Tag: satire

Don’t become your own expendable character; utilize writer survivor skills

image I think we can all agree it’s Friday! For those who can’t agree, you are welcome to think it’s Thursday. But don’t come crying to the rest of us when you show up to an empty office tomorrow dressed in jeans and a casual dress shirt. For the rest of you, today is also the day I dispense my Nickel’s Worth on Writing: a weekly feature on writing that has been recognized by the prestigious trade magazine Publishers Weekly as “…a weekly post…each and every week…”

But you didn’t come here to read gushing accolades!

Over the years, my wife has gotten used to my (admittedly bad) habit of leaning over and whispering “expendable character” whenever I see someone who I know is going to die. I should clarify I only make these predictions while watching movies, and not, as a general rule, at the grocery store, in hospital waiting rooms or at family reunions. That’s because in movies, these types of characters are easy to spot. Continue reading Don’t become your own expendable character; utilize writer survivor skills

If calling customer service doesn’t help, try the suicide hotline

image Sometime between yesterday afternoon and this morning, my computer slipped from its normal “sleep mode” and into a deep coma. This became apparent after hitting the space bar and getting no reaction whatsoever, not counting a low-pitched whirring sound that — if I didn’t know better — I could swear was snoring.

Realizing there might be a serious problem, I gathered all of my computer troubleshooting experience and, over the course of the next 10 minutes, applied that experience by hitting the space bar no less than 400 times. When that didn’t work, I unplugged the computer and plugged it back in. Tried a different outlet. Switched keyboards. Wiggled my mouse. Considered finding a different occupation, preferably one involving explosives.

I eventually realized the only thing left to do was call the “Help Line” listed in the service manual and hope someone there could either a) talk me through this or b) talk me down should our conversation move to the rooftop. Continue reading If calling customer service doesn’t help, try the suicide hotline

Today proves The Box is part of a higher power (or someone was high)

I'm not sure if "Skippy" bites. Actually, I'm not even sure if he's a squirrel. Or a "he."
I’m not sure if “Skippy” bites. Actually, I’m not even sure if he’s a squirrel. Or a “he.”
That scream you just heard, depending on you proximity to our newsroom, can only mean one thing! Ok, possibly two, but I haven’t written in the nude for at least a month. That means today’s scream was the result of releasing a wild, blindfolded squirrel into the newsroom.

Why?

Because it’s time once again to randomly choose a photo from our collection of decades-old unclaimed and unidentified photos in The Box here at Siuslaw News.

Before I reveal this week’s photo, I must admit I was shocked that an image of its importance and religious significance had been sitting in The Box for the last 20 to 30 years. I called The Vatican and was told a special team of trained investigators would be dispatched to verify the authenticity of this photo, just as soon as they were done disproving claims that Sean “Puffy” Combs is a deity. “Given that he is the only one to make these claims, it shouldn’t take long,” said the Vatican representative I spoke with. Continue reading Today proves The Box is part of a higher power (or someone was high)

Rule number one to coaching kids: Never, ever forget the jelly donuts

(I’m sure a lot of you have been wondering, “Where is today’s Flashback Sunday? It’s always posted at 6:30 a.m.!” Ok, fine; only one of you was. Regardless, like many Americans do this time of year, I completely forgot about the time change and, as a result, didn’t remember to set my clock back by … uh… 12 hours. I know we’re actually suppose to gain an hour, but seeing as how every clock in our house has a different time, I’m sure you can understand how this could have happened. My apologies to everyone. To avoid making this mistake again in the spring, I will be posting my March 9 Flashback Sunday in an hour…)

Going downtown for a hail Mary pass into the bucket.
As I’ve mentioned before, I’m not very athletic. I made this realization in the third grade, when I was knocked unconscious 32 times playing dodge ball. After that first game, I remember waking up in the nurse’s office and being told of a special program for “gifted” athletes who were so special they got to wear a football helmet during recess.

Of course, I eventually figured out there was no “special program,” and openly expressed my feelings of betrayal when I slammed my helmet on the desk of my high school counselor.

After which I was taken to the hospital with a broken finger.

I live with the memory of being an unathletic child on a daily basis. Particularly when I look in the mirror and see a man whose head still fits into a third-grade football helmet. For this reason, when my daughter asked me to coach her fourth-grade basketball team, I smiled, took her hand, and began faking a seizure. I panicked at the thought of providing guidance to a team of fourth-grade girls, any one of whom could “take me to the hole.” Continue reading Rule number one to coaching kids: Never, ever forget the jelly donuts

Regular writing can shape your literary thighs

Bike typewriter copy Friday means it’s time for Ned’s Nickel’s Worth On Writing, a weekly post on writing that Writer’s Digest has called “Valued customer.” and “…Long Overdue on payment.”

After last week’s NWOW, which was an interview I gave at R.G. Dole, a lot of you asked about the answer I gave to the final question:

Is it true you are a consultant for E. L. James?

Because I am under contract, I couldn’t answer that question, which brought us to the final, final question and the one people actually asked about:

What advice would you give to a writer who is just starting out?

In my answer, I said establishing a writing routine is crucial, and gave a brief explanation on why it was so important and how to make it happen. Many of you asked me to elaborate on this.

No one asked about my consulting for 50 Shades.

As it turns out, the third post I ever wrote for my weekly NWOW was about the benefits of creating a writing routine, and how those who don’t should be spanked… Continue reading Regular writing can shape your literary thighs

… This Just In …

image

…TAT-tat-tat-TAT-TAT-tat-tat-TAT…

[Breaking News: from another strangely irrelevant moment in our newsroom…]

Ok, in what is quite possibly the most irrelevant moment in our newsroom so far this year — which is saying a lot — I thought I would share Halloween photos of some folks who work here at Siuslaw News.

Oddly, I took these photos in September… Continue reading … This Just In …

Nose whistling is the heart and soul of any relationship

imageIt’s one of life’s little mysteries, the fact that I can fall asleep in front of the television during a documentary chronicling man’s loudest explosions, yet be kept awake by the sound of my own nose whistling. In my defense, this was a new phenomenon, and something that, under any other circumstances, would have been amusing. However, at 1:30 in the morning, having your nose emit a solid C-major every time you exhale is just plain annoying.

What made matters worse was that I wasn’t alone in my musical endeavors. My wife was also blowing her horn — I’m guessing in E-flat — which, between the two of us, sounded like a pair of jug blowers trying to tune up for the spring dance. Instinctively, I grabbed the earplugs from the nightstand and inserted them. As I quickly discovered, this is a little like covering your ears so you can’t hear yourself sing. I then contemplated the idea of inserting the plugs directly into my nostrils, but decided against it for two reasons.

First, I would be forced to breath through my mouth, which would lead to snoring and bruised ribs.

Secondly, should my mouth somehow fall shut during the night, the resulting pressure would create a pair of high-velocity projectiles ricocheting through our bedroom without warning — the mere thought of which would keep me awake. Continue reading Nose whistling is the heart and soul of any relationship

Excuse me, but I really need to get… The Door

The Door... sentinel of journalistic history and protector of olfactory senses prior to flushing.
The Door… sentinel of journalistic history and protector of olfactory senses prior to flushing.
Do NOT adjust your screen! There is nothing wrong with your computer! Unless, like mine, you’ve actually seen it in a 1980s movie, where it represented the era’s most advanced computer technology as part of a high-tech military defense system that becomes self aware. But assuming you’re looking at a screen smaller than an industrial sized microwave oven, then yes — you really are seeing an image of The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance) in our newsroom.

As I mentioned when I closed The Door a few weeks ago, it would be re-opened as the situation warranted. And today, my friends, we have a SITUATION.

For those of you just joining us, or those unfamiliar with The Door for personal reasons, I should explain that it is the most important door in our two-door newsroom. Not just because it leads to the commode, but also because it displays the best and worst examples of print journalism clipped and taped there by reporters at Siuslaw News since the 1970s. We like to think of The Door as the Smithsonian of journalistic history, except with the occasional sound of flushing. As iconic anchorman Dan Rather recently said, “It is unquestionably our most important relic representing modern journalistic history — or my name isn’t, uh… Barbara Walters?” Continue reading Excuse me, but I really need to get… The Door

Today’s Halloween costume is tomorrow’s therapy session

(Welcome to this week’s Flashback-Flashback-Flashback Sunday! No, that wasn’t an echo, or the remnants of a hangover. You read it right; this week’s post is an extremely rare flashback within a flashback within a flashback. OK, just to clarify, that wasn’t an echo either. It’s just that this week’s post covers three generations of Halloween costume traumas. In short: a Halloween flashback Tri Fecta..! Tri Fecta…! Tri Fecta..!
Ok, that time really WAS an echo…)

They may not look traumatized now, but I’m saving up for my children’s therapy sessions anyway — just in case.
It was a conversation that I had been putting off for as long as possible, even though I knew it was my responsibility as a parent to sit down and have “The Talk” with my daughter.

It’s better that it come from me rather than her getting crazy ideas from someone at school, I told myself.

So I sat my daughter down, held my breath for a moment, then and asked:

“What do you want to be for Halloween?”

For some of you, this is an exciting time that allows you to bond with your child by making their Halloween-costume dream come true.

For the rest of us, it’s a time when we cross our fingers and pray that our child’s “Halloween costume dream” is hanging on a rack somewhere at Wal-Mart. Because if it isn’t, we’ll have to make something, and therefore put our child’s emotional health at risk by creating a costume that could potentially scar them for life. Continue reading Today’s Halloween costume is tomorrow’s therapy session

… This Just In …

image

…TAT-tat-tat-TAT-TAT-tat-tat-TAT…

[Breaking News: from another strangely irrelevant moment in our newsroom…]

Each week, our entire editorial staff — all four of us — gathers for a meeting to discuss what we’ll be reporting on, any upcoming news-worthy events, and individual assignments. After 15 years, my editor has learned to stop asking why I attend these meetings. Case in point: Today’s editorial meeting… Continue reading … This Just In …