Snow In Louisiana? Hell Freezing Over?

The New Orleans Saints beat the crap out of the New England Patriots. That very same week it snows in Louisiana. In early December. Coincidence? I think not. Saints fans have been equating Louisiana’s steamy weather and making hell-freezing-over jokes ever since the Saints franchise took to the field and elevated losing to an art form.

That the Saints are undefeated at this point in the season is more miraculous than snow in early December–for the second year in a row. Hell, I don’t even want to write the word Saints in a blog post because I’m sure I’ll jinx them. And don’t even get me started on the Vikings, who happened to knock the Saints out of the playoffs the very first time they made it to post-season play. It’s enough to make me sick.

Funnily enough, in an early draft of The First Annual Grand Prairie Rabbit Festival, I had Father Steve visiting a friend’s house for a Monday Night Football game against division rival Atlanta Falcons. In the scene, they were throwing bottle caps at the TV by the second quarter and just quit watching at halftime, so disgusted were they at the state of play. For various reasons, I cut that scene. Now I kinda wish I had kept it, just to remind all of us Saints fans not to get too ahead of ourselves.
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The Turducken Flies at Midnight

Shhhh. Be vewy, vewy, quiet. We’re on the trail of the Turducken, a mysterious beast that haunts the wilds of South Louisiana. It’s a hard thing to track, partly because it’s not one, but three beings that form a symbiotic parasitic relationship. First, we have the Swamp Chicken. It feeds on nothing but live crawfish, raw rice and, when it can catch it, the even-more elusive six-legged Boudin, whose chirps and squeals can be heard on rainy Louisiana nights. Next, the Ground Duck. The Ground Duck hides in its lair for months at a time, waiting for the right moment when a Swamp Chicken walks by. Then it pounces. What follows is a revolting battle as the Ground Duck distends its beak far enough to swallow the Swamp Chicken whole. The job done, it lies there defenseless, much like a boa constrictor digesting a pig. And along comes the rarely seen Pelican Turkey, which simply makes a “Gobble-gobble” noise before scooping the new formed Duck Chicken with its impressive mandibles.
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Homicidal Psycho Jungle Ken

This morning I was given The Complete Calvin and Hobbes (Volumes 1, 2 and 3), which may be up there with one of the best Birthday Gifts ever. In the world. Published in 2005 and weighing in at 23.4 pounds, I’ve been waiting for it for a long time. Hell, I gave it to my son for his eight birthday and talked about it and talked about it and talked about it. Which, you know, HINT!
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Most Depressing Sentence of the Week

My income per book always reminds me of how tough it is to make at living at this gig, especially for writers who only produce one book per year.

The quote is from paranormal romance writer Lynn Viehl, whose last book was on the mass paperback bestseller list.

The bolding is mine. Because, really, people who ONLY produce one book a year? ONLY? One a year? Wow. Sure, I could probably crank out one rough draft a year, but one finished book? I don’t know about that.

Eddie Murphy: Poet

A twitter conversation prompted a fond memory of Eddie Murphy’s “Boogie In Your Butt.” If you don’t remember the tune, let me refresh your memory.

Say, put a tree in your butt
Put a, a bumblebee in your butt
Put a clock in your butt
Put a big rock in your butt
Say, put some fleas in your butt
Say, start to sneeze in your butt
Say, put a tin can in your butt
Put a little tiny man in your butt
Say, put a light in your butt
Say, make it bright in your butt
Say, put a TV in your butt
Say, put me in your butt
Everybody say

Full lyrics here.

The Only Remake of a Cheesy Favorite Worth Watching

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Everyone’s talking about the remake of Clash of the Titans now that a trailer is out.

But the only remake you’ll be lining up to watch next year is Piranha*. That remake will star Ving Rhames, Christopher Lloyd, Eli Roth, Elisabeth Shue, Dina Meyer and Paul Scheer.

Oh, and Richard Dreyfus.

The pity here is that they’re not remaking Piranha* Two: The Spawning, in which the piranha* have been genetically modified into FLYING piranha as part of a military experiment GONE HORRIBLY WRONG. Then again, perhaps they were afraid to mess with a movie that was directed by James Cameron. (Go on, click on the link if you don’t believe me.)

*To get the full effect, you should be pronouncing piranha in faux Spanish/Portuguese Pee-ron-ya. Even better if you use Beavis’ Cornholio voice.

Nice Things Said About My Book

You never know what might happen when you send advance reader copies of a novel out into the world. Some might end up in the garbage. Some might end up being sold on eBay. Some might snag you some publicity.

In the case of one copy of The First Annual Grand Prairie Rabbit Festival (B&N, Amazon), it resulted in a thoughtful and positive review from Josh Sternberg, a fellow Brooklynite, PR ninja, Twitterer and blogger. Go check it out. And I’m not just saying that because Josh really liked the book. Okay, so maybe that’s part of the reason I’m saying that. At some point, I’m sure I’ll get a bad review and only then will we know if I’ll actually link to such things. I’d LIKE to think I’d be man enough to do it.

Then again, if someone does write a bad review it will obviously be because he’s some dimwitted subliterate buffoon who doesn’t like me for political/personal/religious/hygiene-related issues, so you never know.

In other advance-copy news, a copy was requested by Sarah Wagley Branton down Opelousas-way to be auctioned off during the Rotary Club’s live TV auction to raise money for the Boys & Girls Club as well as the Opelousas-Eunice Public Library. While the book didn’t get as much as John Ed Bradley’s “It Never Rains in Tiger Stadium” did last year, it did go for over $50 to Charles Dore. Not like I expected it to do anything close to a book about LSU football (a book I highly recommend, by the way).

That’s all I have for now. I could go on an unhinged rant about Borders still insisting that the book was written by someone named Liz Wheaton, but I’ll save that for another day.