Chapter 2 - Oops Iraqalypse!

IT’S BIG WORD TIME!
The big word for this hour is:
picaresque
A literary term which refers to novels that portray the nether side of life, as opposed to the Romance, which tends to portray an idealized view of life. Named after “picaro”, the Spanish word for “rogue”.


Het eind, eens op een tijd, was enkel het begin.

* * *

Oops Iraqalypse!

Bush will burn your passport...
...and kill your business.

The World Likes Americans, but dislikes Bush.
If we re-elect Bush, the world will dislike Americans too.
Want to go overseas?
Want to do business overseas?

If your answer is YES...

Vote for John Kerry.
Show the World that we care what they think.

You do not have to burn your passport.
You can travel and do business overseas.

It's easier if you are welcome there.
Bush has sadly made us unwelcome.
And to rehire him would spell universal unwelcome.

Think outside the box.
Travel outside the box.

Vote John Kerry in November.
Give yourself a passport to the world.

We can repair the damage.
It's as simple as a vote.

Vote wisely.
Indeed, vote worldly.
Vote Kerry/Edwards in November.
The future is our friend.
And Peace is better than War.

We can create Heaven on Earth.
Is this not God’s work?

* * *

God, what an idiot!
OK. So here’s the plan. Since this is a blognovel, write the bulk of it on blogs… my own, as well as in the form of comments, like I have already done heretofore. See Matt Gross. This way, once can see just how blogs facilitate writing, and so on…

Even Shakespeare is no Shakespeare. How could he be?

One of my favorite humorous bloggers in Madeleine Kane. Madeleine is a derivative of Magdalene, if you didn’t know, just as Austin is a contraction of Augustine. Madeleine further contracts her name to be Mad Kane, and Mad Kane writes the songs that make the whole world…double over. Occasionally I will try my hand at a MadKanesque variation on a theme, if you will…

Here goes one!


GETTING BADDER or Bushworld Theme
(to the tune of "Getting Better" - Beatles)

It’s getting badder all the time...
I used to get mad at my stool.
The people who bought me weren't cool.
Propping me down, burning me crown,
Feeling me up with your tools...

I’ve got to admit it’s getting badder,
It’s a little badder all the time.
I have to admit it’s getting badder,
It’s getting badder, since you’re Ben Klein...

Me used to be angry young man
Me hiding me head in the sand
You gave me a turd
From sheep I can herd
I’m doing the least that I can...

I admit it’s getting badder,
It’s a little badder all the time,
Yes I admit it’s getting badder,
It’s getting badder, since you’re Ben Klein.

I used to be cool to my woman,
I bleated and cut her a fart on the
Things that she loved
Man I was wrong but I’m changing my thong
And I’m doing the least that I can...

I admit it’s getting badder,
A little badder all the time.
Yes I admit it’s getting badder,
It’s getting badder, since you're Ben Klein.
Getting so much badder all the time...



The Life and Opinions of Anonymoses Hyperlincoln, Narrator

Once upon a time, in Yorkshire, England, there lived a man whose name was Sterne. Laurence Sterne. And he crafted wondrous tales that still delight readers the world over. James Joyce considered him a literary mentor, and Schopenhauer considered him the best novelist of his day, if not for all time. In his book, The Art of Literature”, Mister Schopenhauer makes the case that Sterne’s “The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman” was great and unique in that it treated of inner, over outer, worlds.
The entire book was digression.
Now I am not saying that The Life and Opinions of Anonymoses Hyperlincoln, Idler will reach to such heights, nor am I sure whether it will be inner or outer worlds that will become the lion’s share of what the book beholds. Events right now are just too volatile, unpredictable. But knowing me, and my joy in entertaining new and exciting inner states, there will be ample opportunity for me to delve into more louche pleasures.
For example, there is a really good chance that a few of the players will get together and, well, delve into more louche pleasures. Harriet Hoover, in particular, seems ripe for plucking. But will it be Surreal McCoy, Jude Wren, or John Dark who take her there? And will she even act on these jaded urges that come, in waves, over her? Time will tell. But something tells me November is sure to see action in one arena or another. Who know? Maybe the world will end, and all louche pleasure bets will be off. Maybe Kerry will win, and the world will break out in celebration…thus giving rise to all manner of pleasures.
Too early to tell.


The Players get Restless
Lord knows I have tried to keep this story from unfolding, but frankly, the players are restless, and are begging me to splay them out before you. And even though I realize it may not be in my best interest, I also know that their contract demands that they each are seen as well as heard. One player, a deafmute, is, of course, exempt from the latter half of these conditions.