Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Finally, the Internet
Every time I promise to start blogging on a regular basis again, something always pops up to stop me. I think out of my last 7 posts, about 5 of them have comments that say something like "bensaki's back!" Well, this last time was totally not my fault. I really didn't have internet access. But I do now. I'm back again for the fourteenth time, and this time I promise nothing. Nothing but the freak, that is.
Since I recently shared a sample of my vast collection of short stories, I thought now would be a good time to tell you about a related business venture I started some time ago. It's called Bensaki Publishings Thorporation, based in Thorp, WI. In its brief history, Bensaki Publishings Thorporation (BFC) has amassed an illustrious catalog of fiction, non-fiction, and other fiction, except I was lying about the non-fiction part. It's all fiction. Wait, did I say BFC? Sorry, I got it mixed up with Bensocky Fried Chicken.
The first BPT publication to gain a small degree of recognition was The True, Non-Fictional Biography of King Henry VI (not a novel) by Billy Joe Bobbiesuesberg, which was a novel about black holes who learned to speak English from the astronauts who got sucked into them. The newly anglophone black holes came to Earth disguised as salesmen in order to infiltrate the home appliance industry so they could unleash their destructive fury on all the vacuum manufacturers and establish a monopoly on sucking the bejeebus out of everything within a million miles. It's a pretty good premise for a story, but the fun ends way too soon. It turns out no one will hire them to suck the bejeebus out of anything. Bejeebus was in short supply in those days, because the story is set during the Great Depression.
Bobbiesuesberg went on to star in such films as "Hey Look, That Guy is Pointing a Gun at Me, I Think I'll Shoot A Quick Video of Him," "Ow, Holy Crap, Good Thing the Lens Deflected That Bullet," and "Hey Buddy, You Owe Me a New Video Camera."
Bensaki Publishings truly struck gold for the first time with the best-selling novel How to Pronounce My Last Name by Sam Wklpklchtwskrdwbblvoop. The success of this nail-biting epic far outshone that of its follow-up, How to Pronounce My First Name by Sam Wklpklchtwskrdwbblvoop (which was sneakily marketed in some areas as How To Pronounce My First Name by Wklpklchtwskrdwbblvoop, Sam). Many readers were disappointed, until Sam came back with his triumphant third novel, You'll Never Guess What My Middle Name Is by Sam See Title Wklpklchtwskrdwbblvoop. Sam is now living in luxury in whatever perplexing country he's from.
With his two most eminent authors retired from the business, Bensaki (wait, that's me!) took up my pen and started writing his fictional memoirs. I looked for that pen for weeks, and when I found out he had taken it, I pummeled him with pomegranates until I could take it no more and I gave my pen back. This set the writing of the memoirs back a few months while I recovered from his injuries... I mean my injur... we all had injuries. It was a confusing time.
Finally, BFC published Freak Up and Smell the Coffee, a how-to style book that gives an in-depth plan for dreaming up and telling tall tales about your very own imaginary publishing company, just like that fellow Benwhatshisname. If the instructions are followed to the letter, the plan will fail, because the book is deliberately misleading. Just kidding.
In that spirit, feel free to send manuscripts and all manner of condiment packets to Bensaki Thumblishings Corpuscle at this address:
Bensucky Fried Chicken Thorporation
1/2 Dumpling Rd.
Thorp, WI 5something something something something
Have a day.
Every time I promise to start blogging on a regular basis again, something always pops up to stop me. I think out of my last 7 posts, about 5 of them have comments that say something like "bensaki's back!" Well, this last time was totally not my fault. I really didn't have internet access. But I do now. I'm back again for the fourteenth time, and this time I promise nothing. Nothing but the freak, that is.
Since I recently shared a sample of my vast collection of short stories, I thought now would be a good time to tell you about a related business venture I started some time ago. It's called Bensaki Publishings Thorporation, based in Thorp, WI. In its brief history, Bensaki Publishings Thorporation (BFC) has amassed an illustrious catalog of fiction, non-fiction, and other fiction, except I was lying about the non-fiction part. It's all fiction. Wait, did I say BFC? Sorry, I got it mixed up with Bensocky Fried Chicken.
The first BPT publication to gain a small degree of recognition was The True, Non-Fictional Biography of King Henry VI (not a novel) by Billy Joe Bobbiesuesberg, which was a novel about black holes who learned to speak English from the astronauts who got sucked into them. The newly anglophone black holes came to Earth disguised as salesmen in order to infiltrate the home appliance industry so they could unleash their destructive fury on all the vacuum manufacturers and establish a monopoly on sucking the bejeebus out of everything within a million miles. It's a pretty good premise for a story, but the fun ends way too soon. It turns out no one will hire them to suck the bejeebus out of anything. Bejeebus was in short supply in those days, because the story is set during the Great Depression.
Bobbiesuesberg went on to star in such films as "Hey Look, That Guy is Pointing a Gun at Me, I Think I'll Shoot A Quick Video of Him," "Ow, Holy Crap, Good Thing the Lens Deflected That Bullet," and "Hey Buddy, You Owe Me a New Video Camera."
Bensaki Publishings truly struck gold for the first time with the best-selling novel How to Pronounce My Last Name by Sam Wklpklchtwskrdwbblvoop. The success of this nail-biting epic far outshone that of its follow-up, How to Pronounce My First Name by Sam Wklpklchtwskrdwbblvoop (which was sneakily marketed in some areas as How To Pronounce My First Name by Wklpklchtwskrdwbblvoop, Sam). Many readers were disappointed, until Sam came back with his triumphant third novel, You'll Never Guess What My Middle Name Is by Sam See Title Wklpklchtwskrdwbblvoop. Sam is now living in luxury in whatever perplexing country he's from.
With his two most eminent authors retired from the business, Bensaki (wait, that's me!) took up my pen and started writing his fictional memoirs. I looked for that pen for weeks, and when I found out he had taken it, I pummeled him with pomegranates until I could take it no more and I gave my pen back. This set the writing of the memoirs back a few months while I recovered from his injuries... I mean my injur... we all had injuries. It was a confusing time.
Finally, BFC published Freak Up and Smell the Coffee, a how-to style book that gives an in-depth plan for dreaming up and telling tall tales about your very own imaginary publishing company, just like that fellow Benwhatshisname. If the instructions are followed to the letter, the plan will fail, because the book is deliberately misleading. Just kidding.
In that spirit, feel free to send manuscripts and all manner of condiment packets to Bensaki Thumblishings Corpuscle at this address:
Bensucky Fried Chicken Thorporation
1/2 Dumpling Rd.
Thorp, WI 5something something something something
Have a day.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
O. Henry-style
Here's a short story I wrote.
Once upon a time I didn't have the internet at my house anymore because some people were using our computer to call small European republics. In a fit of rage, I had to wait until my parents got the computer debugged or bought a new one. With flying fists of fury, I sat at home not updating my blog. Then I used my dad's computer at work to write a short story.
The end.
Call me at my house if you know the number. If you don't, look it up. If you don't know what my name is or where i live, you'll have to not call me. Have a freaky week(s).
Here's a short story I wrote.
Once upon a time I didn't have the internet at my house anymore because some people were using our computer to call small European republics. In a fit of rage, I had to wait until my parents got the computer debugged or bought a new one. With flying fists of fury, I sat at home not updating my blog. Then I used my dad's computer at work to write a short story.
The end.
Call me at my house if you know the number. If you don't, look it up. If you don't know what my name is or where i live, you'll have to not call me. Have a freaky week(s).
