy enough to stay still long enough to model for her pictures and easy-going enough to not mind being called Barry.

Not one to be bested I took to drawing portraits of the guinea pig too. It turned into something of a competition, just as a joke at first but pretty soon the two of us were turning out guinea pig sketches from dawn til dusk. First dozens and then hundreds of guinea pig portraits filled our house.

In order to settle our quarrels over who was the most prolific of the two of us, our mother suggested that we count them. It took us the better part of the weekend but when all was said and done it turned out that I DREW BARRY MORE!