Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarghhhhhh
Will somebody please write this @#*%$ *^&$&# ing %&*#*#$ son of a (%^*%$&$ing *$&#&$$@@@ book for me? I will give you money...
Will somebody please write this @#*%$ *^&$&# ing %&*#*#$ son of a (%^*%$&$ing *$&#&$$@@@ book for me? I will give you money...
posted by Winston Smith at
11:37 AM
5 Comments:
Sure!
But I don't think it will be the kind of book your editors are looking for.
See: here for examples of what I am pretty sure your editors Do Not Want.
Hmmm...
Right, MK...that would be a very different kind of book.
Though, I worry, not that much more fantastical than my own...
Well you want any surreal bits, you know where to come.
In fact....
Winston stared at his computer monitor blankly, wondering what on earth he was doing.
"The teaching gig wasn't that hard," he though. "Yeah, some of the students aren't firing on all neurons, but really, you get that in any job."
He went back to staring at his computer.
"Hmm... lemme just check my e-mail. It'll only take a few minutes, and after maybe I'll feel fresh and ready to write."
Four hours later, he closed his browser, thinking, "I never realized that otters had such an active sex life. It's amazing what you can learn on the Internet."
Time passes, and it is the next day.
"I hate this," thought Winston. "What was I thinking?"
For five minutes, he typed furiously, then stopped. "How do you spell dasypygal?" After three and a half hours of browsing, not only did Winston learn that word did not mean what he thought it meant, he also wished he could unlearn the bit about the dasypygal fetishists.
Time passes, and it is the next day.
Having learned his lesson, Winston leaned over and unplugged his computer from the cable modem. He hoped this would keep his distractions to a minimum, and reduce the amount of time he spent trying to invent mind bleach.
Winston typed furiously for thirty minutes, then stretched out his arms and leaned back. At which point his computer chair gave out on him, dumping him unceremoniously on the floor.
Staring at the dog who was making a noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter, Winston stalked from the room to go find some aspirin.
And so time passes, and it is a month later.
Winston has learned the meanings of several new words, including hentai and yaoi. He's also gotten into several battles at Wikipedia over Freud's ability to learn the manual method for curing female hysteria.
His chair is now held together with duct tape and some suspicious looking twine, and the dog is banned from the computer room completely.
As he turned on his computer, a whirring noise is suddenly followed by a loud POP and black smoke as the monitor goes completely blank.
Winston reaches into his desk drawer, pulls out a .38 and shoots the monitor.
The next day, Winston sits down at his desk, a new wooden chair with a single red cushion sits in front of the desk, and on the table, all electronics have been removed, and replaced with a cup of pencils, several legal pads, several reams of white paper, and an ancient black typewriter.
Within three days his book is 70% completed, he and the dog are back on speaking terms, his patent for mind bleach was accepted at the US patent office, making him disgustingly, filthy rich.
The End
LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL
Not only is there truth in this, but also a prescription for change...
I should have taken your advice early on and banned myself from ever opening my browser...
Thanks, MK
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