Jerry Seinfeld: Living Proof That Not All Dinosaurs Were Wiped Out

 

The Battle About Nothing

Gonzo Kramer fingered a jovial TV tune on his bass guitar, hoping for an audience of some kind in this tiny New York apartment. But alas, all the attention was on his three whiny friends in the kitchen, Jerry Stonefield, George Katana, and Elaine Berretta. No matter how ordinary the topic was, there remained no shortage of comedic observations or general complaints about it. The more they bitched, the harder Kramer’s bass playing became. It had nothing to do with being heard, but everything to do with wanting to slap his friends instead of a bass guitar.

The wavy-haired Jerry Stonefield held a jug of milk in his hands and asked, “Why is it called two-percent milk?! It’s a hundred-percent full when you buy it. It should be called a hundred-percent milk! And why is it so funny when Oval Teen dissolves in it? And why is it called Oval Teen? The jar is round. The teenagers who drink it become round. It should be called Round Teen!”

This earned a corny laugh from anybody not named Gonzo Kramer, who slapped his bass guitar with even more aggression. He could have played bagpipes, a kazoo, and crash cymbals and still wouldn’t have drawn a crowd.

All the attention now was on the horseshoe-haired, stumpy George Katana, who said, “I drank a whole jar of Oval Teen on TV once. I didn’t even put milk in it, I just ate the powder. I had powder all over my face and there were no napkins around. Whoever was responsible for shooting that footage cost me a relationship!”

“You should’ve just eaten soup, George,” said Elaine, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Soup is not a meal unless you crumble some crackers in it.”

“It’s the Bubble Boy’s fault anyways,” said George.

“No, it’s Newman’s fault,” said Jerry. “Everything is Newman’s fault! He’s not a mystery wrapped in a riddle! He’s a mystery wrapped in a Twinkie! There’s LESS to Newman than meets the eye!”

The kitchen drivel blended together and became more obnoxious for Kramer to listen to than any instrument he could have been playing. It didn’t matter how hard he banged his instrument, because it was his own head that needed banging against a brick wall if this conversation was allowed to continue. And then…he got an idea.

“I like Newman, but I don’t know if he’s sponge-worthy!” confessed Elaine before Kramer got up and smashed his bass guitar over her head, crushing her skull and splattering her brains all over the counter. The guitar wasn’t in any better shape since the neck broke off and the thick strings coiled up.

Jerry and George backed up against the fridge shaking in horror. Jerry yelled, “Kramer, what the hell are you doing?! You killed her!”

“Yeah, well I wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship with her,” confessed Kramer with an evil grin on his face.

George whimpered and stuttered, “Have you ever killed somebody before?”

Throwing the neck of the bass guitar on the ground, Kramer held out his bloodied hands and said, “What do you think, Junior? Have these hands been soaking in Ivory liquid?” He then wiped the blood all over George’s flannel shirt and Dockers pants. “Wait a minute…cotton Dockers! One hundred percent! If they’re not Dockers, they’re just pants!” In one fluid motion, Kramer ripped George’s pants off and left him trembling in his boxers and socks.

With Jerry unable to help him due to cowering in the corner, George begged, “Please don’t hurt me, Kramer!”

“Shut up, you whiny bitch!” yelled Kramer. “Fifty years ago, we would have had you upside down with a fucking fork up your ass! In fact, now that I’ve got you here…” He grabbed George by the ear and allowed the victim’s glasses to fall on the floor. George could scream all he wanted, but his trembling legs weren’t backing him up in his begging for freedom. Kramer dragged George to the open apartment window and bent him over the sill.

As George whimpered and squealed, Kramer let out a few yodels to taunt him before ripping off his victim’s underwear. “Aww, what’s the matter, you big baby?!”

“Kramer…I think it moved…”

“Get a life, you faggot!” yelled Kramer before smacking George on the ass. He spanked him a few more times until George’s naked butt was blistered and bleeding. “Hey, George! Are you sponge worthy?! Can your boys swim?!”

“For God’s sake, Kramer, let him go!” cried Jerry, huddling in the corner despite his small moment of bravery.

“You want me to let him go?! Okay! I just hope he doesn’t need radical reconstructive surgery afterwards!” Kramer shoved George out the window and it was only seconds after that the sound of crunching metal and glass echoed across the street. It was even more musical to Kramer’s ears than his bass guitar playing, but it was not nearly as boner-inducing as Jerry’s pleas for forgiveness in the corner of the kitchen.

Kramer slowly stalked towards his final victim and stood over him like a giant over a sea of frightened villagers.

“Please, Kramer, don’t kill me! I won’t tell anybody about this! I won’t even do it in my standup comedy!”

Kramer knelt beside Jerry and placed a hand on his vibrating, tear-stained arm. “And here I thought you liked edgy comedy. This is far more compelling than arguing about two-percent milk and whether or not soup is a meal. Aren’t you always complaining about how everything is too politically correct these days? Well, you’re being a snowflake right now!”

“Kramer, you murdered them!” Jerry wiped his leaky eyes with his other sleeve.

“Your audience was dead long before I smashed that bass guitar over Elaine’s head! Who gives a shit about two-percent milk?! Who gives two fucks about Oval Teen?! In fact…” Kramer pulled out a jar of Oval Teen from the cabinet and scooped up a handful. “This should help with your little crying problem.” He threw the powder in Jerry’s face and caused him to blubber some more.

Trying to talk over Jerry’s screams of pain, Kramer said, “You know why they should call it Round Teen?! Because your crappy comedy is like a circle! It just goes on and on and on! It never changes! It’s the same shit over and over again and I’m sick and tired of it! Do something edgy! Change it up a little bit!” He grabbed handful of Jerry’s hair and said, “Don’t make me come back here again!” Kramer then slammed the back of Jerry’s head against the cabinet. “Maybe that’ll scramble your brains enough!”

Months after the incident, Kramer never returned. Jerry’s brains did get scrambled. This was the wakeup call he never asked for. Quite frankly, nobody else asked for it either. Kramer sat in his jail cell watching TV one night when he saw Jerry debut new material on a late night talk show. He sported a shaved head and an older look (probably because of the beatings and trauma respectively), but he was definitely ready to charm the audience.

“Oh, people. They’re so important to you,” said Jerry. “You’ve got to be on your phone all the time because the people in your life are important. Really? They don’t seem that important with the way you swipe right by them like a gay French king.” The audience laughed as Jerry made exaggerated swiping motions with his finger. “Who pleases me today? Who shall I favor? Who shall I delete?”

“Okay, maybe I fucked him up a little too hard,” said Kramer to nobody in particular. “Can you go back to talking about Oval Teen?”

A prison guard knocked on his cell bars and said, “Gonzo Kramer? It’s time for your last meal.” And what did he get for a last meal? Soup with crackers crumbled in the broth.

“Soup is not a meal, damn it!” yelled Kramer. “Jerryyyyyyyyyyy!!”

"Sein Language" by Jerry Seinfeld

BOOK TITLE: Sein Language

AUTHOR: Jerry Seinfeld

YEAR: 1993

GENRE: Nonfiction

SUBGENRE: Comedy Routines

GRADE: Pass

It doesn’t seem to matter what the topic is, because Jerry Seinfeld has a keen ability to find some humor out of everyday life. He notices things that ordinary people wouldn’t be able to. Anything can seem silly when seen through Jerry’s eyes. A shower radio? Just what he needs: something to dance to on a slippery surface with a glass door. Handicapped parking? Must be complicated at a place like The Special Olympics. Public speaking being more terrifying than death? You’d rather be in the casket than giving in a eulogy. It’s this analytical style that made Jerry Seinfeld a successful comedian throughout the years, enough of a success to have his own 90’s sitcom, in fact. The best part about these jokes is that they’re ageless. You won’t have angry groups barking down your neck for reading this book, unlike now when Jerry makes jokes about swiping by friends on your cell phone like a “gay French king”. Even with anachronistic jokes about channel surfing and landline phones, the comedy in this book never goes out of style. It’s fun for all generations and all walks of life. Sure, the suicide joke past the hundred page mark might be a little too intense, but you’ll make it through. I promise you will. A passing grade will go to this wonderful piece of comedy!

Written Implications: Occupy Wrestling

***WRITTEN IMPLICATIONS: OCCUPY WRESTLING***

An authortube meme stolen from Kelly Damon a.k.a. Rainbow Skychild: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CK1AVagRXeY

As Kelly (no relation to me) says in the video, this meme is geared towards writers of fantasy and sci-fi since the boundaries for real world scenarios are already set. Well, Occupy Wrestling is an urban fantasy, but it still operates on its own implications, much like pro-wrestling does in the real world.

Occupy Wrestling tells the story of a heated rivalry between blue-collar underdog Mitch McLeod and his bitter billionaire boss Keegan Day. It takes Mitch forever to get a World Championship opportunity and when he finally does, he accidentally kills his opponent. And yet it’s Keegan who ends up behind bars because of his shady dealings with bookies and even the IRS. Everything should be happy in the world of pro-wrestling, right? Wrong! Keegan rolls out a brand new wrestling roster filled with magical monsters and vicious creatures. They’ve got claws, muscles, fangs, fur, and nasty attitudes. They all want what Mitch has: the KDW World Championship. Maybe they want even more than that: his life!

First implication: much like in the real world, the top one-percent is never held accountable. Oh sure, Keegan gets put in a minimum security prison, but what does that really solve? Nothing. He’s still all powerful. He still has demons and monsters at his disposal. He can still make Mitch McLeod’s life a living hell. Keegan could walk down Fifth Avenue, shoot somebody, and not a goddamn thing would happen to him. Sound familiar?

Second implication: Mitch McLeod is a Gary-Stu for a reason and it has nothing to do with me babying him. It has everything to do with him being overprotective of his girlfriend Debra Winter. Debra wants to be a badass wrestler just like her boyfriend, but Mitch refuses to train her out of fear that she’ll be put in sexually exploitative matches. This novella was written before the Women’s Evolution in WWE, so Mitch has a least a little bit of truth in his argument.

Third Implication: Debra Winter will always be in danger as long as she doesn’t know how to fight. It doesn’t matter if she’s with Mitch or in a safe house somewhere: Keegan’s forces of evil will always find her, probably because their animal instincts. For fuck’s sake, Mitch, just train her already! Quit being a goddamn superhero and swallow your fucking pride!

Fourth Implication: the police are largely useless in this novella for a number of reasons. One, they’re being paid off by Keegan Day. Two, some of them just don’t care enough. Three, those that do care are vastly outnumbered. And four, nobody believes that Keegan is unleashing monsters upon his roster. Having a useless police force is necessary in pretty much all of my novels, because if they can solve everything, there’s no point in the main character going through a journey of any kind.

Fifth Implication: training for wrestling in Japan is considerably worse than training anywhere else. And yet in the real world, there are wrestlers who would rather train in a brutal Japanese dojo than get anywhere near former WWE trainer Bill DeMott. You know you suck as a trainer when your students would rather get humiliated and beaten by Japanese wrestlers than learn anything from you. That’s like saying, “I’d rather have my dick sawed off than train with Bill DeMott.” Not quite, but close enough.

Final Implication: Pro-wrestling is treated as a legitimate sport in this novella, no different from football, MMA, or basketball. And yet, the same dumb-ass logic still applies and wrestlers can get away with just about anything. And before you pipe up and say that Keegan went to jail, I must remind you that he still controls everything from his comfy cell. He’s about as powerful as a mafia kingpin. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s got monsters and money, two things you need to succeed as a wrestling promoter.

Well, I had lots of fun doing this! And guess what? If you’re an author of fantasy or sci-fi, you can do this too! I won’t tag anybody, but if you want to tag yourself, you’re more than welcome to do so. Let’s have some fun together! Oh, and don’t forget to purchase a copy of Occupy Wrestling at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other online retailers (but only if you’re a wrestling fan, which I can’t stress enough, because you might not enjoy or understand it otherwise). I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!

***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

GIRLFRIEND: I’m sorry, Jerry, but I can’t date a man if I don’t respect what he does for a living.

JERRY: You’re a cashier!

-Seinfeld-

Steamboat Springs Vacation

***STEAMBOAT SPRINGS VACATION***

This coming Wednesday (September 9^th), I’m headed to the airport to begin my family vacation in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. I come home from vacation on the 14^th of that same month. That means I’ll spend five days in a place that has been described as “beautiful” and “dog friendly” by my mother. I’ve been in lots of places that were beautiful and dog friendly from Monterey Bay, California to Long Beach, Washington to Seaside, Oregon to Victoria, BC, Canada. If Steamboat Springs promises the same thing as those places, I’m in for a relaxing and stress-free vacation, which is the only kind of vacation I’ll do these days.

For all of you internet folk, it means the same thing as every other time I go on vacation: limited internet access and an inability to create new pieces of art whether it’s writing, photography, or drawing. For Deviant Art and Face Book, this means the most activity you’ll get out of me is replying to messages and nothing more. For Good Reads, particularly the WSS Contest, it means I won’t be able to participate in that week’s competition. For Read Together, Blog Together, don’t worry about a thing, because as soon as I get back from vacation, the first thing I’m going to do is read and review “So…I Met a Vampire” by Paul McAvoy. Last and sure as hell not least, Mr. Andy Peloquin, you don’t need to worry about a thing either, because your September 8^th guest blog post about music and creativity will go live at midnight that day. Blogger.com allows for delayed posting, so I’m not scrambling to put things together at the last minute.

Just like with all vacations past, present, and future, I will return to the internet and I will get settled back into my daily routine. Try not to laugh when I say “daily routine”. I may be jobless, but that doesn’t mean I sit around with my thumbs in my ass all day long. Hehe! We’ve got ears, say cheers!

　

***AMERICAN DARKNESS***

If you’re on Deviant Art, you would have noticed several messages in your inbox that are updated short stories from this series. Those recent four stories have been completed and American Darkness is now fully repaired. All I have to do now is put together the .DOC files for Smash Words and Create Space and it’ll be ready to go. Despite the overwhelming numbers of crybaby male characters and bitchy female characters in these short stories, I can say with undying confidence that this version of American Darkness is ten times better than the one currently holding a 2.75 star rating on Good Reads. A big thanks goes to Marie Krepps for being there for me throughout all 50 of those stories. I pay a lot of lip service to that woman, but that goes to show how important a good beta reader is. Hell, I’d build a religious temple with her likeness on it if I wasn’t too lazy for manual labor. Hehe!

　

***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

KRAMER: Things are going pretty well for me here in Hollywood. I met a girl.
JERRY: Kramer, she was murdered.
KRAMER: Yeah, well, I wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship anyways.

-Seinfeld-