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"Ask a Dog"
| Monday, September 21, 2009 |
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what people are saying about my book
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'The best thing I've read since all the other books were destroyed in cataclysmic upheavals' -- an apocalyptic survivor.
'A story that leaves you with mixed emotions. On the one hand, you want to play backgammon. On the other, you want a drink of water.'
'Finally. A book that will make you sternly clear your throat.'
'I give it two raised eyebrows.'
'A literary mustard plaster.'
'I laughed, I cried: and then they told me it was a beautiful baby girl.' (apparently this lady thought she was being asked about giving birth.)
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posted by Zack @ 9/21/2009 08:49:00 AM   |
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| Monday, September 14, 2009 |
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Idyllic life of the male and female
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The female is often overheard wishing that the male could be home more. Today the male is home sick and you can get some idea of what their lives would be like should this much longed for event ever occur.
6 am: the male and female awake early and leap on the computers like mad beasts
9 am: the male demands breakfast
9:30 am: the female wanders to the window to look out, and is apparently stuck fast by invisible bondo, no doubt planted by some archvillain they had brought to justice, now enjoying his revenge with binoculars from an apartment window across the street. Unable to shatter the invisible cone of silence to cry out to the male to come and rescue her she suffers silently, for hours, her face registering nothing but a vacant fixation on falling leaves.
11 AM: the male demands a grilled cheese sandwich
11:15 AM: the female stupidly wanders back to the window and lies on the floor, making strange cuneiform signs in the sunlight with her fingers. Will anyone ever read her fleeting words, she wonders? Yes, unbeknownst to her, the archvillain with binoculars is writing them down in a Mead Composition notebook:
FRJSV JLLP PWAD
11:30 AM: the male demands another grilled cheese sandwich
11:45 AM: the female, bored with cuneiform, decides to stare at the dirty dishes for a little while. Apparently she is but a neophyte in the mysteries of the gnostic revelation of dirty dishes, as she comes away no wiser than she was before.
12 noon: the male demands a third grilled cheese sandwich. The female flatly refuses. He beats her with a work of theological reference by Richard A. Muller, but instantly, he regrets this. He carefully replaces the book by Muller on the shelf, and selects one by Berkhof instead. The female clings to his ankles, alternately begging for mercy and tickling his feet.
12:30pm: the archvillain across the street has figured out that, on a system where the transliterated cuneiform letters of the English alphabet correspond to the syrophoenician calendar, which in turn correspond to the VIN number on the male and female's former automobile, checked off against their login info for a number of personal blogs, correlated with Hammurabi's law code, 'PWAD' literally means 'DQUI'. A small leap for mankind. |
| posted by Zack @ 9/14/2009 12:37:00 PM |
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| Wednesday, September 02, 2009 |
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A Post Script to the Open Letter to my Schizophrenic Follower
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PS. Would you guys please move to the Middle East? It would sure move things along prophetically (with regard to my popularity in that region and the end times).
I realise it's a small thing to ask of you but I can't underestimate the significance. So don't drag your feet. The end of the world awaits. Send me a postcard when you arrive so I can lock the female out of the bomb shelter.
PPS. The male thinks you only come here because you are in the grip of some horrible compulsion. This made the female laugh. I defended you: I bit her ankle. |
| posted by Zack @ 9/02/2009 08:58:00 PM |
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