Friday, March 24, 2006

From Box Turtle Ben’s Novel-In-Progress:


Moby Dick Doby Mick.

Now that he has been kerbooted into the exurbs of Jayson Blairville, word has it that Box Turtle Ben has had to dust off his unfinished opus and hurry things up to fall back on the "controversial author" dodge before people forget his name and he sinks back into the wingnut ooze.

The galley proofs are circulating. Here's a sample...
Chapter 1: “Loomings. Or what I did during my eleven minutes on the WaPo payroll.”

Call me, uh, Pishmael.

Yeah…”Pishmael.”

Anyway…

Some years ago- never mind how long precisely- having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore at Hooters, I thought I would sail blog about a little and see the watery Red State part of the world. It is a way I have of venting driving off the spleen and boosting regulating the circulation.

Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically slandering and insulting African Americans knocking people's hats off -- then, I account it high time to get to sea blogging and plagarizing as soon as I can.

This is my substitute for pistol and ball having no balls.

With a philosophical flourish Cato WaPo throws himself upon his itself upon its sword; I quietly take to the ship noisily take to the paper. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men not-so-closeted-racists in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean brown people with me.

There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes Main Stream Media, belted round by wharves Rightwing Apologists as Indian isles by coral reefs- commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets Right Wing Stenographers take you waterward Raptureward…

So can I please have my sweet, sweet gig at the WaPo now?

Oh, and for those keeping score at home, that’s two (2) “Moby” posts in three days, a phenomenon for which I have no explanation, but on which Box Turtle Ben expounds at great length in the Chapter 42:
“The Whiteness of the Redstate Male.”

10 comments:

greymatters said...

This post is a RIOT!

Thanks for the laugh.

Anonymous said...

xoxox

1988dylan said...

"Silly Mansoul swallowed it without chewing, as if it had been a sprat in the mouth of a whale."
-Pilgrim's Progress

"The sovereignest thing on earth is parmacetti for an inward bruise." - King Henry

Anonymous said...

"The Controversial Authors" WBAGNFARB!

Anonymous said...

Ah, the great white male. I love that story.

JG said...

Dang, you're funny :-D

isabelita said...

Very good! And I don't even mind that you used one of my favorite novels of all times in your endeavor!
Hast seen the White Male? queried Ahab the Aye-rab...

driftglass said...

isabelita,
Thanks. Melville's tough enough to take a little poke from me.

raginggurrl,
Flattery will get you everywhere, darlin' ;-)

greymatters,
Yeah, I lucked out, First with Melville being a genius and all, and second, I had forgotten how well the opening of the novel flows.

An Angry Old Broad said...

I gotta quit reading this blog with a fresh cup of coffee in hand.Or maybe just keep a roll of paper towels on my desk.

I just read somewhere this morning that young Ben even stole from Jonah Goldberg.Now THAT'S funny as hell.

Anonymous said...

Can't wait to get to the chapter where he baptizes his pen in the name of the devil.

parsec

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