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I was born in Hannibal, Missouri, and after spending a year as a Mississippi River
Pilot, I headed for the wild west to seek my fortune panning for gold, and eventually
wrote a breakthrough short story called The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras
County.
Okay, that was obviously theft, being, of course, a one-sentence bio of that other great humorist, Samuel Clemens. We do have a lot in common, though. For example, he was also born in America east of the Mississippi (I think Hannibal is on the east side), married, and envied by his peers. I am the first one to draw the astonishing similarities between us, but perhaps this is to be expected, since we share a keen perceptive sense of human nature. Let's review what Sam did not have going for him: o Sammy was not born in Dorrance Township in NE PA "anthracite coal country" in 1953, o his father was not a carpenter who built most of the house he lived in (note the striking similarity to President Abe Lincoln), o Mr. Nineteenth-century Funny-guy didn't graduate from Penn State with high honors (and I only did because the administration had already printed the graduation programs and awards by the time they found out I'd gotten a D in thermodynamics the last semester), o although Mr. "Twain" traveled Europe and the Middle East, he did not live three years in Germany where he would have been forced to learn a pidgin form of their language that causes them to wince visibly, o Mr. Twain may have traveled Europe and the Middle East, but he did not spend a month sailing with his wife through the windward islands of the Caribbean, where, on Martinique they discovered that the French really don't use deodorant, and on Saint Lucia they hired a teenage boy as guide in the national park who had to borrow a communal pair of shoes, which are required for entrance. o whereas Herr Clemens had to compete with the likes of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Charles Dickens, Stephen Crane, and Herman Melville, he did not have to elbow his way into a crowd of Romance novelists, Star Trek series authors, and writers of enough self-help books to convince an outside observer that the entire population of America had spent their childhoods chained in dark basements where they befriended rats for pets. o and, finally, Mark-baby never ran a six-minute mile (I don't know this for a fact, but I suspect we would have heard about it if he had). |
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"If it's printed in a newpaper, it must be true." SDBAA announces book award winnersWell, that was rather sordid. The old hubris really sat up tooted away on the dented horn. My apologies, but it really is a heady time. For the record, it might have been that only two of the three judges voted mine best (they don't reveal that sort of information). Here's me with the TROPHY! A trophy for winning! The BEST young adult book published in 2006!  Sorry ... sorry. Sheesh. Martha Barnette, Co-host of KPBS radio's A Way with Words was supposed to be this year's awards event host, but she was sick. Personally, I think she was sick at heart that they picked another book over A God for the Earth for best Science Fiction novel. The mission of San Diego Book Awards Association is "to promote the advancement of literacy and to provide incentive and recognition to local authors by honoring and acknowledging excellence in the San Diego County writing community." In case you missed it, that was "excellence." Founder Chet Cunningham has written over two hundred books (rivaling Isaac Asimov himself for prolificacy), while President Bradley Steffens has authored or co-authored over twenty young adult books. These gentlemen should know quality writing when they see it. Past award winners include such august names as Kathi Diamant, Daniel Reveles, and New York Times Best Selling Author Susan Vreeland. You should dontate money to them so that they will be able to bestow future writing awards to me. A Salty Dog Impressive, eh? Hello everybody out there in the internet. You don't know me but I had to speak a truth about Mr. Readler. He never looks at his own website so I don't think he'll see this. Mr. Readler is not a bad fellow but he exaggerates things. For example he tells everybody that he can run one mile in less than six minutes. Every Monday when he goes jogging he says he does this six-minute mile thing to keep himself in good shape. Well, ha ha. Guess what? I took a peek at his watch this last time and then took a picture so you would believe me. Six minutes? I don't think so Mr. Readler. Like I said. Mr. Readler is not a bad guy. He just lies sometimes.  Ha! So, Ms. "You Don't Know Me Out There In Internet Land," you think that I never look at my own website, huh? Well, think again, snoopy-woman! You're paid to clean my office, not trash the global IP network with half-baked English. Did they teach you about commas in school? You used exactly ONE. You don't have to pay extra for them in a posting, you know. But, getting back to the subject at hand, I wasn't feeling well that day, okay? Man, a guy works hard to challenge himself and stay fit, and how does the world respond? Does it cheer him on with words of encouragement? No, no. Belittlement and criticism are his rewards, that's what. Sour grapes. Do you know what that means, snoopy-woman? You're jealous, that's what. I see you try to hide your roly-poly butt under loose blouses. Perhaps YOU should try running a six-minute mile before blasting those who can. And, to prove it, here's my latest time. As the difference clearly shows, the "evidence" for your vicious attack was an anomaly.  A Major Award from the City of San Diego Library AssociationHere's me accepting the Major Award. You can see the Local Author Major Medal humbly hanging from around my neck. As you can imagine, the tension of anticipation prior to the final announcements was tortuous, and the evidence is a relieved face contorted in a bizarre mask of ecstatic emotion -- the "thrill of victory", so to speak.  Oh, and by the way, for the record, every author who sent in copies of their books got the award. Monica suggested that this was important information. Whatever. |