A quote or two

"It's easy to suck. It's not sucking that's hard." -- She.

To suck is the natural state of everything. It is unnatural to be naturally talented.

I just read this book that was possibly the most boringest book ever. It was a book about the importance of a good data management strategy in today's world. It's called something like "data management is important in today's world"

It might not actually be the most boringest book in the world. I'll never know because no way I'm getting  through it. It is roughly 600 pages long. I have to read about 30 pages of it. I have gotten through 15. Pure torture. Here's an example of the type of writing it is.  Not a quote from the book, but the same style. Unfortunately, like when SNL mocks Trump, I won't do justice to the actual horror:

It is very important for companies to understand how important a good data management strategy is and how important it is for companies to understand this. When we say it's important, we mean that without a good data management strategy, many companies in many ways will suffer from not maximizing the management of their data. You know. because of their lack of a good data management strategy ...

Oh excuse me - that's the phone. Hang on ...

Hello. Yeah - Oh hi, guys from that terrible book I'm reading. What's up? No - I was just making a joke. I wasn't serious. But anyway, I already have a job.  Thanks for the offer.

Ok, sorry. Where was I?

It's easy to suck. What sucks most about this book is that it uses a whole lot of words to say very little.  I kind of get it. When we were in school, we had to write essays. We had to write a certain number of words or pages.  We filled in. That's how most of us write.

But real writers? Man. When I am reading something from a real writer and I get to one of those pithy sentences. There's nothing better. Christopher Moore is one of my favorites.  I started reading his new book "Noir" a couple of days ago.

I'm not sure, but I'm thinking he's decided to start each chapter with a wonderful short, hilarious sentence.

The book is set in post WWII San Francisco.  The end of the Prologue (just before chapter one - it's like the plaza level of the book) goes like this:

Yeah, a dame, that's how it all starts ...

So that's cool. The language of the prologue gets the reader into the right narrative voice (whatever the hell that means).

It really wasn't the whole first sentence either. But anyway, it goes like this:

She had the kind of legs that kept her butt from resting on her shoes.

For me it was the first 6 words. Completely cliche. I knew the next part was going to be something about how ridiculously long her legs were. I was wrong. So good.


Ok, chapter 2, sentence one. Again 1947 San Francisco:

The fog lay spread across the city like a drowned whore - damp, cold, smelling of salt and diesel - a sea-sodden streetwalker who'd just bonked a tugboat ...

and just as a bonus, I'll go into the second sentence:

"Fog's a little slutty tonight," said the cabbie, leaning against his hack at the curb outside Sal's.

You know what? What am I doing? I'm going to go read my book now. You should too.

"Noir" - Christopher Moore.

You're welcome.


P.S. - There was something bugging me about this post after I finished it. I was terribly worried that my reader(s) might think I was stretching the truth about how much I like Christopher Moore's writing.  If only there was a way to prove I'm not just some fair weather so-and-so. That's when I got up and turned to my bookshelf. I don't have much of a Christopher Moore collection. I've given away almost all of the books I've read.  Except for two of them.  Other than these 2 books, I don't have any that are "signed by the author".

So there. I win.

Although. Now that I take a close look at that signature ... I might actually be a Channing Tatum fan.  Rawr! I can't really tell.

Yeah. Channing Tatum. That there's a writer.

How to tell if your data was shared by Facebook, A step by step guide.

1) Do you have a Facebook account?

2) Was your data shared? (answer is the same for both questions).

You're welcome.

Based on a true hallucination (A Western)

A few days ago, I was sitting here at the computer, looking at how awesome my workout was.  My workout was a bike ride. I usually like to stare at the numbers for a while and decide how it seems to be going. I like to find some way to look at the workout that makes me feel like I don't totally suck. Usually, it doesn't work, so I have to just plan to work out better next time.

As I was staring at the charts and things, I started to doze off a little. I snapped back to consciousness to catch my head and was able to recall the words that had been going on as I had begun to drift off.

The words were  "Shadow didn't like being followed by the rider man and told all of his disciples it was good."

This means nothing to me. I was not able to make any sense of it. But that's what the narrator said, so it must be important. I'm thinking that since this comes from some jumbled up thoughts in my falling asleep brain, that if I make up a story where this sentence makes sense, it will be exactly the same as if I had not woken to catch my head.

So here's the story that attempts to put that sentence in context and ends up being exactly what I was going to dream ...

But first, I should note that I have not given this any thought yet. I haven't worked out the story.

When I first wrote down the words "Shadow didn't like being followed by the rider man and told all of his disciples it was good," I figured that if I stared at it a while, the meaning or reason would become clear.

No. I have no idea where to begin with this.

I suppose I could just really cop out like this:

"Wakey wakey, Chad,"

"Hey. Ouch! Cut it out Rider."

Rider was tapping Chad "Shadow" in the ribs with the end of his 6-shooter.

"How'd you get here anyway?" Shadow asked, "I thought I lost you back at the junction. You know, I don't like it when you follow me.  That's what I told the disciples."

"Whose disciples? Mine or yours?" Rider asked.

"How the hell should I know?" countered Shadow.

"Hey you want to go get some ice cream or something?" Rider pleaded.

"And how!" exclaimed Shadow.

"Mount up boys! We're headed to 31 flavors!"

"Yee-Haw!" screamed the disciples, throwing their dusty hats in the air.

Shadow had Butter Brickle and The Rider Man got "Rocky Road," mostly so he could say, "You know Shadow, Ice cream is a lot like life."

Rolling his eyes and with a heavy sigh, because he'd heard it a dozen times before, Shadow said with as little interest as he could muster, "Why's that Rider?"

"It don't matter how rocky your road is, as long as somebody's there to butter your brickle."

At that, they both looked at each other and wept uncontrollably.

The End.