Reuse, Recycle, Reblog!
From time to time we run out of ideas for the CC blog, and are desperate enough to ask members to recycle posts from their own sites. We hope you enjoy this charming "reblog" from author Lindy Moone's "Belly-up!" (Lindy wrote this intro herself. We would not have used the words "desperate" or "charming," and, come to think of it, wouldn't have admitted to running out of ideas. She's still writing this. Please make her stop. Also, please offer up one of your own favorite posts, dear members, or she's likely to come back.)
Writing Satire is Addictive. Please... send... help.
by Lindy Moone
I have been to NewsBiscuit, and have lived to tell the tale! Thought I was going there for a little vacation, but got trapped, and have finally hacked my way out.
Thanks for coming in after me, by the way. Yes, that was sarcasm. Didn't you hear me screaming?
For those not-in-the-know, NewsBiscuit is an Onion-esque spoof news site out of the UK. Unlike The Onion, NewsBiscuit graciously allows just anyone (how do you think I got in there?) to post stories and headlines in its "Writers' Room." Like most purveyors of things-that-might-be-bad-for-you (drugs, porn, hopscotch, pork rinds), they make it easy to get into the habit.
What they don't tell you is just how hard it is to get out. That satire is addictive. That places like NewsBiscuit are enablers. They actually encourage puns! They reward them... with stars!
To my shame, each time I punned, I found it had to be worse, in order to elicit the same amount of moaning and groaning -- both from myself and from my fellow addicts. Here are some of the horrible, horrible things I found myself saying over there:
Bookworm dies in "Reading Frenzy."
Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater's wife accuses him of hollow premises.
Dentist pulls own tooth, feels "thumb pain."
Cat with high I.Q. won't use litter tray, stinks outside the box.
But it's not just all puns, all the time over there. Oh, no. There's satire across the board, spoofs for all occasions. Plenty of Royal bashing. I am proud to say I did not participate in that unseemly behavior -- but hey, they're not my royals. The Biscuiteers are also fond of picking at their NHS -- National Health Service -- as if it were a scab on the backside of a pensioner (a British retiree; the butt of many a joke, including one of mine, "Hippy to be redefined as 'Hipster with Hip Replacement'," which died a swift, merciful death). As an American, I couldn't participate in NHS bashing, since my own opinion is that some health care has got to be better than none, and that scabs are best left alone. Unless of course they are a different kind of scab -- the kind that would say:
If you picket, it will never get better.
See what I mean? It's a sickness. A disease. Let's have a fund-raiser for punners. Comic Relief for comic relief.
Like all addicts, I had to hit rock-bottom before I could admit I had a problem, before I could break free. I knew it was time to go when my family life became the punchline. My moment of despair came with this little beauty, which actually made the front page:
In-laws revealed to be number one cause of outlaws.
How did I get out? I really don't know. The strong pull of friends and family played a part -- despite my fellow addicts trying to convince me that I had no other friends, no one to care if I lived on Biscuits forever. If only I did know how I got out, I could help others break the Biscuit habit. I left so many behind, didn't even leave a trail of crumbs. And I was there for only two weeks. Some of them have been trapped there for years.
OK. I've decided. I'm going back in, to throw them a lifeline...
I may be some time.
Sooo... what kind of writing has you hooked? Do tell.