Author: kenwheaton

Ookla the Mok Will Defeat Justin Bieber

Posted on by kenwheaton in Ookla the Mok

I am sick and tired of Justin Bieber getting all the fame and buzz on the Twitter box. I think it’s high time for a new flavor of the month. So I am launching a campaign for Ookla the Mok. Who is Ookla the Mok, you ask? No, not the band that created the first monkey rock opera, but rather the best friend of Thundarr the Barbarian and former slave of the wizard Sabian until freed by Princess Ariel. Not only can he rip apart a car with his bare hands, he’s great with a longbow. Can Justin Bieber do that? No. Can Justin Bieber ride an equort? No. In fact, the only thing Bieber has on Ookla the Mok is that Bieber probably isn’t deathly afraid of water. But he MIGHT be! And while Ookla might be a ripoff of Chewbaca, Bieber is obviously little more than a hairless Ewok.

So do your part. Blog, Twitter and Facebook about Ookla the Mok today.

Don’t Poop Where You Partake

Posted on by kenwheaton in Drinking, Relationships, Uncategorized

I am lucky enough in this phase of my life to live within a 45-second walk from my favorite bar, a place where I’ve almost reached the status Norm had on “Cheers.” Taking a break from all your worries sure does help a lot. And it’s even better when everyone knows your name — but not your entire life’s back story or that thing you did that one time that none of your so-called friends just will not let go.

The Brazen Head is perfect for me: low-key; an interesting client base of locals, law students, lawyers, criminals and that one cat who just shows up and plays his clarinet along with whatever music is playing; a solid selection of bourbon (and Scotch, too, if you’re into that sort of thing); a dart board that is used by people who bring their own darts (I don’t play anymore, but this I find comforting); and a rotating selection of good beers but, just as equally, a place where no one is going to give you stink-eye if you order a Budweiser and a Jack on the rocks.

Also, the staff is exceedingly friendly and, in the case of the women, attractive (yes, even before the drinking starts).
Continue reading “Don’t Poop Where You Partake” →

A Quick Medical Question

Posted on by kenwheaton in WTF?

All things being equal, why would one arm pit sweat more than the other. And not just a little more, a lot more. Like, hypothetically speaking, if one were to wring out a t-shirt, nothing would come out of the left side, but the drippings from the right could probably fill up a bucket.

It’s arm-pit cancer, isn’t it? I just know it. Arm-pit cancer. Great. Now there’s a dignified death.

Case Study: How Twitter Helped Me Sell 500,000 Books

Posted on by kenwheaton in First Annual Grand Prairie Rabbit Festival

A year before my first novel was set to come out, I knew I’d have to turn to social media. If I wanted to move copies of The First Annual Grand Prairie Rabbit Festival, I’d have to switch to a new paradigm, think outside the box and, at the end of the day, create synergies with strangers across the country. After all, gone were the days when a well-written book was enough to make your mark (if such days ever existed). Advertising and other methods of old-fashioned marketing, I knew, are dead and don’t work at all anymore. And I certainly didn’t know the right people in New York’s celebrity-making blog and book factories — you know, the ones who decide who the next big thing will be based on a new writer’s degree from Iowa, or a handful of 500-word blog posts, or the lovely pallor of his/her white white skin, or a killer blowjob administered at a party.

Luckily there was Twitter. If it could overthrow Ahmanedinejad and bring freedom to all Iran, certainly it could sell a few thousand books.

Did it work? And how?
Continue reading “Case Study: How Twitter Helped Me Sell 500,000 Books” →

And Now a Word About Priests Molesting Children

Posted on by kenwheaton in First Annual Grand Prairie Rabbit Festival, Religion

Because I wrote a novel about a priest, people have been asking me about my thoughts on the most recent scandals revolving around child molestation and abuse.

My thoughts on the matter aren’t very complicated. If there is a hell, I don’t think there are enough rosary beads in the world to save the perpetrators who committed such acts or the church elders who not only covered such things up, but shuffled priests around, in essence allowing them access to a fresh crop of victims. Roast away. And, for the record, I’ll tell ye, there’ll be no butter in hell!
Continue reading “And Now a Word About Priests Molesting Children” →

This Threesome Cannot Continue

Posted on by kenwheaton in Fail Files

While sorting through the wreckage that was my life apartment, I found a box in the bathroom. In the box was a double-headed showerhead. It was a gift from years ago, 2005 I believe. I only remember because it was the first time I attempted the New York marathon and we’d gone to Boston for a wedding and I didn’t get a chance to run that weekend but did get a chance to experience, at the end of a cold, rainy miserable day, the sublime pleasure of a high-powered double-headed showerhead.
Continue reading “This Threesome Cannot Continue” →

Clean-up In Apt. 5

Posted on by kenwheaton in Cleaning, Drinking, Fail Files, Family, New York

My toilet is so clean you could actually eat out of it. I swear. Come over. I’ll hook you up with some Ramen or something.

But seriously. This weekend, I found some time between hangovers and driving out to East Hampton in craptastic weather to do some much-needed cleaning in the apartment.

Not only was it dirty, but there were the obvious psychological implications associated with cleaning after a relationship falls apart. I’d actually swept through the living room after the first week, completely rearranging that into something that didn’t resemble an unholy cross between Hoarders and a college dorm room. I came really close to hanging the flat-screen on the wall out of some misdirected spite but I didn’t like the thought of the wires running down the wall to wherever I’d put the Xbox, Wii and cable box. I liked even less the thought of the TV pulling out of the wall and crashing to the floor thanks to my slapdash handywork.
Continue reading “Clean-up In Apt. 5” →

Ironical

Posted on by kenwheaton in Books, Drinking, Subway

I’m on the 4 Train commuting to work this morning. Somewhere along the line, a couple blunders into the train. The woman takes a seat and the guy almost gets his jacket caught in the closing door.

“The fuck off of me. Give me my jacket,” he curses, but laughs at the same time.

Seems like someone’s had his liquid breakfast this morning, is in good spirits and, obviously, want to chat. I’m a magnet for such people, so I bury my head in my book. As we crawl by 33rd Street, he sets his eyes on me.
Continue reading “Ironical” →

Nanny-State Jackass of the Week: Felix Ortiz

Posted on by kenwheaton in politics, Rants

The Brooklyn Democrat Felix Ortiz, a state assemblyman in New York, “has introduced a bill that would ban the use of salt in New York restaurants – and violators would be smacked with a $1,000 fine for every salty dish.”

Of course, he’s portraying this as a way to save lives. What kills me is that anyone is even taking this joker seriously enough to debate him on the harm to the restaurant industry or the quality of food. I’m going to guess that Felix Ortiz is a man-child who’s never cooked a single meal in his life. Perhaps his mama still cooks his meals. And he’s obviously never worked in a restaurant. Probably doesn’t know a thing about food preservation.

Hey, Felix? Don’t like salt? Don’t eat it. And if your constituents have health issues supposedly related to salt, tell them to stay there asses home and eat fresh vegetables and fruits. The rest of us, we who actually have some element of personal responsibility and self-control remaining, kindly request you leave us alone.

So, Yeah, THAT Happened

Posted on by kenwheaton in Oh No They Didn't, WTF?

So, 2010. What a year, huh? My first novel gets published. The Saints win the Super Bowl. My wife moved out a month ago. They say two out of three ain’t bad. I’d like to find “they” and beat his head against a brick wall until my arms get tired.

WhaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!

Oh, yeah. That.

Now, listen kids, before I go any further, we both want you to know this didn’t happen because of you. And we don’t love you any less. It’s just sometimes, two people . . .

Well, to be honest, I don’t know what the hell happened except it happened. I wasn’t going to write it here because it seems sort of private and I can’t stand the thought of anyone writing blog comments offering condolences or asking questions or giving me phone numbers for meaningless late-night booty calls. (And, seriously, I ask that you don’t comment on this post. Or on Facebook. Or anywhere. Got something to say, e-mail me. You remember e-mail, right?)

As far as the privacy goes, it’s sort of disingenuous for a person who blogs, Tweets and Facebooks as much as I do to start making noises about privacy only when the shit hits the fan. And I have nothing to hide. There was no bad behavior by either party. And I certainly didn’t want to do any passive-aggressive half-drunken weep-blogging, with little dribs and drabs coming out here and there, the sort of thing used by some folks to get the other party to ask, “Is everything okay?”

Besides, once the paperwork starts happening it’s all a matter of actual public record anyway. (Not that THAT will happen anytime soon thanks to the ass-backwards divorce laws in New York.)

And booty calls? Save ’em. Unless you’re really into drunken, mediocre sexual encounters that will definitely end in one of us–if not both–crying.

So why now? Aside from the handy month mile-marker, you may have noticed I haven’t posted much in the last month. That’s partly due to laziness and depression, but also partly due to the fact that every time I logged on to WordPress, it was the elephant in the room. (See what I did there, AXA Financial? It’s an elephant, not an 800-pound gorilla that’s impossible to ignore. The 800-pound gorilla is WRONG.) Anyway, where was I. Oh, yeah. Elephant, a big ol’ writer’s block, dropping big ol’ elephant turds all over the place. Elephant turds of LIES!!! And also turds of self-delusion: If I didn’t write it, it wasn’t real. Yeah, that’s it.

Hell, I’d taken all sorts of notes in Hawaii—I was there for the tsuper tsunami from hell, after all—but the reason I didn’t share was I figured some of you meddling kids might start nosing around and start asking questions. “Hey, did you go to Hawaii alone? What’s a married guy doing in Hawaii alone?” Then again, no one said anything about the 100% wife-free photos, so you’re not exactly winning points for being observant.

But there it is. It happened. If you have questions, save ’em. I’m sure it’ll make for great writing one day, but for now I’m tired of talking about it.

And, for the record, I did go to Hawaii alone. I loved it. Traveling alone has its benefits. And it sure as hell beat moping my way over to The Brazen Head every night and pounding Jack Daniels until my liver started crying. Or I did.

Whatever the case, onward. See yall in the bars.