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Found 7 results

  1. Some people might think that the 1st memes invented were Keyboard cat, Philosoraptor and the numa-numa guy. That would be very, very wrong. Imagine you lived in a Kingdom that was one of the most powerful and influential in the world but, it had fallen on hard times. The king was, by all accounts, a corrupt incompetent dolt. The people were hungry and the spoiled, foolish Queen, when told there was no bread for the peasants said let them eat cake. While this might sound uncomfortably familiar to modern Americans, this was the climate that gave rise to the French Revolution. It was also the fertile ground for the French satirists who I submit were early generation memers. What people fail to understand about memes is they are much more about ideas than humor but the combination of the two makes them that much more powerful. What we call memes is an evolution of an ancient idea called satire more succinctly defined as the illustration of the absurd with absurdity. Every middle schooler naturally knows about satire because that is when they inevitably meet an incompetent and bungling bureaucracy. One must take care with satire as to be a proper smart ass, you must first be smart. Otherwise, you are just an ass. There were many French satirists. I would like to focus on a gentleman named Voltaire. Voltaire and the French satirists used their wit to point out the myriad hypocrisies and inequities of their political and social situations. Like Charlie Hebdo, many of the French Revolutionary era satirists faced rather deadly blow-back from those that failed to see the humor in their work. This was an amazing era and one that the modern democracies owe much to because many of the things we see as foundations of democracy were first discussed by the thinkers during this era. They were seeing the end of the monarchy as a practical form of government and looked forward to imagine what the next step would look like. See if you recognize any of Voltaire’s ideas: I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it. Judge a person by their questions, rather than their answers. To learn who rules over you, simply find out who you are not allowed to criticize. It is dangerous to be right when the government is wrong. Common sense is not so common. It is hard to free fools from the chains they revere. Prejudices are what fools use for reason. As long as people believe in absurdities they will continue to commit atrocities. When it is a question of money, everybody is of the same religion. Superstition sets the whole world in flames; reason quenches them. Voltaire would have been hell on wheels if he had internet access. Be suspicious when you hear people in power discount the ideas of others. Those silly memers that poke them right in the hypocrisies have quite the history. So, when you see memers banned from facebook or twitter, what you are really seeing is da man swatting the Socratic gad-fly that stung him in a sore spot. Only a fearful tyrant censors speech. He is afraid that you will tell the people just what a putz he really is.
  2. Sue Townsend rightly has the reputation as one of our finest comic novelists. Adrian Mole is one of the great comic characters and Sue Townsend did the most refreshing of things, she allowed him to age naturally. What we often forget is was what a good satirist she was too. This book steals the format from her other creation, Adrian Mole. This is the secret diary of Margaret Hilda Roberts, aged 14¼, living above her father’s grocer's shop in Grantham. This is Margaret Thatcher as a girl, long before she met and married Denis. Here Sue Townsend presents all the character tropes that Thatcher was renowned for – the workaholic, surviving on two hours’ sleep a night, the disdain for the working class, the distrust of the BBC and the inability to see the benefit of art – and she presents them in the character of a fourteen-year-old girl. This makes them seem absurd and very strange. Sue Townsend subtly questions these qualities, are they really positive characteristics? This book is also populated with caricatures of political figures from the same time. They are broad caricatures and often presented as other children in Margaret Hilda Roberts’s life, but the in-joke of recognising the real politicians just adds to the fun. This book is fun too, Sue Townsend’s wonderful sense of humour is plainly on display here and her jokes hit the mark (more than once I laughed out loud). The only problem with this book is that it’s so short and ended too soon. Find it here on Amazon
  3. Satire is a difficult form to get right. If it is too humorous then it might not be biting enough; if the satire hits home then it can be dry and even dull, and then it can be humourless and miss its target. These two short stories take a satirical aim at religious persecution and antisemitism in particular. Holocaust Tips for Kids is a young teenage American boy’s view of the Nazi Holocaust. It reads like that teenage boy’s scrapbook, facts and reportage sit all beside the boy’s own writing on how he would survive a modern holocaust. This takes broad swipes at Hollywood action-adventure films, using their logic to fight a holocaust. Smite the Heathens, Charlie Brown is written in the form of the classic American Charlie Brown story, using almost all the many characters from that world. Here there is a war, in the Charlie Brown world, between the believers in Schulz, the creature of them all, and the Giant Pumpkin God. The characters quickly fall into the different factions, seeing the others as heathens and therefore justifying their own actions. Shalom Auslander has captured both these separate worlds extremely well. In the first story, he captures both the voice and logic of a teenage boy. In the second story, he unnervingly captures the tone and sound of the Charlie Brown stories. Unfortunately, Auslander’s satire is nothing new and fires at targets that other writers hit bull’s-eyes on long before him. The skill of his writing impressed me, tonally these two stories are so different and yet each of them perfectly captures the voice they are written in. But the satire here is nothing new, we have heard it all before by other writers. I wish Auslander had taken aim at different, new targets here or had found something new to say. Find it here on Amazon
  4. Mojo A Post-Modern Satire and Sex Comedy by AC Benus I am so happy to open this topic for discussion of this amazing work from AC Benus. I am also lucky to have been able to be a sounding board, support and, a friend during this last year. Please read and enjoy ... and let's talk..
  5. My new project. Introducing Mojo A Post-Modern Satire and Sex Comedy Story Description: In this send-up of Trump's America, grifters, drifters; liars, cheats and lovers; rapscallions and wags; pathicks, punks and porn stars all collide in a SoCal, Vegas and Baja California adventure to restore one man's sacred libido. But will he still have his boyfriend by the end of it…?
  6. Before you start rubbing your hands with glee at the thought of something new, it isn't. Unless you missed it the first time around, that is. This story, currently On Hold, started out as a response to one of Cia's writing games. This is Chapter 1. Both I and its then readers thought the demon deserved more, so additional chapters followed. Much as I loved writing the humour and satire, the characterisation and plotting left something to be desired. Nothing insolvable - just needing more time than I've had to spare. The urge to return to Hell has hauled me back and I'm considering the options. One reason for this topic is to explain that the next thing to happen to Demonised is likely to be the appearance of a Prologue. Yes, I know - mad. But... Chapter 1 gets going without any introduction to the characters or locale at all (a legacy of its conception) and readers deserve more. It'll also help me to set the tone of Tommie (the demon's damned) from the outset, and from there I stand a chance of making the rest at least more coherent.
  7. Just something I started writing on my tablet after listening to "Radioactive" by Imagine Dragons. The inspiration from that song went four ways and this seemed to get the most out of it. I know where I want it to go, but I don't know how to proceed exactly. I'm not very good at sci-fi, but this seemed like a good start, so let me know what you think of my small snippet! Bear in mind that this was written on a tablet and therefore is probably missing more punctuation than is acceptable to me, lol. But I would love to hear your thoughts, no matter what they are. I really have been wanted to write a story with a main concept is "us vs. them" so here's attempt 1! Prologue The year was 2126 CE when a nuclear explosion sent half of the planet known as Earth into galactic orbit. A gaping hole was left in the middle of one of the oceans that went so deep, the planet’s core was exposed, leaving it to quickly cool in the noxious, poisonous air that had become the atmosphere. The dust that the explosion kicked up blocked out the already dying sun and the blast alone killed off two-thirds of the native population of native humanoids, the humans. The radiation was killing even more every day. At first we didn’t want to interfere. Something about the Fates and the plans they had for the pitiful, primitive species who, unimaginatively, called themselves humans. But our High Council eventually voted to save their miserable lives. After all, they were our creation. Our DNA had created the species that had destroyed the beautiful planet we had given them to inhabit. Greed and envy and an obsession with an almighty, all-seeing being dubbed ‘God’ had led to the extinction of millions of unique plants and animals that we had painstakingly engineered for them to enjoy. They had invaded Earth like an infestation. Everything was gone in the blink of an eye. But since they were, in a way, our children, we were ultimately deemed responsible. We spirited away the remained billion or so humans left and took them to our own planet where we hoped they would thrive and live with their creators peacefully. We had never been so wrong. Those first years were tumultuous. We all knew they would be. Our culture was so vastly different from the one they had settled into. We, who prided ourselves on knowledge and the advancement of our race and the preservation of our planet, were so alien to them, who prided themselves on personal advancement and the accumulation of vast quantities of money. Money was not a foreign concept to us, but the need for it that the humans displayed certainly was. We had very little need for it. Everything we needed was provided for by the High Council; clothes, food, shelter, electricity. Anything else we wanted we had to work for and earn money in order to purchase. We offered them the same opportunity to earn our currency by working alongside us, and tough some took part and enjoyed life with us, most did not. The majority wanted more money, but without taking the effort to earn it. For the first time since the Splintering, crime in our cities became a serious problem. It was hard for them to adjust. They couldn’t understand why we, who looked so much like them, could be so radically different. Evolution hadn’t changed much in us, physically. Anatomically, us and the humans were essentially the same. Mentally, we were far superior. When human scientists had first started hypothesizing where evolution would take them, they envisioned bulging eyes and massive heads to accommodate a growing cranial cavity in conjunction with increased brain function. For us, instead of our brains growing larger, they became compacted and denser and were able to use the existing space our skulls had provided more efficiently. Our brain function was so advanced that we had great telepathic and telekinetic abilities, thought use of the former in everyday life was strictly prohibited. And by some small miracle of fate, we were blessed – or perhaps cursed – with a greatly increased lifespan and a tremendously slow aging process. From the time we were born to the time we reached about the age of thirty, we aged rapidly, normally per se. From then on, our aging process was dramatically slow. On average, we lived to be about fifteen hundred years old. We should have known that our ‘immortality’ would spur the greed in them. After all, the secret to our long lives was in our blood. It wasn’t long before they had turned against us and were killing us for our blood to prolong their own comparatively short lives. I had just finished my formal education and sealed my marriage with my life partner when the researchers that had been observing Earth returned with the remaining humans. My husband and I were of the many with hope who welcomed our new brethren with open arms. Most of them looked at Eyrael and me with disgust, homosexuality another thing they were loath to accept. Our own people had long ago come to accept those who preferred the same sex as a form of population control. Homosexual couples were more than accepted, they were welcomed. In fact, homosexual couples were one of the only ways heterosexual couples could bypass the Only Child Law which was passed to prevent our planet from being overrun in the same manner Earth had been. By receiving the blessing of a homosexual couple, a heterosexual couple could have another child on behalf of the couple who could not have their own child naturally. Whether the homosexual couple wanted to be a part of the resulting child’s life was another matter, a personal matter between the two couples. The humans couldn’t seem to grasp the concept of harmony. The thought still is upsetting. Within fifty years, our capital city was facing crime rates that far exceeded anything that had occurred during the Splintering. Our people were being cruelly murdered in the streets and the humans took advantage of the chaos and managed to break into the Building of the High Council and murder everyone before declaring themselves the new masters of our planet and essentially enslaving those of us left. They celebrated their takeover by resetting our calendar to what they called After Liberation. We bitterly called it After Infestation. Most of the scientists, including my husband, were the first to be carted off to prison camps to be harvested for their blood. The humans were giving those of that remained a warning: disobey and suffer the same fate. They hadn’t learned anything from their past wars. I haven’t seen my Eyrael since the humans raided his lab. I don’t even know if he’s still alive. I doubt I will ever know the truth. Now we are all but an endangered species, held captives by those we created and set loose on the world. Our own world. 22 AL was when I was taken to the largest blood farm in the capital and thrown into this cell. They tell me that the only reason I’m still alive is to suit their needs for our blood, but I know I’m more valuable than that. As a historian, I have the ability, the training, and the memory to record what has happened. I’m also one of the only historians they kept alive after the purge of 15 AL when they killed all of the theorists and scholars and historians so they would be sure we didn’t revolt and so their own bloody part in the fall of our civilization could only be remembered as a tale of liberty instead of what it truly was: a massacre. As such, I am also one of the last of my race that was learned in our own history, before the creation of the humans, before the Splintering, before the Unification. They won’t admit it, but they need me. Alive. I only wish I wasn’t. All I can do is hope the end will come soon. But with more than thirteen hundred years left of an average life left, it is only a passing dream that I will find eternal peace in death anytime soon. ~~~~~ first entry, Jyn, Historian, 28 AL, English Let me know what you think!
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