MOVING DAY!

That's right, I'm moving. But don't cry; you can still visit me. Bazooko's Circus has been moved over to my all-new personal site www.adamjwhitlatch.com. And to celebrate this move, I'm holding a contest over the next 24 hours.  I won't be posting at this URL ever again, so update your bookmarks and head on over to the new site to see how you can win a free ebook. 

Bye bye, Blogger.  THNKS FR TH MMRS

I'm scared, Dave. Will I dream?

Oh, shut up and die already!

Sledding 101

Logan demonstrates proper sledding procedure, while his brother, Zavier, demonstrates how NOT to go downhill on a saucer sled.

Don't Listen To Assholes. Write.

Yesterday a repairman came to look at our refrigerator's ice maker, and I instantly disliked the guy. Ever meet a know-it-all and you can just tell from the first time they open their mouth? Yup, that was this guy. Anyway, the guy told us that the problem was the saddle valve where the fridge's water line hooks into the pipe downstairs. Apparently self-piercing valves are a no-no. Well, guess what -- That's all anybody sells. Even this dipshit didn't carry the valve he claimed we needed. I finally determined that the valve we have is defective and decided to replace it with another of the same type when I get a chance, which should be this weekend.

But that's not what I wanted to rant about. While we called every hardware store in the county looking for this non-existent saddle valve, I was flipping through the phone book and had trouble finding what I was looking for. Ever momentarily forget the alphabet when you're looking for something in a phone book? Sure. Happens to everybody. So then we have the following exchange:

Jess: Problems, honey?

Me: (mumbling) Not as soon as I learn my ABCs.

Jess: And what are you going to school for again?

Me: (laughing) Shhh! He doesn't need to know I'm an English major.

Repairman: So was I. Look where it got me.

Let's get something on the table right now. An English degree is essentially worthless. They might as well print it on a slice of bread so you'll have something to eat while you're waiting in the unemployment line. The only English degree worth a damn is a teaching degree, which is what I happen to be going for. I explained this to the gentleman and also explained that I'm a writer. Now we get to the part where my blood began to boil:

Repairman: Might as well give that up. My son's been at that for eleven years and nothing's come of it.

My wife admirably came to my defense and mentioned that I am published. I kept a civil tongue with the man and acknowledged that publishing is a lot like playing the lottery. And it is, honestly. A lot of it is your manuscript in the right hands at just the right time. And in many cases it is who you know. Sad, but true. He agreed and the subject eventually returned to the fridge.

It always irks me when people talk down to writers or about the profession of writing. Did he offend me personally? No, not really. I'm secure enough with my own (modest) successes not to let negativity get to me. Did he know what he was talking about? Sure, to a point. But just because his kid can't make it and he wound up a refrigerator repairman doesn't mean I'll suffer the same fate. Unlike the majority of young/new writers, I've learned from my mistakes and I know how to roll with the punches. If we all gave up when the going got tough then we wouldn't have any literature. If this defeatist (not to mention know-it-all) attitude is hereditary then I might have a good idea of why his son isn't on the New York Times Bestseller List.

Publishing is about two things: Persistence and adaptation. You have to be absolutely relentless. Submit. Submit. Submit! And when you get a response, listen to what they have to say. By all means get angry, but just don't get bitter. Turn your anger into fuel, and say "I'll show them." Don't say "What do they know?" You know what they know? A lot.

Take criticism with a grain of salt, but always look for the nugget of truth. You know what the best thing was for my E.R.A. manuscript? A rejection. An editor who also happens to be a friend of mine rejected it and told me the first chapter was boring. She was right. It was exactly what I needed to hear, so I went back and fixed it. It's a hundred times better now. Then there was another piece of advice she gave that I initially scoffed at, but over time the suggestion smoldered inside my brain until a candle flame ignited and I had an idea. I took the suggestion, tinkered with it, and wound up with an all-new opening chapter that brings the rest of the novel together exquisitely.

Yes, it is your vision, but sometimes you look at it with blinders on and can't see the bigger picture. Even if you take someone else's advice, it's still your words, your voice, and your book. After your sixth or seventh rewrite, rewrite it an eighth time just for good measure. Believe me when I say it's worth your time and effort. NO manuscript is ready for submission on the first, or even the second, draft. (More on this in a future post.)

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go sit with Scott and watch the pretty snow falling outside my office window.

Oh, Hanukkah Hedge... Oh, Season Shrub...

There's a little news item floating around Facebook about the controversy surrounding the White House referring to Christmas trees as "holiday trees." The story then goes on a Christian rant, blaming taking God out of our schools for the world's problems. Now that's a bunch of bullpucky. We human beings create our own problems, and we don't need God to bail us out. I still count myself as a Christian, though non-practicing, but lately in my studies I've accumulated a heaping pile of doubt, which I find to be healthy. Blind faith doesn't help anybody. Frankly, folks, the "facts" just don't add up. If you want my honest opinion, we Christians and Jews have been lied to for thousands of years. There, I said it.

But that's not what I'm ranting about today. Let's get back to the Christmas trees. This systematic sanitizing of Christmas over the past few years has really gotten on my nerves. I don't know any Jews that get offended by Christmas Trees, nor do I know any (real) Christians that are bothered by Menorahs. I have Pagan friends that put up Christmas trees, and why not? The damn holiday was stolen from them in the first place. Let's be honest.

Last time I checked, this country was founded on the concept of freedom from religious persecution. So why is that the Atheists seem to be running the show these days and persecuting anybody that believes in the invisible man in the sky? I have the right to believe in whatever cockamamie fairy tale I want, just as you have the right to believe in... well... nothing. So you leave my Christmas tree alone and I'll leave your... well, fuck off. If you ask me, Atheists are the biggest zealots of all.

I used to hate the phrase "Happy Holidays," seeing it as politically correct nonsense to satisfy the butthurt advocates and Atheists. But lately I've come to embrace it as a great symbol of tolerance. Happy Holidays is a simple way to say, "I respect you all and wish you all an equally happy holiday season." We really all can celebrate side by side without stepping on each others' toes. All we have to do is put down the picket signs for a few weeks and TRY. I have a Jewish friend that I tell "Merry Christmas" and it doesn't offend him. He smiles and tells me "Happy Hanukkah" in return, and it doesn't offend me. It shows that we all belong to the same family... humanity.

But let's make something clear, folks, I do NOT condone sanitizing one group's holiday for the sake of others'. It is a Christmas tree. Say it with me... CHR-IST-MAS -TR-EE. That's right! Christmas tree. Not Hanukkah Hedge. Not Kwanzaa Bush. Not Season Shrub. It's a fucking Christmas tree. Now get over it and get back to that whole peace on earth and goodwill toward men thing that the whole season's all about.

And while you're at it, pass the egg nog.

Remember, Remember...

Remember, remember the fifth of November,
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot,
I know of no reason
Why the Gunpowder Treason,
Should ever be forgot.

"People should not be afraid of their governments. Governments should be afraid of their people."
- V, V for Vendetta

Braaaaaaaaaaains

Today was Keokuk's first Zombie Walk down at the mall. Zavier was the only one of us that participated because by the time we got his makeup done it was time to go. That and Logan didn't want any makeup and was a little afraid to go. But once we got there he wished he'd let us make him a zombie, too. So he's looking forward to next year.

Zavier was pretty proud of both his makeup and his walk (see the video above), but his favorite part of the whole thing was the zombie bite I made on his arm.

Does this look infected to you?

Zavier didn't win any of the prizes, but his walk DID get a lot of praise from the audience. Overall, he had a lot of fun and even though the makeup itched after a while, I think he enjoyed the whole process. Maybe this will give him ideas for Halloween next week.

Happy Sixth Birthday, Logan!

Wow, has it really been six years already? It seems like only yesterday he was in diapers. No, wait... that was Scott. I'm sorry. The cold medicine must be affecting me more than I thought.

Tonight we'll be celebrating with pizza and Angry Birds cupcakes. He picked them out. We tried to talk him into a cake, but he insisted on the cupcakes, so that's what he got.

Happy birthday, Logan.

Out of Context #29

Overheard during a late-night Skype session with KHP editor Jerrod Balzer:

Jerrod: Arrr! Show me yer booty!
Adam: Only if ye shiver me timbers!

Westboro Batshit Church Announces "Steve Jobs is God!"

In their infinite wisdom, the Westboro Batshit Church has once again enlightened us, this time it regards God's secret identity. God is none other than... STEVE JOBS!

Holy dog shit! Really!?

Yes, really. According to Margie Phelps' Twitter feed (in response to the image below), the iPhone was invented by God himself:

Holy shit! It's true! Steve Jobs is God! I knew it!

Steve Jobs, 1955-2011

By now the rest of the net has already beaten this story like a dead horse and there really isn't the need for another blog post mourning Steve Jobs, but I'm going to anyway.

When it was announced that Jobs was stepping down as CEO, I really didn't think much of it. I thought we were still going to be seeing a lot of Steve Jobs, but I had no idea of his health problems. I just don't follow that kind of thing, having better ways to spend my time than worry about what celebrity has cancer or what-have-you.

But the sudden announcement of Jobs' death last night actually saddened me. I was sitting on the couch with my wife watching TV and checking email on the iPad when I saw the announcement on Geeks of Doom. How fitting that I should learn about Jobs' death on a device that he ushered in.

Though I've used PCs for the past thirteen years or so, I grew up in an Apple household. When I was little we owned an Apple IIe. You remember those, right? Black screen and green text? Oh, I played many an hour of Oregon Trail and Space Invaders on that puppy. I remember typing out reports for school when the rest of my classmates were still writing them out by hand. The average household just didn't have a computer back then. They weren't the sources of entertainment and information they are today. The old beast still runs, too. It lives in my parents' basement, though I don't think they've fired it up in a couple years.

After that it was various Mac models, including the very first Mac laptop that my dad used for work. We ran Macs up until System 7 and then, for whatever reason, we changed to Windows 95. I don't know why we did it, and I remember absolutely hating Windows. I had no idea what I was doing and I wanted Mac OS 8, dammit.

When I moved out and got my own computer for my apartment, I couldn't afford a Mac, so I got a Windows 98 machine. After that, I guess, it was just downhill. I haven't touched a Mac since I borrowed my dad's Macbook in 2005 to upload pictures of Logan when he was born. And I was utterly lost. I had to reacquaint myself with how to use the thing, having fallen prey to the Cult of Gates.

Three years ago I bought my first piece of Apple hardware: a used second generation 4GB iPod Nano. This was my first MP3 player and I wasn't sure I would like it, but I took to it instantly. The following Christmas, my wife bought me a 120GB iPod Classic, which I still use to this day. My entire collection of music, audiobooks, and old time radio episodes are loaded onto this beast and it is ALWAYS in my pocket when I leave the house. I don't go anywhere without it, even outside in the yard. We now have four iPods in our house: my Classic, Jess and Zavier's 16GB Nanos, and my original 4GB Nano which now belongs to Logan.

Let's go back to the Windows issue for a second. I HATE Windows. I hate it with a passion. It's a glitchy, disobedient little bitch. And how many Windows machines from ten (or even five in some cases) years ago are still running? Not too fucking many. Meanwhile, my old Apple IIe is still chugging away in my parents' basement. I want an Apple machine. I want to take Justin Long's advice and switch back to Mac. The problem is I can't afford the price tag at the moment.

Well, last year I got the chance to dip my toes into Apple's pool and test the water. I bought an iPad. And it was the best investment I've made in years! On the very first day it proved its worth by allowing me to submit my homework while I struggled to repair my crippled PC with Norton Utilities. That put the arguments of all the naysayers to rest. That clenched it for me. As soon as I can scrape together the cash, I'm kicking my Acer to the curb and buying myself a Mac. I'm leaving the Cult of Gates and rejoining the Cult of the Turtleneck.

Now flame me all you want. I'm not a techie and don't know the first thing about hardware. What I know is what I can see. And what I see is a basement full of old Apple computers still humming away, even though they've been outmoded into oblivion, and a Windows machine that acts like Hal 9000 every time I want to open a fucking Word document and listen to Metallica at the same time.

I'm sorry, Dave. I'm afraid I can't do that.

I'm not Dave, you pile of convoluted scrap!

Now, back to Steve Jobs. As I lay in bed last night, working on my latest novel on the iPad while listening to Blackmore's Night on my iPod, I sent a silent 'thank you' to Steve, where ever he may be. He honestly made my life better, albeit in a small way, but it really is the little things that count.

Goodbye, Steve. You will be missed.