(the making of) Waiting for Karl Rove

Who’d have thought a bunch of crazy e-mails would turn into a book?

Surely not I.

Okay, I lied. It was all a part of my Sixteen Step Master Plan to Take Over the Universe…(along with Kat Nove, my sidekick).

Here we are, about to publish Waiting for Karl Rove (already available on Smashwords and soon to be available on Amazon.com for Kindle) and I decided to take a trip down memory lane and fondly remember how it all started…

(I will say, preparing manuscripts for e-book format is a slow, painful walk through hell and whoever invented the process should get a pick-axe through the temporal lobe. There’s simply got to be an easier, more effective way to get something to print on an e-reader and STILL not screw the formatting six ways from Sunday if you make any of a number of tiny errors. Seriously - Bill Gates, get right on that, will ya?)

The whole thing started when a writer friend told Kat and I we’d be perfect co-writers. So, first we thought about something like “My Day Sucked Bigger Balls Than Yours Because…” and then we’d just compile our saved e-mails and have ourselves a bestseller.

At some point, however, we decided an actual plot might be nice. Sometime later I said, “Hey, what about if we write ourselves into the story - and it’s a road trip book about a menopausal woman and her erratic sidekick who are on a mission to wrestle an apology from Karl Rove by any means necessary?”

Kat sent an e-mail that went something like this:

LMFAO AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH

And, we were off...

JENI: Holy *bleep*-a-Doodle!

That's a lot of e-mails. If even a third of them are remotely interesting, we've already written a book. Well, that's assuming anyone else finds us even half as funny as we do each other. But let’s not use any that make me sound stupid... or fat. I want people to think I'm sublimely intelligent and wasting away at 99 pounds--until we end up on David Letterman.

Oh, screw it. We’ll use it all. ;) On to greatness - or infamy, whichever comes first

KAT: Hmmm...I wonder which agent will call me first as I'm being interviewed by Wolf Blitzer.

"Well, Wolfie...may I call you Wolfie? I always knew she was a total nutjob because anyone with access to that many dildos and boob lifters has to have access to guns, right? So the truth is, when she demanded I write Waiting For Karl Rove with her, I was too scared not to. Is Blitzer a Nazi name?"

Then I’ll stop in and see Geraldo…

“Nice to meet you Geraldo. So this is the Fox News Studio? Frankly, I thought it would smell much worse in here. So kind of you to interview me after Jeni Decker's treatment of you in WFKR - which, by the way, was NOT my idea. I can tell you the exact day she snapped if you're interested in the truth. You are? Hmmm...surprising. It was the day she gave Rick Sanchez the Geraldo treatment via song parody. Yeah, it drove her bat-shit crazy. Uh...I can't say batshit on Fox News? You're kidding right? I assumed bat-shit was okay, what with the two most obscene words in the English language having their own show. Snap, Geraldo. I thought you'd get the joke seeing as how Puerto Ricans usually have a better sense of humor than old white people. The two most obscene words are (drum roll) Glenn Beck. Now, let's talk about me.”

Oh, and Jeni - screw Letterman…I'm shooting for The Daily Show. I'd ignore my menopausal tendencies to sit next to short little Jon Stewart and fantasize about his circumcised Jewish penis. I'm certain it must be massive. Har!

JENI: While I, myself, don't care to ponder the length and or girth of Jon Stewart's penis, circumcised or otherwise, I'd be happy to genuflect before his greatness, with you by my side. Are you saving all this, because if you're counting on me to do it, your screwed. It's bad enough I'm having to spell check things before clicking send.

KAT:

TO OUR READERS : Jeni is referring to compiling a book from our unorganized e-mails. Thank you for your attention and for your money.

Kat Nove

JENI: We accept checks, money orders, and the occasional bartering agreement, in the form of sex. ;) Expect to be de-loused prior to engagement, and it's probably advisable to BYOB.

KAT: Do to my current menopausal state, Jeni will be providing the sex, unless your check or money order is taped to Jon Stewart's circumcised penis, in which case I'll suck it right off and deposit it into my bank account.

JENI: Sure, sure. Leave me the dirty work. Ah, well. I suppose it'll be my penance for blatantly riding your pantyhose to literary success. Though that shouldn't surprise you. I have no issue exploiting the two autistic children I squeezed out of my uterus for literary benefit, so why should you be any different?

KAT: You idiot! I'm riding your coattails. And now I'm walking over to the skateboard park to find the skater who said he'd buy a copy of Global Swarming. That *bleep*er better be there with the cash, I need a pack of cigs.

JENI: Well, that's just dandy. Looks like we've got the menopausal leading the morbidly obese. Look out world, here we come.

KAT: Uh, I had to pee before I went to shake down the skater dude and made the mistake of looking at your emails again! Okay, now I'm off to a drug...I mean book deal.

JENI: BTW, Mitch thinks a better title for Engulfed would be: Where's My *Bleep*ing Bliss? Do you think dropping the f-bomb in the title would put agents off?

KAT: I guarantee they would make you change it to Where's My Freaking Bliss? I like your original title better, but that's probably because David Sedaris and I are such good friends. Oh! And when you respond, maybe you should reply using what you're responding to. That way we won't have to try to figure it out later.

JENI: Oh! so already you want me to make your life easier? What's next? Shall I draw you a bath? You're SO going to hate me before this is all over. And, where is the world heading that a writer can't use the word *bleep* at their leisure? I'm not sure I want to be a part of that world... Oh, yeah. How is Mr. Sedaris, anyway? Let him know I'm gunning for him - though I could be persuaded to cease and desist all future writing endeavors if he and Hugh found it in their hearts to adopt me. I think I'd have turned out better, all things considered, if a gay couple had been my parents.

KAT: Draw me a bath? Har! Quit imagining me naked, you pervert. Besides, in my world, bathtubs are not safe for baths. It's showers only, baby. Otherwise something worse than a yeast infection would be crawling up my who-ha.

JENI: I'm sorry, my dear, but being that it's almost 2010 and a free country (at least until the Republicans crawl back into power) I am free to imagine anyone I wish naked. Don't get all excited - there's quite a list in front of you, including but not limited to Rachel Maddow, Andre Braugher, Hugh Laurie, Suzanne Malveaux (CNN) and Newt Gingrich... (that last one, merely as a curiosity under the sneaking suspicion that something's gone horribly awry there, physically, and I'd like to get to the bottom of it...) And, clearly you're under the mistaken assumption that I'm not 'stoo-pid' as Mitch says...

KAT: Seeing Newt Gingrich falls under my 100 million tax free dollars umbrella, wherein for said amount I'll have sex with anyone on the planet of legal age, regardless of gender, religion and/or political party affiliation as long as most of them are gagged with duct tape, hosed down with disinfectant, the lights are off and nobody ever informs me I just *bleep*ed Ann Coulter.

Months later…

KAT: Last night I went to a college production of The Foreigner and laughed my fat ass off, which is a good thing because the cheap-ass seats in that dinky theatre are like sitting on a turned-on chainsaw (and I don't mean a chainsaw that is so aroused by my asshole that it wants to return the favor) I mean a chainsaw that wants to rip out my asshole, make me eat it and then rip it out again. Then I came home to a paranoid Richard who has finally snapped that I'm writing down his every word and sending it to you. He told me to tell you he'd like to apologize for his inappropriate remarks. More later on his idea to start a gang (as in Bloods and Crips) of pink-curler wearing, rubber dishwashing glove prancers.

So, where are we at on the next WFKR chapter? What am I supposed to be writing next? Help me get the order straight. We go to casino and we're wearing our Mardi Gras masks. We start riot and Conga line and run out being chased by security. Right?

JENI: Yes, that's your part. You can end inside wherever we are and do your usual RUN line because mine takes up with us actually running down the street.

KAT: You take it up and we crash a wedding and we're both super drunk.

JENI: Yes, mine takes us running down the street, going into the wedding, and ends with us walking down the strip leaving the bride and groom…then a bunch of shit happens while we're drunk that we don't remember. I thought it might be good for the next book to leave some stuff purposely open so that if we need anything to 'come back to haunt us' we can use that as a tie in. LOL I cover it briefly in the FBI interview - but that part of the document is REDACTED.

KAT: Then I wake up with black Elvis. We do some shit and end up at the fund raiser wearing masks. Did we decide who wears which mask (Palin/Cheney) ? Because whoever is wearing Dick Cheney's needs to be exposing some hellacious cleavage.

JENI: Entirely up to you. You're choice. Do you wanna be the Dick or the Bitch? LOL Take care to time your 'day' so that we end up in the bathroom at 7:02 PM. I figure Karl's speech could be around six or so in the evening.

KAT: How do I need to end that chapter? Being chased out by security again? Or one of us needing to pee and we hide in the men's restroom?

JENI: Mine starts with us sitting on the toilets, Geraldo comes in after that. You have to get us there or at least establish a chase because somehow we heard Rove was heading to the toilet (does he have handlers or security that we could overhear but get the message wrong--go to the wrong bathroom?) and we assumed that's where he was going.

BTW, which hotel is this that we're in the bathroom of? I assume whatever one the speech is in.

KAT: Let's have that scene in the Parisian. Probably some good jokes to be made about Freedom Fries and how ironic it is since Republicans hate the French. And I'll have us leaving in a hurry, but not writing about getting there. I think it's funnier to have us sitting on the toilets.

Oh. My. God! Did you hear that Cheney is in the hospital again? Be just like that *bleep*er to die and *bleep* up our book. Of course if he does kick it, we can substitute all his parts with someone else equally vile.

I'm Tired of America

I think I watch too much ‘news’. I feel guilty if I don’t try and keep up with what’s going on in the world around me - specifically the United States and what we’re doing, what we’re not doing, what we should be doing but can’t muster up the balls to do - and yet, I feel this gnawing sense of dread when I do.

I know that I’m tired of America, but I don’t want to lose faith in Americans. If we are to believe everything we watch in the national media, you’d think we as a society are a festering pustule bent on infecting those around us; we’re a sociological version of the swine-flu and we’re catching.

I refuse to believe that. I have neighbors, good ole’ beer-swilling boys with tractors who would be the first to stop and pull you out of a ditch if you slid off the road in a snow storm. Lovely men and women who are compassionate and kind to one another in their dealings. People who have hope for the future.

But I’m not seeing so much of that on television news coverage so I’m starting to have my doubts.

I’m seeing political rallies and campaign ads where the signs and sound bytes have crossed from rude to racist; violent and incendiary. I’m seeing talking bobble-heads on every news program who seem to think they know what’s best for me and my family and are bound and determined to make sure we get it, whether we like it or not - via less than meaningful reporting and the hawking of blatant lies.

I’m seeing people who should know better pervert the Constitution in a way that suggests if they don’t like how things are going, it’s perfectly appropriate for them to pull out their guns and bust a cap in the ass of anyone who disagrees with them. (Second amendment remedies for those of you who don’t watch the news channels with morbid fascination like I do.)

I’m seeing senators and representatives who treat their jobs like a political chess game with no thought for how their partisan wrangling and manipulation is going to pull a country that’s already teetering on a precipice into a vast chasm from which we will not be able to escape.

I’m tired of newly elected politicians saying ‘America has spoken’, even though it’s abundantly clear they think we’ve said something we haven’t. Just because people overwhelmingly said ‘no’ to one thing, doesn’t mean that gives policy maker’s carte blanche to tick a little ‘X’ in the YES box next to everything on their own agenda - not to mention propagandize everything the other side says to the point of absurdity.

No, I do not think the rich need tax cuts, because of some sort of misguided assumption that certain people espouse, which presumes jobs will miraculously trickle down like powdered sugar on the doughnut that is America. That’s just not going to happen. How do I know that? Because small and large businesses have tightened their belts and happily learned how to work with less manpower since the rise in unemployment. If consumers aren't consuming, there isn't the demand there once was. So until such time as the demand rises, I don't see businesses taking that kind of risk - and if they do take that gamble, I'd be concerned about the viability of that business. To me, it's common sense.

To politicians, not so much.

We’re in an altogether different economic time than we’ve ever had to endure and it’s hard to cure all that ails us when there are powerful forces bent on heading backwards and hoping it’ll all come out in the wash, simply because they don’t have any practical solutions.

We might as well consult the Magic 8-Ball* at this point because I’m not seeing much in the way of real and lasting solutions that will ever come out of a congress bent on logjam.

*ANSWER: Outlook not so good

I find myself wondering how Obama’s message of HOPE and CHANGE suddenly translated into: I WILL FIX EVERYTHING IN TWO YEARS AND WE'LL ALL BE DANCING IN THE FUCKING STREETS. FREE McRIBS FOR EVERYONE!!!

When did he promise that? And how, pray tell, did we come to the untenable conclusion that it would only take twenty-four months to clean up the steaming pile of guano that was left in the Presidential inbox by the last Oval Office tenants? I’m here to tell you - as someone with a vast knowledge of everything scat related - it takes a butt-load of disinfectant to clean that kind of mess up.

Is it just me, or have we become an impatient and unforgiving lot, incapable of understanding that not everything is drive-thru ready? That we’re going to have to dig our heels in for the long haul - that life is not Twitter, where you can tickle out 140 characters and move on to the next topic. Where our future health, security and well-being aren’t instant gratification kinds of things. There is a lot of heavy-lifting, compromise and fixing to do in America. It’s not going to happen overnight and we should understand that, but it’s not going to happen at all unless we start listening to one another, instead of SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF OUR LUNGS, trying to shut down the debate coming from the other side.

I wish everyone would just simmer down and listen for a minute so that, perhaps, clearer heads can prevail. As a famous song says… you can’t always get what you want…but you get what you need…

What I’m really afraid of, though, is that we’re not only not going to get what we want, but we’re not even going to get what we need. Particularly our children; the beneficiaries of the mess we’ve all created. And make no mistake - we’re all guilty. We’ve all participated in one way or the other.

The state of our Union doesn’t exist in a vacuum. So while the greedy banks, mismanaged car companies, shady, self-involved politicians and partisan media have all done their fair share of fucking up, we’re not exactly blameless. The fabric of our collective society is sewn with many individual threads. Each thread represents one of us and when one thread weakens or breaks, a hole forms. A hole can cause a tear.

From my perspective, Old Glory’s in need of some mending.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m as guilty as anyone. So let me proffer a supposition, and you can assume the following applies to the ‘royal you’:

If you didn’t get out and vote and instead chose to sit and yell at the TV on election night - if you took out a loan you knew was not within your means or charged those credit cards up to the hilt - if you said things like nig—(insert racial slur here) or fa—(insert homophobic word rhyming with maggot here) in front of your kids, or even subtly disregarded who someone else is, all out of misguided fear and/or ignorance, allowing the hatemongering to spread like an insidious disease - if you’re happy to blog, Twitter or Blackberry your life away, or watch hours of reality television instead of helping your kid with his homework (or reading to him) because his school is severely under-funded and he’s not getting the attention he needs, but you justify not taking that extra hour with him because you’re just too tired and, anyway, that’s his teacher’s job (and she should be happy to have one in this economy) - if you think those people over there on unemployment are just lazy and don’t want to work - if you think your religion is THE religion - if you think because you make a certain amount of money and have health care, but that other guy, over there shouldn’t get quality medical attention because he can’t pay for it—

…if you did or said anything causing that little voice in your head to whisper in your ear, you might be contributing, however little, to the huge mess we’re in now.

If you are one of those few people who doesn’t have that little inner-voice, well then you’re just a sociopath and probably beyond help. But, if you’re the average American who can’t plead insanity in a court of law, and find it easier to blame the person who has a different outlook on things, so be it. But I’m here to tell you we’re ALL to blame. You can take that to the bank. (Just don’t try to get a loan because you’re screwed in that regard.)

We’re all either actively doing it or doing it by default, because every day, in every way, if we’re not part of the solution, we’re part of the problem. We’re all to blame. Except our kids. They’re not to blame…yet. But one day, they will be. They’ll be the ones making the choices and decisions based on how we taught them - and the way it’s looking right now, it won’t be long before they’ll be looking for someone to blame.

One guess as to who they’ll be looking at.

When future generations don’t have those things called Medicare and Medicaid because they’re effectively non-existent - and when we’re ninety and find ourselves homeless because the well of Social Security has run dry - who will we look to then?

Who will we blame?

I suppose it will be easy enough to rely on tried-and-true habits; to blame it on the media or politicians or the guy down the block who doesn’t agree with us. But in the end, it won’t matter who we blame because it won’t change reality - we’re giving our kids the shaft and we’re doing it blatantly and knowingly and there is absolutely no excuse.

Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe I need a Xanax…or five.

I have to believe America's better than how we appear in High-Definition TV - or I might as well not even bother to get out of bed in the morning. Maybe I’m wrong. God help me if I am. God help us all.

God. Yeah, that’s a topic for another day, so I’ll leave you with a little video. Feel free to address all hate mail to Jeni. There’s even a convenient little clickable e-mail link at the top of the page.

God Bless America…or something like that.

Hit the Road, Rick. And Don’t Come Back No More, No More…

There I was with Monday’s blog about my hemorrhoids primed and ready, set up on auto-schedule to post itself at 8:am.

But, then it happened:

Late Friday afternoon Rick Sanchez shoved his oversized loafer into his babbling maw for the last time on CNN. Adios, Rick. The Cubano has left the building.

It’s a shame, really. I watched Rick’s List occasionally— okay, watched might be playing it fast and loose with the word. Often my TV was tuned in to CNN while his show was on. As I tended to a myriad of chores around the house, I was able to listen in and wait for his next gaffe. He was entertaining, our Mr. Sanchez. Kind of like the bumbling uncle we all have - not the alcoholic one, or the one that’s a bit too grabby-hands. I’m talking about the affable one prone to inadvertently tossing in a malapropism or two while telling you an inappropriate story, usually involving a fart or boob joke.

So now Uncle Sanchez is no longer with us. I am sad to see him go - but seriously, it’s not like this is the first time he’s said something that either made me cringe or do a double take, causing me to turn toward the television with a duster in one hand and a pile of dirty laundry in the other.

Remember that ‘he’s the cotton pickin’President!’ thing? Yeah, classy. I had a feeling he'd been waiting a long time to work that one in, but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and presume it was a slip of the tongue.

How about the time he had a bit of trouble locating Hawaii on the large studio map? That was painful to watch.

And let's not forget the stun gun incident. Really, Rick? You did that of your own volition AND thought there was even the remotest of possibilities Jon Stewart, Colbert and the rest of the mainstream media WOULDN’T play it on a loop for the better part of a week?

Even my nine year old autistic kid who’s barely verbal probably saw that one coming.

Rick, it’s kind of hard to feel sorry for someone who went on live radio and basically bent over and shat on the hand that signs his paycheck. Thinking those kinds of things - well that’s one thing. Saying them aloud - that’s your one way ticket to tool-ville, my friend, where you’ll be walking the buffet-line of shame along with the likes of the Huckabees, Becks and Limbaughs of the world.

One good thing came out of this whole mess, Rick. At least it happened late on Friday afternoon. You didn’t have to wake up the next morning to every media outlet splashing your face all over the screen while you tried to get your morning java down. No, you had a couple of days to hide out and lick your wounds before this kind of stuff started -

(behold, my song parody. Yes, that is my voice. I've got a cold. Don't judge me. PS: The blog about my hemorrhoids will be up tomorrow.)