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How to write a rant:
Spend day reading book and hiking mountain. “I’ll do the rant tonight,” you think. “Surely I will have come up with something by then.”
Finish book about 6pm. “Time to get started on rant, oooh! King of the Hill!” continue watching Fox shows for 2 hours. Including a very, very disappointing Simpsons. Think to yourself, “I don’t think I’ll ever watch the Simpsons again.”
Realize that you (who makes at least two Simpsons references a day) have just said that you will not watch Simpsons again. Die a little inside.
Wonder if you’re weird for thinking Judy Greer is hot.
Realize that it is now 8:00 and you don’t have even a topic for a rant. The word “poop” floats through your head as something funny, but you decided long ago that if you were going to do this it wasn’t going to be sophomoric and crude humour.
Wonder how may people will correct your spelling of “humour.” It’s the British spelling, people!
“Ok,” you think, “I need to get cracking on this rant.”
Decide that you need Sprite. Go to store, buy Sprite. Talked to clerk about the beer on the floor. He says that people from out of state always come in to buy booze on Sundays and are confused by the Blue laws. Wonder if there is a rant in this. Decide that there isn’t.
Drive home. Spend five minutes parked in car pretending to clean and fiddle with things because good song is on the radio, (Bowling for Soup, “Almost,” by the way). Wonder if there is a rant in that, decide there isn’t.
Get home. Drink Sprite. Now there is no more Sprite.
Wonder why carbonated beverage is named after mystical being. Would Pixie be a better name? No. Stix already cornered the market.
Remember that the red dot on 7-up is because the inventor was albino, and had red eyes. At least, that’s what the email said.
Can you invent a beverage? What would be the word? Alchemist? Formulator? Very thirsty person?
And do you always believe everything you read in email?
Stare at blank computer screen for 15 minutes or so. Crave more Sprite.
Begin to consider that “poop” could be written as irony. Then, “poop” not crass. “Poop” understated and brilliant.
Scrap the whole “poop” idea after two sentences.
Decide that figurine of Woody from Toy Story on desk is mocking your ability to write a rant. Roommates come check on your sanity after overhearing you yell, “You try it plastic cowboy!”
Think back to failed rants you’ve tried to write before. Perhaps you could jazz one of the old ones up. Perhaps the one about when 14 year olds talk on instant messaging systems and chat rooms? Not funny, and kind of creepy. The one about the laws that forbid men from talking in the bathroom? Already posted. The one about the parody fantasy novel? Demographic too narrow. Psychic predictions for 2005? It’s April. That ship has sailed. Let it go, man. Resolve to come up with better topics for rants.
Crave more Sprite. Why did you not buy 2 when you were at the store?
Look down, and see that your old cell phone is still not charging and still contains the phone book with the phone numbers of all your friends, many of whom you can only contact through cell phone book. Wonder if there is a rant in this, decide there’s not.
Remember that you were going to write a rant on the Pope and the mass mailing pamphlet under your car windshield wiper yesterday. Decide that this would only call attention to mass mailing pamphlet, so no.
Remember something written by Dave Barry long ago, that he could only write if his dogs were sitting under his chair, farting. Remember being sad that you didn’t have a dog to fart under your chair at the time, and despaired of ever writing. Become sad for a moment, then realize that there is now a gaseous dog in the next room.
Repeated attempts to lure the dog under your chair fail. Give up jerry-rigged puppy restraints as a bad go after much loss of skin to biting and clawing. Release puppy who goes tearing into next room again, probably to chew more holes in the carpet. Wonder if there’s a rant in that, decide there’s not.
Lament lost creative spark. This was so easy three years ago. Decide you have gotten old and decrepit. Spend 20 minutes in bathroom learning to execute perfect comb-over in preparation for new life as geezer. A mild problem presents itself in that you still have all your hair. Decide that with the perfect comb over, it will look like you have all your hair. Mission accomplished!
With the new feeling of self esteem you get with the perfect comb-over, you go back and stare at the computer again. The perfectly white void of the word processing page hurts your eyes and renders all ideas feeble and half baked. The emptiness sucks all thoughts from your head like a black hole, only it’s white.
Sprite, why hast thou forsaken this lowly mortal vessel for your yummy goodness?!
Watch a commercial for the Sony PSP. Decide that even if the PSP cured cancer, it still would not excuse the manly man jiggling up and down in the gold short shorts. Wonder if there’s a rant in that, decide there’s not.
Now it’s late. Adult Swim is about to come on, and you want, nay, need to watch it. Look feverishly around the room for something to write a rant on in AHHHH 54 minutes! Vacuum cleaner? No. Empty Sprite bottle? This makes you lose a couple of minutes to facial tics. You start again. New pants? No. Sarah Vowell book? No.
Spend 5 minutes enjoying huge crush on Sarah Vowell. Wonder if she would be jealous of Judy Greer. Decide that, no, Sarah is a classy dame, and would not mind. Also decide that most of your women problems stem from the fact that you use words like “dame.” Also that you spell “humour” like the British do. Pretentious, much? Decide to be stupid.
In this vein, resurrect “poop” rant. Even with newfound stupidity, still cannot bring yourself to do it. Quit after two more lines.
Remember also that Dave Barry once did an article about what he did to produce his articles. Figure you’ve got no better idea. Make mental note to apologize to faithful readers and promise not to wait until the last minute again.
Next week, repeat.
