What The...? Did You Just Spill Your Milk?

At the risk of giving someone an audience they don't deserve, I feel compelled to comment about the latest wolf in sheep's clothing: A clever money-maker (if only because some will actually think it's funny enough to buy) which may end up creating a whole new genre of adult bedtime picture books.

Now before you get your panties in a wad, arguing that adult bedtime picture books have already been done, I'm not talking about the kind of books with pictures that adults may use at bedtime from time to time. Yes, you are right. Those "self-help" books have been out since shortly after Guttenburg figured out how to mass produce the printed page.

But no. This latest creation is what otherwise would appear to be a children's picture book both on its cover and inside. But that's where the resemblance ends. Instead the book purports to be written for new parents to somehow help them deal with the frustrations of being a parent trying to get their new baby or toddler to sleep. What new parent couldn't identify with that?

No doubt the book will get a few chuckles. Likewise, I have little doubt it will sell, although probably not nearly so well were it not formatted as a children's picture book---kind of a formatting double entendre, if you will. And apparently many of you out there indeed will.

After all, the colorful children's illustrations are simple yet engaging. And what new parent could resist a bedtime story to help lull their little kiddo to sleep? But forgive my lack of excitement. To the author---and to Nightline for running the feature---I say GMAB! (which is now far and away my new favorite texting abbreviation).

For those of you scratching your heads wondering "What the... is he talking about?" I can say that sadly you won't have any trouble searching for or finding the hot new release online. This book has done what most authors can only dream about. It has "gone viral" with so much free promotion (including, I suppose, this blog post) that the author may be able to retire in before Labor Day. After all, it's a #1 best seller on Amazon---maybe even in a couple different categories.

And who knows? It may spawn any number of other books covering such parental challenges as long road trips ("Shut The F--- Up, We're Not There Yet!"), potty training ("Sit The F--- Down And Poop!"), arguing in the car with sibblings ("Don't Make Me Pull The F--- Over!"), food consumption ("Eat Your F---ing Vegetables!") and dinner time accidents ("What The F---? Did You Just Spill Your Milk?").

OK. So, perhaps I'm being unfair. After all, I'm still quivering after last month's sale of four copies of my books online. I suddenly found myself propelled up to a sub-500,000 sales ranking in children's books on Amazon. I gotta admit, having only half a million books ahead of mine in the rankings is pretty heady stuff.

Just think what might have happened if I had added an "F-bomb" (or its abbreviation) to a few of my published titles. The Nightline producers would probably have me on speed dial!

For The "Texting" Challenged Generation(s)

I've been somewhat distracted of late what with school getting out, summer coming on and preparations for the National Scout Jamboree (we're down to under 20 days to departure). But with a few days breathing space in the schedule, I'm getting back to my blog after a month-long absence.

Today's entry is a little something for those of you who may feel challenged by texting and are wondering if there's any hope. For those over age 40 who can figure it out, congratulations. For the rest of you who consider texting some kind of torture that ought to be banned as cruel and unusual punishment, bless your hearts. I'm stuck right in the middle of all of you. My thumbs are too big, my nails are too short and I can't see much of anything on those itty-bitty cell phone screens. But not to worry. An English translation is provided below.

OK. So, I admit to I outwardly professing my intent to one day become a texter. I suppose it could happen. But truth be told, I am secretly waiting for someone to invent a cell phone with a circular dial so I can hear the "skrrridge-tick, tick, tick, tick...." sound of the yesteryear telephone dial coming out of my cell phone.

Realizing the likelihood of that happening any time in the near or distant future is slim to none, I herewith offer this short piece in homage to all those under age sixteen apparently born with texting intuition and thumb nails pre-filed to small points. Remember to show a little sympathy for the rest of us who are happy just to grip our cell phones with what may soon be our vestigial opposable thumbs.

Enjoy...


cllN plnz
by bil krk

my dad bawt me a cel ph.
its realy wA 2 QL.
u wont bleev w@ it cn do—
il shO u aftr skool.

it ltz me d/l muzc;
snd pix, gmes n stuf.
it evn hlps me do my math,
n f thts nt nuf,

It hs a dxNre;
n evry countrys map—
jst ask me whr a rivA s.
il fnd it ina snap!

thers O 1 sml prob—
its nm @ ll.
bt sumday mayB I shd lern
to actuly mak a cll.

wrd count: 86

Translation:

Calling Plans
By Bill Kirk

My Dad bought me a cell phone.
It’s really way too cool.
You won’t believe what it can do—
I’ll show you after school.

It lets me download music;
Send pictures, games and stuff.
It even helps me do my Math,
And if that’s not enough,

It has a dictionary;
And every country’s map—
Just ask me where a river is.
I’ll find it in a snap!

There’s only one small problem—
It’s nothing much at all.
But someday maybe I should learn
To actually make a call.

Word Count: 88