Previously, I wrote about the worn out, but necessary, elements for a best-selling crime novel. Now I’m reading an international spy novel. I have no idea why; these things are so predictable.
The hero is always a former CIA, Secret Service, Seal, or Ranger named something horrible like Dirk Logan. As soon as you get to the main character’s name, you think, “Is this porn?”
Of course, the hero is smart, athletic, and can kill you in 20 different ways. You use a coffee filter to make a morning cup of joe, Dirk Logan uses it to navigate an Ebola field and defuse a nuclear bomb attached to the President’s scrotum. Boring.
I want to read this about our protagonist: “Homer Pips was a fat, stupid, lazy piece of shit. When he wasn’t jacking off to discarded Us magazines he snatched from the dumpster behind the local pharmacy, he was mulling around town under the pretense of being a deputy sheriff.
Until today, his greatest law enforcement achievement had been to break up Granger Forest’s still (and that was only because it was competing against his own still). But today, Al Qaeda’s newly minted leader Abdul Mohammed Abdul Mohammed Mohammed…Abdul would decide to pay a visit to quaint little Sim’s Holler, North Carolina.”
And instead of fate throwing the hero together with a supermodel turned research physicist, we should have this: “Myrtle Peacock graduated high school with the coveted title of Most Likely To Make A Man Gay. Many of her classmates described her as “slow,” but mainly she was stupid.
Myrtle was terribly shy and when asked a question, she would inexplicably end her answer by muttering in a high pitched voice that trailed down to a mutter, “Hiba diba fing fing.” It was the strangest thing anyone had ever seen. Her classmates often paid strangers to ask Myrtle questions just to lay witness to Myrtle’s inexplicable Turret’s-like outbursts.
“Hi there. Could you point me to the Sav-a-Lot department store?”
“Uh, uh, sure mister. It’s up Elm Street right past the gas station. Hiiiiba diba fing fing.”
And then Myrtle would give her head a shake and violently clear her throat as if her nonsensical phrase had merely been something in need of dislodging and that it would be all eloquence from here on out. But it never was.
“Do you mean the Shell station or the Exxon?”
“Ahem. I mean the Shell. Hiiiiba diba fing fing.”
Now, those are characters I want to read about. When Homer and Myrtle get to be the heroes, I’ll buy your book.
The Daily Wit 
I think someone named Dirk Logan would be midget spy sent to infiltrate the illicit world of underground clown porn. Dirk Logan: The Dwarf Who Shagged Me And Then Honked My Nose.
A worthy tangent. I’d say we got a plot going here.
Please make this blog into a full blown movie script.
I think Kristen Wiig would be perfect for Myrtle Peacock.
That would be great, hilarious in fact, but let’s face it..if this were to actually become the new Hero/Heroin mold some asshole would decided that it was cool and then everybody will be doing it. It could change humanity as we know it. Those who have strove for betterment will revert into sloth like creatures,giving up on appearances, general hygiene and common sense in hopes of inspiring a writer into featuring them in their next book or directors for the next jacking off packed sequel. The new hot would be repulsive. And then slowly as everyone becomes determined to uglify themselves, one by one we will lose any hope of having something great to jack off to. It’s a vicious cycle that could only lead to a dampened existence.
I love when the comments become a better attraction than the post. Of course, you’re arguing against my becoming a best-selling author/screenplay writer/director. “No, no. On the ‘hiba diba fing fing’ you have to start out at a much higher pitch. C’mon, now, just like we did it at the read through. Ok, and action!”
See how great a director I’d make? And then I’d kick ass on Inside The Actor’s Studio.
Sadly, I can’t deny your incredible directing skills. Looks like I need to stock up on so good pron for our impending doom.
Recently, I ran into my H/S stalker. He was some weird kid that used to ride my bus home and sit in the neighbors yard and stare at my house, make tapes of himself talking to me and get my bitch ass friends to give them to me. Anyway, like I said I ran into him the other day and thought of this post..how awesome would it be if stalkers were non-creepy and hot looking people? I guess then they wouldn’t have to stalk, but damn it would be a lot less scary.
And I forgot to click the follow up notifications, again. So, here’s another comment. yay!
Better to have been stalked than never stalked at all. Except in the case of killer stalkers. Those aren’t good. But, on the other hand, you could end up being the subject of a Lifetime Movie of the Week.
Read the Illegal Spy Novel. My friend just made me read it, and it’s a satiric spy novel with a Homer Pips like spy. Very funny, very dark, but a little bit literary, a little bit wordy. Its all about making fun of the Dirk Logan types, though.
How does one get a copy of the Illegal Spy Novel? The almighty Google reveals no such book.
I found this on Amazon. Not sure if it’s the same one that Oscar was talking about, but it was the only one I could find.
Yeah, so anyway, I’ve been waiting for you to update, but you don’t. You don’t do it, almost to the point as if you won’t. And the latter offends me in unbelievable ways. Where is the daily in all of this wit? Tell me, where it is, because I can’t find it!
Side note: Luckily for you, I was of sane mind to delete out my version of Whitney Houston’s I wanna dance with somebody, in regards to you needing to post.
Harm, I’m letting the tension build. I’m waiting for the crowd to hit a fever pitch.
Or, I’m a slug with nothing funny to say.
Ha! So I was going to prepare something along the lines of AC/DC’s TNT..reading the lyrics (now) and I am dying. “I’m dirty, mean and mighty unclean” and ” I’m a power load” have me in tears!
I would so seriously read that book! And wait breathlessly for each sequel.
We can only hope someone will write it.