How to Make $1 Million - Books

Here's hopefully the first in a long series where I give you fantastic ideas that make you money, and then you give me some of that money because I came up with it and am just too lazy to follow through on any of them.


It occurred to me today that you can write a profitable genre-mystery by appending the word "Murder" to any pre-existing book title. No? Anything. Either it's descriptive of the event or just sounds awesome on its face:

• "The Iliad Murder"

• "The Jewish Mother Cookbook Murder"

• What to Expect When You're Expecting … Murder"

Write a long, winding tale of tragedy and political assassination; a funny yet self-effacing death at a high-society kitchen; a story of a pregnant mother/former double agent trying to uncover the whereabouts of her captured baby-daddy/ex-partner/traitorous enemy.

Then make the royalty checks payable to Dave.

Elmo Probably Didn't Mollest That Kid

"I am eating your child. Pray I don't eat him any further."

Listen, we've all know the jokes about Elmo's puppeteer being a large black man named Kevin. At least those of us that knew Elmo's puppeteer was a large black man. But right now there are more pressing concerns.

Kevin Clash–and more importantly Elmo–is taking a leave of absence from Sesame Street to better fight (with the support of producers) the allegation that he had a sexual relationship with a 16 year old boy.

That's serious for Kevin, and unless they reveal the accuser is attempting to extort money after failing to successfully accuse Michael Jackson's corpse, Elmo may go the way of the Snuffleupagus. However, in the face of all that we as a society are going to have to wade through in the coming months, I am imploring everyone from men on the street to politically themed fake news hosts to avoid making "Tickle-Me Elmo" jokes.

It's just low rent humor at this point.

• Make a joke about the Count teaching Elmo how to count to 18.

• Make some tasteless reference to all the toddlers on the show skewing Kevin's perspective of age.

• Steal my Snuffleupagus joke, it's cool. (No, seriously though, I want credit for that even though Snuffie's back in action after his long absence.)

Just please don't make the same stupid joke for the eight umpteenth time.

I was just on television

Now that it's aired I can say it: I was on cable T.V.

I'm still not honestly sure I can say what or why, because of that whole "in perpetuity throughout the universe" clause that always creeps me out, but I think I can post the official video when it goes live, so long as it was non-monetary.

In commemoration of this momentous day, I'm slacking off and going to sleep instead of writing a real blog entry. Because screw you, what have you done today?

Fucking Dutch

There's not a single thing in this image that isn't a stereotype.
Just like any picture of the Wu-Tang Clan.

So my friend recently had a less than perfect sexual encounter with a citizen of The Netherlands, and this was the result:

• Close the boarders, and institute a double-bag customs check for all foreigners from now on.

• The little Dutch boy who stuck his finger in the dyke? Yeah, he's not welcome at that bar anymore.

• Knocking wooden boots.

• If you go Dutch, you both pay for it.

• "He came in my Holland now I'm regretting it."

• Keep the Netherlands out of your nether lands.

•  You should have given him one of their rudders instead.

•  Never bang a Dutchman. Bang a Dutchman, be careful of the Finnish.

• Vermeer painted a portrait of you and he called it "Girl With A Pearl Necklace."

•  I'm gonna have to van Gogh to the pharmacy.

Oh, and he was a drummer so this also happened:

•  You'd think he'd be better at using his stick.

•  Yeah, I'd hit that skin. 

• For someone who's supposed to keep time, he sure finished early.

•  I SHOULD HAVE NEVER TRUSTED THE RHYTHM METHOD.

On Turning 26

Considering all the tech in my room, I guess I never really outgrew my nightlight, huh?


Router, tv, cable box, BluRay, Roku box … yup, no monsters getting in here.

On Slim Jims

I'm told by a commercial that if I am suddenly lousy at video games, eating Slim Jims will make me better. Theoretically, if I ate perhaps 400 Slim Jims I would become maybe passable. I could survive. My family has a high tolerance for decidedly deadly sodium, blood pressure, and cholesterol levels. My doctor might have a stroke, but I should be fine long enough to learn how to work dual thumbsticks without nauseating myself.

Don't get me wrong, though, I still greatly miss those commercials where an anthropomorphic meat stick man single handedly tears up my insides like the riot scene in any college movie made before 1987. That was massively appetizing.

But now there's a message I can get behind:

Slime Jims: "Our product isn't good enough on its merits, but we'll give you superpowers for that other thing you like to do more."

Hallowsmas

This guy is awesome. I have no idea who he is, but he got this right and 'real' cartoonists suck.

The Halloween table at work has been replaced by a Christmas display. Thanksgiving was never even given a chance. In all honesty, if it hadn't snowed violently all afternoon and evening yesterday, I'd have felt more conflicted about this. Alright, I was significantly upset by this until the snow, at which point I was enraged in the opposite direction. I said 'fuck it' and put on my holiday playlist.


But I find once the idea was in my head, I could not banish it: everything about Thanksgiving could easily be folded into either Halloween or Christmas without much fuss or complaint.

Celebration of Autumn? Halloween. Leaves? Same. Cornucopia? Jack-o-lantern. Huge meal and giving thanks with loved ones? Jesus Day. Christians in funny shoes? Nativity play. Parade? Please, everyone just watches that for Santa Claus. Football? Either, really.

It's all there. Just make sure you eat a turkey and everything really works out just fine. Hell, if you're Italian you could probably get away with a stock family Sunday dinner.