Well, dear readers, I have received the first (hopefully not the last) blurb for the dust jacket of my very own novel. Yes, you heard it here, dear readers, I, bk, have received the first blurb. Isn’t that exciting? I’ve never received a blurb before. Somehow, heretofore, blurbs have eluded me. No blurb has come my way. No blurb had ever good newsed me. Blurbs had been in absentia, out of sight, not in evidence. I was sans blurbs and I felt empty inside, somehow, I felt blurbless in Studio City. But now I have my very own blurb and I now feel complete, blurb-wise. Isn’t blurb a strange word? It was invented by Samuel X. Blurb. A long time ago, someone had written a book and they wanted their best friend, Samuel X. Blurb to say something nice about it. They called him and said, “Hello, Samuel X., I would like a Blurb for my book. Please say something nice, can you?” and the rest is history. Samuel X. Blurb gave a Blurb for the book and his name passed into legend. What the hell am I talking about? Oh, yes, the blurb I have received for my very own novel.
The nice thing about said blurb is that it is from a Very Respected Author, who also happens to be a Well Known Author, which makes the blurb that much nicer. Oh, it would be fine to have a blurb from Hymie Kornblatt, Pickle Maker, but what would it mean? No, for blurbs to mean anything they must be from authors, or celebrities or People In Show Business – then people pick up the book and say, “Oh, look, so and so thinks such and such and so I must buy this book right this very minute”. For example, let’s say a horror novel came out, by a first-time novelist. If that person had a blurb from, say, Stephen King, that would be a great help, because Stephen King knows whereof he speaks. horror novel-wise. In any case, I am pleased as punch to have my very own blurb. Yes, I am pleased as punch, and we all know how pleased punch is. Punch just sits there, lying in a bowl, smiling all the livelong day, so pleased is the punch. So, just what is my blurb? Well, let’s all click on the Unseemly Button below and read it, shall we?
“Behind a thin veil of fiction, Bruce Kimmel’s Benjamin Kritzer is a bittersweet memoir – funny, painful, and ultimately touching.” Ira Levin (author, Rosemary’s Baby, The Stepford Wives, The Boys From Brazil, Deathtrap).
Isn’t that a lovely blurb. I could not have asked for more, and I’m very appreciative that Mr. Levin gave it to use on the dust jacket of the book. If I get more blurbs (I will hopefully have three more), I will print them right here and right now so that Hainsies have the first peek.
It occured to me that we haven’t had a handy-dandy What If in a coon’s age. No, it has been a coon’s age since we’ve had a What If and I do believe it is time to rectify that sorry situation. So, What If Frank Loesser had written Sweeney Todd? And it goes something like this (to the tune of Sit Down, You’re Rockin’ the Boat):
I dreamed last night that a customer named Turpin,
Came in the shop, for he spied my barber chair.
And as he sat, well, I sharpened up my razor,
For the Judge he had his jury right there!
And I said to the Judge, sit down,
Sit down, I’m slittin’ your throat!
Said to the Judge, sit down,
Sit down, I’m slittin’ your throat!
And my razor’ll work such wonders,
And your blood will flow down your fancy coat!
Sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down,
Sit down, I’m slittin’ your throat!
And then I dreamed Mrs. Lovett made a meat pie,
And in this pie there were fingers, toes, and knees.
And people came and they ate up all the meat pies,
So we needed more ingredients to please…
And I said to the folks, sit down,
Sit down, I’m slittin’ your throat!
Said to the folks, sit down,
Sit down, I’m slittin’ your throat!
Just relax while I strop my razor,
Just a little nick and that’s all she wrote!
Sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down,
Sit down, I’m slittin’ your throat!
And still I dreamed, this time of a beggar woman,
Who sung of muffs and a jig-jig in the hay.
And as she sung, well I realized, she’s crazy,
How could I have known this was Judgment Day?
And I said to my wife, sit down,
Sit down, I’m slittin’ your throat!
Said to my wife, sit down,
Sit down, I’m slittin’ your throat!
And I suddenly felt the panic
Of a sinking man on a sinking boat
Sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down,
Sit down I’m slittin’ my throat!
Sit down, I’m slittin’ my throat!
After printing that wonderful song, My Aunt Fanny’s Eyeballs, by the wonderful songwriting team of Hinky Meltz and Ernest Ernest, I managed to unearth a songbook of their fine work. So, from time to time I will print one of their songs because they deserve some recognition as they are largely forgotten today by the masses, the hordes, the throngs. And that is an injustice. We do not like injustice here at haineshisway.com. Justice must be served, dear readers. Today, justice is having a ham on rye, with potato chips. What the hell am I talking about? Oh, yes, the wonderful songs of Hinky Meltz and Ernest Ernest. Here’s one of my favorites:
PUT ME IN A STRAIGHTJACKET BABY, ‘CAUSE I’M CRAZY ABOUT YOU
Music by Hinky Meltz Lyrics by Ernest Ernest
Until I met you, I was blue,
As blue as a bowl of chicken soup.
But now that we’re one, I’m completely undone
Just look at me – I’ve flown the chicken coup.
So, let me simply say
In my own simple way
Put me in a straightjacket, baby,
‘Cause I’m crazy about you.
Put me in a clock because
I’m cuckoo about you, too.
Call me a pecan
‘Cause I am nutty for your kisses
Call me a loaf of bread
Because I knead you to be my missus.
So, put me in a straightjacket, baby,
‘Cause I’m loony for you, goony for you,
Give me electroshock because I’m moony for you,
Yes, I’m crazy about you!
They said that I was bonkers
When I told them that love conquers
All the madness and the sadness that we feel.
They said I was a doozy
When I told them I love youzy
The good newsy is that what I feel is real!
So,
Put me in a straightjacket baby,
‘Cause I’m crazy about you.
Put me in a padded cell
I’m so insane for what you do.
Call me Jerry Lewis
‘Cause I’m goofy for your chest, dear
Call me a fifth of scotch
Because I’m blotto for all the rest, dear
So, put me in a straightjacket, baby,
Because I’m screwy for you, blooey for you
Give me a stick of gum because I’m chewy for you
Yes, I’m crazy about you!
They were awfully good, weren’t they? Such clever wordplay, and the tune is so hummable, too.
Well, dear readers, I have to do the things which need doing, I have to attend to that which needs attending to. in other words I must get on with it. How “it” feels about my getting on with “it” is another story altogether.