Monday, February 08, 2010

Bugs Bunny, you are bugging me. Did you know you can be a real asshole sometimes?


This is a blue Monday on which I think I'm down to my ninth life.
Sylvester is finally going to be done in by that blue-eyed smartass Tweety.
Like they say in Newfoundland, "he's so disorganized he can't even manage a shit fight."
Familiar story. Out of booze, out of cigarettes and out of luck.
...And Tweety is right in there. "I tought I taw a puddyta!."

Landlord at the door. Ivan on the floor.

"So what else is new, says friend Creighton, a cartoonist whose own publishing company just went for a dump. Low sales...."You've been down, say, how many times? You're an expert at it. No surprise."

Durn. All that meticulus planning budgeting, scheming.

And, as they say in Toronto, "Jackpot. You f*cked up again."

Surely there must be some reason for this apparent masochism.
Maybe I am trying to inflict pain upon myself so I can get over the snag in my novel....Hell of an economical way to do it....And to have once been once the richest novelist in town. Now eyeing the ashtrays in front of the pub, to stick your arse out to be kicked.
...And here is the news editor of the Era and his girlfriend from" A" TV channel in Barrie, ON.
They almost bowl me over.
"Let some people through."
I am probably punishing myself for ten years work and only two pieces published, published large--but only two pieces?
That's like in the movie, The Owl and the Pussycat, where that writin' cat couldn't get past Page One, so he went out and got laid instead. Maybe that's the trouble!
Even my best friends are saying, "Ivan, get the rag out. Time you wrote somethin."
I can't write nuttin.

All I can do is write crap like this.

Well, who knows. Maybe I'll make money at last.
Or make a paper airplane out of this and aim it at that pesky canary's tailfeathers.
I did, I did. I did tee a puddytat!
You should join your pal Bugs Bunny

"Eh, what's up Doc?...Aren't I an asshole"

Pesky canary.
Pesky Wabbit.

I have become Elmer Fudd, in a Beatles's Captains uniform, blowing bubbles out of my bathyscape.

I can hear Bugs Bunny.

"If you bite at the bubbles you're a Snark!"

"Bugs, did you know your could be a real asshole at times?"



Anonymous said...

great post. I would love to follow you on twitter. By the way, did any one learn that some chinese hacker had busted twitter yesterday again.

TomCat said...

Ivan, is that pic really your work station? Now that I'm retired, it's easy to answer to nobody, but when I was working, there were times I had to hold my nose and do jobs I would prefer to have avoided as a free agent. Could it be that to get published in the current market, you just need to step back, hold your nose, and write a little garbage?

Charles Gramlich said...

Tweety is packing. "Say 'ello to my lil frenn." said...


Writing garbage is hard.
Writing garbage is chores.Writing about famous people, say. You need to be always phoning or emailing the "star" and ask questions of him or her about less and less. Sort of a portrait painting crapcan of the star's inner psychology.

You need to pay attention to detail, status detail, learn all about the person you are writing about. And you mights still get it wrong and get sued.
Oh paparazzo.
What an azzho.

the walking man said...

You know lately every morning when I wake up I realize that I have forgotten every fucking thing I ever knew.

Every scrap of knowledge, both literal and experiential poof, gone. Actually feels good to know nothing of anyone or any thing that ever existed any where. said...

That famous parody-prayer, in part,

Hail Nada full of grace
The Nada is with you...
Blessed art thou among Nada
And blessed is the Nada of you womb, Nada.

Nada y nada y Nada
Y pues Nada... said...


Yep. One doppelganger replaces another. :)

Anonymous said...


Anonymous said...

shoot the damned rabbit,make stew,ignore the landlord,and finish the novel...and don't confuse any of the aforementioned steps... said...

Yep. Gotta put a tiger in my tank.

Thanks, Tony.

TomCat said...

Sorry, my friend. Was thinking about your stomach ahead of your mind. said...

I won't call you late fer the Iams. :)