Back in late September and into October, I started posting ridiculous things on Twitter, an account I’ve predominantly kept as a morning ritual of promoting whatever I’ve put on the daily blog. One
could see this as a time-waster, but these tweets (predominantly sent later
into the evening) first occurred as a series of brain twists, bad jokes and
small studies. Just what can one do in such a short space? The Montreal writer Arjun
Basu, author of Squishy (DC, 2008), has long used his twitter account to post tiny short stories, deliberately built to exist within the medium of one hundred and
forty characters, and some of the pieces are quite amazing (I keep waiting for
him to produce a small book of such, but it hasn’t yet happened). And doesn’t just about everyone remember that infamous short story by Ernest Hemingway?
(Brautigan wrote a tiny one as well, equally sharp, although less infamous) Originally,
I began composing these short tweets triggered by an episode of The Daily Show, after Jon Stewart made
some tweet jokes with the tag line #IDontHaveFactsToBackThisUp. I think I composed half
a dozen over the following forty minutes. And since I was composing a
collection of short, short stories at the time, I included the best of them in
the eventual manuscript:
Pee-Wee Herman 1st created using secret Soviet stealth tech; it’s why
we’ve barely seen him since #IDontHaveFactsToBackThisUp @TheDailyShow
at least 1 Cdn province and 2 US states don't actually exist; try 2 guess
which ones #IDontHaveFactsToBackThisUp @TheDailyShow
17 perfect clones of Winston Churchill exist, but chose vintage car
restoration over world issues #IDontHaveFactsToBackThisUp @TheDailyShow
most breeds of dogs dream secret lives as cats
#IDontHaveFactsToBackThisUp @TheDailyShow
Winnipeg was founded by cheese moguls #IDontHaveFactsToBackThisUp
@TheDailyShow
radishes, eaten raw, have been known to grant superpowers
#IDontHaveFactsToBackThisUp @TheDailyShow
Radium tastes like buttermilk #IDontHaveFactsToBackThisUp @TheDailyShow
Jim Morrison died in 1971. Elvis Presley died in 1977. No, really. Get
over it. #IDontHaveFactsToBackThisUp @TheDailyShow
Most of these were composed relatively
quickly in front of the television as odd little jokes, some groaners, some
absolutely awful. They can’t all be
winners, obviously, but some I’m pretty pleased with. The bite was the thing. A
later run one was for #badsuperheronames that somehow evolved into
#badcerealnames when I realized I was starting to write something else.
The
Grand Turnip #badsuperheronames
Incredible
Stench #badsuperheronames
Artichoke
Lad #badsuperheronames
Wet
Hair #badsuperheronames
Gingivitus
#badsuperheronames
heat
rash #badsuperheronames
armpit
hamburger #badsuperheronames
Enron
#badsuperheronames
Patio
#badsuperheronames
The
Incredible Pork #badsuperheronames
Gary
Busey #badsuperheronames
Horseradish
#badsuperheronames
Diaper
Baby #badsuperheronames
the
spinning kilt #badsuperheronames
The
Boil #badsuperheronames
Italian
Pete #badsuperheronames
The
Baking Frog #badsuperheronames
Malfeasance
Lad #badsuperheronames
The
Rotting Fish #badsuperheronames
Bat-Genitals
#badsuperheronames
The
Hateful Ukulele #badsuperheronames
Spandex
Tapeworm #badsuperheronames
The
Runnel Man #badsuperheronames
the
surprise motorist #badsuperheronames @nikkireimer
the
athletic support #badsuperheronames @nikkireimer
the
headache #badsuperheronames @nikkireimer
Apple
Nards #badsuperheronames
Cracker
Lacks #badsuperheronames (or are these simply #badcerealnames ?
Gary
Busey #badcerealnames
Animal
Crack #badcerealnames
Stepmother
Puffs #badcerealnames
Daddy-replacement
Flakes #badcerealnames
Beer
Berry #badcerealnames
Acne
Pops #badcerealnames
Leper
Flakes #badcerealnames
Okay, some are a little strange, and
some, even, start getting quite dark (perhaps I was channeling Jon Paul Fiorentino, who was posting some also, as well as Kevin Matthews). Another run
came up from the London Olympics:
triathalon
cursing #RejectedOlympicEvents
downhill
full-body tax evasion #RejectedOlympicEvents
Gary
Busey #RejectedOlympicEvents
cross-country
crying #RejectedOlympicEvents
Skeet
Ulrich shooting #RejectedOlympicEvents
Hand-balling
#RejectedOlympicEvents
old
man fight #RejectedOlympicEvents @TheDailyShow
dinner
#RejectedOlympicEvents
cross-country
bowling #RejectedOlympicEvents
And
then, of course, #MorrisseyOlympics that morphed into #MorrisseyType, when I
realized I’d quickly ran out of Olympic jokes and started writing something
else:
Judo in a Coma
#MorrisseyOlympics
There is a Phelps that
Never Goes Out #MorrisseyOlympics
You Just Haven’t Earned
it Yet, Kellie #MorrisseyOlympics (Women’s 100m hurdles)
Everyday is like Replay
#MorrisseyOlympics
This Charming MacLennan
#MorrisseyOlympics (Trampoline)
That Joke Isn’t Funny
Anymore #MorrisseyOlympics
Podium knows I’m
miserable now #MorrisseyOlympics
Badminton, It Was
Really Nothing #MorrisseyOlympics
The More You Taekwondo,
The Closer I Get #MorrisseyOlympics
Girlfriend in a Comma
#MorrisseyType
The Queen Is Predicate
#MorrisseyType
Boy With A Thorn In His
Prime #MorrisseyType
Meat Is Pronoun
#MorrisseyType
There was an essay
by Don McKay I read some time ago that talked about that “aha” moment in a poem
that was the equivalent of a good joke by a stand-up comedian. In poetry, the
moment where you see something familiar yet turned or twisted becomes “aha,”
and yet, for a stand-up comedian, the moment becomes the punch of the joke.
Just what is the difference? I’ve long wondered why there isn’t more overlap
between poetry and comedy, and those poets who do introduce humour into their
works, whether McGimpsey, Fiorentino, Stuart Ross or Nathaniel G. Moore, have
all talked about how they feel the seriousness of their works dismissed for
that same humour.
What the hell is the
purpose to all of this? Self-amusement, perhaps. Watching Christine roll her
eyes and groan, or even seeing just who out there on twitter responds. I mean,
I half-expect David McGimpsey or Jon Paul Fiorentino to be amused by these (and
they were), but Megan Burns, Kevin Matthews and Jason Christie?
Perhaps, simply
another strange little writing constraint (or, “baffle,” as George Bowering
calls them) to force a particular kind of writing, and to see what might be
possible through the attempt. We write to see what we can come up with next. To
catch that smart, peculiar twist or grand surprise or in what we’ve somehow
written. Isn’t that what we’re all striving for?
And is it wrong that
some of these still crack me up?
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