Archive for April, 2009

The Beard Brothers

Some fellers are fixin’ to get some information out of me. NotRuairi is (n’t?) at it, as is this hirsute hombre. Six things they want, which is a bit annoying, since I gone and did 25 of them on Facebook a while ago. Seriously, those are all the things about me. I have nothing left.

But then I read Andrew’s facts, and it occurred to me that they were awful familiar. Awful familiar indeed… for you see, I know this man – or rather, I knew him. We were a team, Andrew and I, before an unpleasantness forced us apart. Then a while later we were a team again, before a misunderstanding put paid to our relationship. Then after a couple of years we were a team again, and then we kind of got really really drunk, and I guess there might have been some psychotropics in the mix, and basically we haven’t seen each other since.

Many fine histories of our exploits have been written1, but here’s a few choice “behind the scenes” nuggets that tend to get left out:

1. While my favourite pen is a Bic biro, Andrew is a die-hard fan of Staedtlers. In order to minimise arguments and avoid needless destruction of property, we tend to write in pencil when in each other’s company.

2. You know where at the start of those Pepé le Pew cartoons the cat would squeeze under like a freshly-painted fence or something and then the skunk would chase her for ages looking to do the deed on her? Well, [excised at the request of the British Royal Family]

3. In the space of three minutes during a late-night/early-morning singalong in a Munich pub in the 1860s, we inadvertently invented the Eurovision, paracetamol and Cambodia.

4. Pork, as a meat, was much less delicious before we started hanging out together. We’re not sure why.

5. We wrote the preliminary code for Auto-Tune in 1971. It’s taken 38 years for someone to find a proper use for it.

6. The seven-day-week thing is one of Andrew’s most common boasts  but, as usual, he was only partly responsible. I recall it was a balmy Blurnsday evening back in the sixteenth century: myself and himself were pretty heavily into peyote at the time, as were the rest of the Tibetan aristocracy2, and in the middle of one of our lengthier binges I happened to make an offhand comment about there being seven celestial bodies visible to the naked eye. Well, things got somewhat hazy, but when we came to several days later Andrew was clutching a sheaf of paperwork from the US Patent Office3. After several months on the road, and some characteristic mountebankery, we’d convinced the rest of the world to adopt the new system.

  1. q.v. particularly the following paragraph on Wikipedia: “In the course of history, men with facial hair have been ascribed various attributes such as wisdom and knowledge, sexual virility, or high social status; and, conversely, filthiness, crudeness, or an eccentric disposition, such as in the case of a bum, hobo or vagrant.” []
  2. Long story. []
  3. which office, ironically, we ourselves had founded less than two weeks earlier. []

The secret of klassic komedy

This secret: I have discovered it. It’s all about third seasons. Black Books especially, but especially Arrested Development – the only way you could beat the jokes-per-second density of AD3 is by watching Airplane! on fast forward.

Which is not to say that writers should completely skip the first two seasons of a new show. Temporal logistics aside1, that would be depriving us of some fine material. No. But on the other hand, why waste your A-game? And why keep us waiting?

Clearly the only solution is to hire a technically competent team of writers who nevertheless lack that certain spark, and task them with writing the first two seasons. The original creators and true creative minds can write the third season concurrently2, with the lesser seasons being held back for release as a DVD extra.

I literally cannot conceive of any problems with this plan. Someone start writing cheques for me now, because I am on fire.

  1. Physics: ever the enemy of comedy. Well, except slapstick. []
  2. Or maybe they’d have to wait a while, have a staggered start to the writing of each season… I don’t know, the bean counters can work it out. []

A free thing for you

Spectacularly poor timing – I meant to post this much earlier – but I find myself in possession of a whole heap of blank postcards (for mysterious reasons!) and I’m looking for something to do with them. I’ve always felt bad when other people do mix CDs and whatnot because there’s very little I can give them in return. So here we are: send an email to post at emesq dot com with your postal address and maybe a word or a sentence on what you’re into and I’ll write a short story for you.1

I’m hoping this is a thing that will be fun for all concerned. If it goes well enough we may even be able to throw some capital letters on there and make it a full-blown honest to god Thing. I would like that. And so would she.

  1. Very short, mind, we’re talking about a postcard here. I’ll make up for it by throwing on a wee doodle as well. Maybe even in colour! []

coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee

I would post but my good LORD how is it so hot in here. Faces are not supposed to sweat. That is something I firmly believe. Surely this whole scenario should make sweet delicious cups of cheap nonsense coffee less attractive but no, I want them. I want them very badly. I haven’t slept in days. I have discovered that being on edge is a prerequisite of good writing. I have been doing some very, very good writing. Everyone should read some Roberto Bolaño. Where was I? Oh, right.