Wordsmoker

It’s been a morose week, my friends. We started with an execution and while recovering from that, we plunged right into the topics of sociopathic murders, sexual assaults, draconian anti-abortion laws, deceased toddlers, gym rudeness and celebrity deaths. Given the dark nature of this week’s smorgasbord, I couldn’t blame any of you if just went into a gloomy emo shell and wrote death poetry in the comments. You all could have just written, “why bother” every time a new post was listed, just because you were so focused on the subject matter and not the actual content of the articles.

But that wouldn’t be you. You’re better than that. You’re Wordsmokers. You take an absolutely horrific, painful subject, dress it, cook it in a preheated oven set to 350 degrees on bake for thirty minutes, season it, prepare a nice garnish, pair it with a bottle of wine, serve it on antique china from the left, clear the dishes from the right, serve a rich, appropriately portioned dessert with coffee or a digestif, clear the dessert dishes, wash them, dry them, put them away in cupboards and see your guests out. Thank you very much for your comment meal. I may cut and paste this paragraph for Micro-Fiction Roundup. Here is the fruit of your labors.

Smokies:

NefariousNewt/Loving The Like Button:

“So, Virus, Zuckergberg got to you, didn’t he? Cracked you like an over-ripened walnut, eh?!?!?!? What did he promise you? Money? Immortality? The power to enslave women with the sound of your voice? Sorry… you already had that. You’ve made the Faustian bargain my friend, and someday, in the midst of a moment of fapping glory, he will come to collect. The air will fill with the stench of brimstone, smoke will shroud his form, and then he will step out of the cloud and make you his bitch. Don’t say you weren’t warned.”

(We know that Virus would sell his soul for a rather inexpensive strumpet. If Zuckerberg gave him anything more than that, he was gypped.)

MilitantRubberDucky/US Group Attempts To Sterilize Scottish Drug Addicts:

“Wow; this is disgusting and outrageous. Definitely would’ve brained her with my purse (I keep a brick in there for just such occasions).”

(This may actually be true, I ran into MRD at the local grocer on Thursday night. She was one-arming a 50 lb sack of dog food. Don’t get me wrong. She is very feminine. Just strong as fuck. I had to rest my wedge of cheese on a shelf a few times before making to check out. True story.)

SarahHeartBurn/US Group Attempts To Sterilize Scottish Drug Addicts:

“Sterilize? That’s going a little far. Couldn’t they just do a mom face-wash with a little spit and a Kleenex?”

(Some people are never satisfied, no matter how clean you are.)

BookishLookish/The Smokies: When Animals Attack Edition:

“Turkeys are dumb. That is why we eat them up. That is why he rammed your car. Next time shoot the li’l fucker from the passenger-side window and let his gamey ass serve as a warning. Only wild turkey worth a damn comes in a bottle.”

(When hunting for wild turkey remember to bring the proper provisions. Ice and depending on individual taste, seltzer or ginger ale.)

RosaLuxembourgeoise/This Might Sound Retarded, But We Need A New Word For “Retards”:

“This isn’t new in post-modernist circles where I’ve overheard many a whopper such as “peripheral simulacra,” “he’s not the sharpest discourse in the text,” “she’s like a thesis short of a dialectic,” and the particularly loathesome “flippered Weberian.” But disciplined Marxists prefer expressions like “marginal product,” “a bit underdetermined, eh?” or things like “praxtard,” and “18 Brumtard,” “lumpenpoopybutt scab,” “degenerate shithead ruling class pigfucker,” “Soixante-retard sellout m’fucker,” “Schumpetard,” “touched by a somewhat visible hand,” and “special.””

(My IQ is raised by a point every time I read a Rosa comment. I think I’m up to 50. Not really sure where I started.)

Mediahohoho/This Might Sound Retarded, But We Need A New Word For “Retards”:

“Cognitively Unequipped Neo-conservative Teabagger Sympathizers. Or NAMBLA.”

(It doesn’t have to be an accurate acronym if it’s funny.)

Poisonville/The Other Side: Charlton Heston:

“I mean look at him–he’s got his pen out and you know he’s thinking “F*** Kennedy, I’ll sign the goddamn Civil Rights Act myself.” (Heston actually used asterisks in place of profanity in his thoughts.)”

(Thank you, Poisonville, for helping to preserve our memory of Charlton Heston’s purity.)

BC/Smoke And Mirrors – The Life Of Little Trumpet:

“Little Trumpet spent his parent’s tuition money for four straight years taking informal courses in Klingon and building a shrine to the Teletubbies, except that he replaced their faces with Dick Cheney masks.”

(If you had submitted an edited photo of Teletubbies with Cheney faces, I would have had to invent a new award for you. With that in mind, only getting a Smokie for this kind of sucks.)

IrishBreakfast/Smoke And Mirrors – The Life Of Little Trumpet:

“Little Trumpet collected hubcaps. He spent most of the day stallking the objects of his desire, plotting how they could be his and only his. Most nights were spent with a crowbar, prying open garages, popping off hubcaps. He lived for that noise; ’screeeeeeePOP.” He’d think about that noise later, when he was alone and knew they weren’t watching. He kept them shiny.”

(After reading this, I actually popped the hubcaps off of my car and brought them inside for the night. Chilling.)

BeRightBack/Smoke And Mirrors – The Life Of Little Trumpet:

“Little Trumpet gets teeth-clenchingly, knuckle-crackingly angry whenever someone mentions Andy Gibb of the BeeGees.”

(Don’t we all. What was that thing with his voice? Some kind of falsetto or something?)

BJonston/Smoke And Mirrors – The Life Of Little Trumpet:

“Little Trumpet spent the summers of his youth visiting his wealthy cousins in South Africa, riding around in armored cars because his uncle was a prosperous shoemaker who needed an army of bodyguards to protect himself and his family from kidnappers at all times. On one of these trips to South Africa, right around the time Little Trumpet turned seventeen, he snuck out of the house one night and got high as monkey on quaaludes with some of the kids down the street. They also smoked ganja out of a broken coke bottle and drank cold beers until they passed out. He was wiped out for three days and when he finally came to, he was in a dusty beauty parlor on the side of the road in Soweto with nothing but his underwear and a pair of flip flops. That little caper did not go over well with his shoemaker uncle who immediately put him on the first flight back to Chicago. That was the last time Little Trumpet ever went to South Africa.”

(I felt like I was there. How do you know all of this about Little Trumpet, BJ? I think the rest of us just made it up.)

Blix/Smoke And Mirrors – The Life Of Little Trumpet:

“When Little Trumpet stares into the abyss it blinks, apologizes and tidies up on its way out. That being said, candy-colored clowns scare the holy shit out of him. How weird is that?”

(It’s weird because coulrophobia is so rare in abyss wranglers.)

Blix/Smoke And Mirrors – The Life Of Little Trumpet:

“Little Trumpet was an altar boy. Studied hard and did everything. Marriages, funerals and baptisms. No shennighans either even though LT was cute, The good ones don’t get any press. He felt he had the calling until the age of 12 or so when something newly hairy said from beneath the desk, “Chastity!? Surely you jest”.”

(This is one of those “bring you back to reality” posts. An alter boy who was not a victim of shenanigans, even though he was cute? Not in our lifetime, Blix.)

Sargasm/Ohfuckingklahoma!:

“Another lovely story from Oklahoma. We made reservations at some hick motel next to a nice lake. I called to cancel, and the owner sounded so devastated that I said I couldn’t go because I had a bladder infection. As we concluded our call, Mr. Okie said “I hope your bladder feels better.””

(I need closure on this. Is your bladder better or is it not?)

Lord ViruswIthshoes and Lady Bookishlookish/5 Second Movie Review – The Wolfman:

BL: “What’s that quote? What most women see in you drunk, I see in you sober?”

VWS: “Is that line from Fred Thompson’s biography?”

(Can’t we just remember the Fred Thompson who commanded an aircraft carrier during the Cold War?)

MamaPenguino & Heneage/Wordsmoker Anthropology – Movies You’ve Literally Walked Out On:

MP: “Some high school-based T&A film that had dwarves and stuff. I don’t even remember the name.”

H: “Willow?”

(You see what I’m doing here? By including people who are usually exempt from the Smokies in one-two punch type comments, I’m able to award MamaP and Virus. That’s called cleverness.)

And, yes, UncivillyObedient and LipstickLibrarian, you get Smokies for pressing the point and getting Virus to make a new Wordsmoker Anthropology.

Baroness/Happy Anniversary To Me: My Rape, 30 Years Later:

“Fuck all that. Thank you for your saying it out loud. You gallant, strong, smart lady.”

(I selected this for two reasons. One, because I thought that it was a fair representation of the awesome respect and support for MamaPenguino that I felt from the commenters as I read through the thread. Two, because I love everything that Baroness writes.)

LatterdayLenin/Oklahoma Abortion Questions – Section B:

“iPads and KFC don’t mix. The grease gets everywhere.”

(That’s why Wordsmoker is the final authority on tech and dining. There is not one mention of this little interaction problem on Apple.com or KFC.com.)

BeRightBack/Caption This – Wookie Vote Special Results:

“It was a shock, at first, when he realized that the old wives’ tale about masturbation and hairy palms was actually true. But he could only resist for so long, and soon, he began to derive a sort of perverse pleasure as he realized that the hair was spreading, first to his wrists, and then up his arms, down his back, across his chest.”

(Sorry about the oversight, BRB. Here’s your Smokie, up with the rest of the stars.)

LatterdayLenin/Jesus Wants Your Rape-Shame:

“Bitterness? Bitterness?! When my local 7/11 runs out of my brand of cigarettes YET AGAIN, I feel “bitterness”. When someone rapes your innocent child body and gets you pregnant and EVERY. SINGLE. RESPONSIBLE. ADULT. YOU. KNOW. is so motherfucking insane and uninterested in your wellbeing that they feel the best course of action for you is to APOLOGIZE for being a SLUT, I don’t think “bitterness” quite captures what you might feel at that point.”

(The whole comment was brilliant. I just included this excerpt here for space considerations. Somehow this whole thing got turned into a game of chance, into which I allowed myself to plunge.)

Blix/20 Things About Me – Latterday Lenin:

“Ha! I forgot about FNFF. Almost makes me want to give the little feller a sealed pack of bacon to sniff.”

(I had now idea what Blix was talking about with the pack of bacon, but as a rule, pork products are funny.)

BellTolls/The Other Side: The Lindbergh Baby:

“Too soon.”

(This makes no sense without context. Want context? Hit the link. Kidding. Lenin was cracking wise about the Lindbergh baby who was kidnapped and murdered in 1932.)

IrishBreakfast/Official Wordsmoker Business: Micro-Fiction Reminder:

“A lament for the brains I once held so close:

Where did all the brains go
Ones I held so long ago
Where did all the brains go
I miss them so
Where did all the brains go
Went to med schools don’tcha know
How are cops gonna learn
How will they ever, ever learn?

Oh, bloody hell: that lovely ode to brains was supposed to be over on the 20 Things About LL post. 1 thing about me: no brain today.”

(I liked the correction almost as much as I enjoyed the poem.)

Pokies:

BookishLookish/My Dull Life: Sweat Induced Rage:

“There is always at least three inches of dense material between me and the gym equipment. It is called my ass.”

(Three inches, Bookish? Being modest?)

IrishBreakfast/You Can’t Keep Book Fight Club Down:

“Oh, no. Not Nicholson Baker. Please! If I take my clothes off, drink a lot and sit in the corner will I still be called on?”

(Are you at all familiar with the people on this site, or was this just a rhetorical question?)

BookishLookish/Wordsmoker Anthropology – Movies You’ve Literally Walked Out On:

“Summer, 1988, The Big Blue. Movie was mediocre, as most movies are, but I walked out because my boyfriend at the time refused to put his hand under my skirt. Prissy little tease.”

(Clearly, he was not into your kind of dense material. Most of us are.)

The Mechanical Larynx:

There was a lot of excellent video footage posted this week. Should it really still be called “footage” in the digital age? However, two pieces distinguished themselves for very different reasons. The first requires a bit of explanation as it is in a foreign language. Probably Spanish.

SenorWences/US Group Attempts To Sterilize Scottish Drug Addicts:

“This Bolivian film was banned both in Bolivia and the United States. It tells a quasi-historical narrative of a Peace Corps medial clinic that was sterilizing, without their knowledge or consent, Quechua Indian women who had come in for treatment. While the film is a dramatization, it is based on actual events which occurred in Bolivia in 1968 when the government imposed, with the help of the United States, a population control program. Jorge Sanjines, through interviews and fictional footage, straightforwardly tells the Indians’ story while creating a sophisticated commentary on the place of Indian culture in Bolivia. In 1970, Peace Corps were forced out of Bolivia due to rising anti-U.S. sentiment fueled by the film’s release. Blood of the Condor was a vanguard of the Latin American cinema revolution and remains a central text in the history of anti-imperialist thought.” ~ Brian Whitener, All Movie Guide

The second was a part of the Dennis Hopper tribute. While we remember Hopper for Apocalypse Now and Easy Rider, he had a fairly prolific television career in the 50′s and 60′s. This was a great example of his early television work:

(Please note that I selected this as a tribute only to Dennis Hopper and not Hitler. Although the actor who played Hitler may have been very nice, I just don’t know if he is dead or alive.)

Iron Lung:

ReneSance and I were called a “bunch of hippies” by Virus for our decision to award two Iron Lungs this week. We never make a final decision about the Iron Lung until the end of the week, because you never know what will get posted on a Saturday afternoon that will alter the whole Jenga stack. However, one morning earlier this week, I read a story that haunted me throughout the day. The reason for this is that I have actually been on cases of missing persons where we had no reason to suspect foul play, but the disappearance seemed unlikely without it. So, this story seemed eerily real to me. I had it earmarked it as a possible contender for the Iron Lung. If you haven’t read it yet and you aren’t squeamish, follow the link and check out:

BillyShears/The Little Things:

“It’s not the same, you know. Throwing bodies in a river. Having to weigh them down first. Cutting their fingers off is pretty gruesome, something I hate doing. Smashing their teeth with a hammer – I have to admit – is kinda satisfying, but it’s an action born out of worry. Every swing and crunch is filled with panic, and I never liked panicking. My mom told me a lot that I was a cool customer, even when I was just a boy. She liked that about me. No – panicking doesn’t sit right with me. So, that’s why I prefer small towns.”

(Billy Shears has only written two pieces and rarely comments. Step up, Shears. Your public demands it.)

Our other Iron Lung selection is the result of several demands to break protocol and award the rudis to someone who has otherwise removed herself from the competition to serve the greater good. I am pleased to award this Iron Lung to my Smokies partner:

MamaPenguino/Happy Anniversary To Me: My Rape, 30 Years Later:

“I wish they had said fight like it’s the last day of your life!  Never, ever surrender your body to anyone because it will take you almost three decades to get it back and some of you will never get it back.  Go down fighting; make it as difficult as possible for him.  After my rape, I told myself that I would never be raped again because I would make him kill me before I let him shove his penis inside of me.”

(My words here are not going to really add anything to this piece. I’m very proud of you, MamaP and it was a pleasure to give you this Iron Lung.)

I certainly hope that MamaPenguino is not expecting to rest on her laurels this week. She is up for the Smokies in seven days.