I’m going to give you two sets of parody lyrics I’ve written. The first is from my first book, CARROT ON A STICK published April 10, 2000. It’s written to the tune of that old cowboy song, HOME ON THE RANGE and I’m sure most of you know the tune.
Oh give me a home where the roaches don’t roam,
where the ants and the spiders don’t play.
Where seldom is heard, “Mom, look a rat turd”
on top of the silverware tray.
Bugs inside my range and the ‘fridge is always the same.
There’s flies there a plenty, but I…
Friend requests from pretty girls —
what do they want with me?
Getting tagged by those I know.
Its just a memory.
Everyone’s offended now,
there’s nothing I can say
that doesn’t anger half of them,
and drive the rest away.
I didn’t come to M$%^&m to make friends, nor did I want another blog to maintain. I spend far more time online than is healthy for me. And while I’d like to supplement my $948.oo a month Social Security check (my only real income) I have a bigger dream.
Yesterday’s article, What Really Happened to Brian and Gabby? got me some flack. I knew it would. Any time any writer dares to question the media’s version of the story things get heated. That’s why I prefer to write fiction and poetry.
It’s really sad women of color don’t get the same level of media attention when they go missing. I’m hoping that changes someday soon but I’m not betting it will.
Too many adults are terrified of science because science brings about change. …
It is true that some people reading this post might not know who Pepe the Frog is — and that doesn’t surprise me. However, the people who don’t know Pepe also wouldn’t accidentally u…
I had no clue. Thank you for making me aware.
But I have to wonder if the relator might have violated the copyright when using an image not of his or her own making. In other words, does the creator of Pepe the Frog know his or her work is being used in this way?
Currently most of the nation is under the assumption that Brian Laundrie murdered Gabby Petito. Perhaps he did. There is plenty of circumstantial evidence that, on the surface, suggests that is exactly what happened but to date I’ve read or heard nothing that would convict Brian Laundrie for the murder of Gabby Petito.
Did you ever stop to wonder if perhaps Brian was running away from Gabby’s killer when he returned to Florida?
I’m not claiming that is actually what happened but based on what little we really know it is just as plausible as anything else. …
I hope the familiar feeling of getting out of this rut will come back to me again soon enough.
Am I the only one who remembers WrittenByMe (dot) com way back in 1999? That was the first of many paid-to-write websites I tried.
Like all of them there was serious money to be made.... until the venture capital ran out. Yet they always follow the same proven-to-fail business model.
Are venture capitalists really that dumb, or have they figured a means to profit from the information they gather from the millions who write and read on their websites that continues to rake in profits long after each website is gone?
There was a poet no one knew
whose inspiration no one drew.
His time on Earth was all in vain
as none would come to know his name.
But as luck would have it, his dreams came true;
after all was lost, his words they knew.
No words survived except his own
in a time when all the bards were gone.
Imagine a time when no one writes poems or stories, when all such works are gone, and yet the works of only one remain.
Follow, follow, follow me.
Give me some claps —
it’s easy and free.
How ‘bout some tips —
it won’t cost you much.
Follow me, we can stay
Become a member
of my society —
it’s cheap and it’s free.
Do it to me, I’ll do it to you —
and you never get screwed.
It never gets messy,
not like a break up,
and I’ll follow you
’til I’ve followed enough.
Give me my hundred,
a thousand or more;
maybe a million,
but let’s not keep score.
Follow, follow, follow me.
Claps are easy…
I know that by serializing my novel as a newsletter I lose the prestige of a Penguin on my book spine and a blurb in The New York Times. I know that by attempting to market my newsletter and gain new subscribers, my work becomes more “commercial” and less (the more coveted) “literary.” I know that by attempting to earn a living doing it, I lose the reputational purity of “doing it for the art.”
As one who has self-published several books, and written online for over 20 years I can tell anyone, you have to be crazy to be a writer, or artist of any kind.
99% of all publishing efforts are failures in the market place.
The vast majority of artists will remain unknown-- even some of the best in their fields.
And I've often wondered if perhaps a lot of the books we consider to be classics only survived because no one needed to burn the last copy to keep from freezing to death.
But then I think wierd things like that.
I know that much has to do with clappers and runners, those who clap without reading the stories. But they have always been there, even when I had a few hundred followers.
Who claps without reading? You must scroll to the end of the story to find the clapper. Personally, I don't like the clap system at all and would prefer a thumbs-up, thumbs-down version like Stumbleupon used to have.