I hate this time of year.  Not because of the pressure of the holidays, or because it gets darker earlier, or even because it’s the down time between seasons of Battlestar Galactica.  No, it’s because this time every year, 95% of people who write personal blogs become obsessed with their participation in Na No Wri Mo--or National Novel Writing Month. 

National Novel Writing Month is an annual exercise that invites people to a write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel between November 1 and midnight, November 30.  The official site describes it as “a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing.”

Okay, hold. Stop right there.  Does that sound like a recipe for a good novel?  When’s the last time you saw a cover blurb that read “Shortlisted for the Booker Prize because of its seat-of-the-pants writing style”?  Try “A slapdash exercise in verbal logorrhea that made me physically sick.”

You can’t write a good novel in a month, so why bother?  But don’t take my word for it.  Let’s look at some famous novels that were written in less than a month, and see how they turned out:

On the Road by Jack Kerouac.  Actually, I have no idea how long it took to write this book, but it was probably a month or so. It’s awful.  My college literature professor told us, “This book actually inspired some students of mine to jump on a train and travel across the country.” Well, sure, but not because they liked the book--they were trying to escape having to read schlock like Kerouac.

The Naked Lunch by William Burroughs.  Again, I don’t know how long it took to write this book, but a month seems about right.  And actually, I like the book.  But you won’t be able to do a similarly good job unless you’re 1) a drug addict 2) gay 3) living in the ‘60s.  So unless you meet all of those requirements, take your hands off the keyboard and slowly back away from the computer.

Jersey Girl. Okay, this was a screenplay, not a novel, but Kevin Smith says he wrote it over the course of a week.  And it shows.  I’d rather staple my lips to the back of a Scud missile than watch it again.

Technically the results of Na No Wri Mo aren’t supposed to be good, but are just meant to encourage people to get something--anything--on paper.  I agree that this is a worthy goal.  But start with fingerpaints.  No need to rush into the whole words thing until you’re good and ready.

So I’d like to extend my thanks to California’s Governor Schwarzenegger on blowing $300 million on a “special election” yesterday.

I think that phrase requires another word--"needs." It was really a “Special Needs Election,” which is a nice way of saying that it wasn’t right in the head.

Of course we voted down your lame propositions, Arnie.  Let’s take Proposition 74, which toughened teacher tenure requirements.  Were you serious?  We’re supposed to follow the lead of Kindergarten Cop in regards to setting academic standards?  What we really need to do is pass a proposition that limits all future showings of that movie to five minutes, in the name of public health, because seeing as much of it as I did cost me ten years of life.  Yes it is a tumor, and it’s your fault, and your idiotic movie caused it.  Here’s a thought: give teachers a decent salary and attract good people into the profession and maybe you won’t have to worry about getting rid of the bad ones.  Is that too difficult of a concept for your steroid-addled peanut head?

Did I mention that you cost the taxpayers $300 million?  That’s a whole new Lord of the Rings movie right there.

Did I mention that not a single proposition on your stupid ballot passed? But let’s not keep berating you. Instead, let’s take a look at some propositions that should have been on the ballot.  These might have fared better.  Keep them in mind--for next time.*

Proposition 809.  Your redistricting proposition failed.  It wasn’t a bad idea, but the voters didn’t trust you to be the person who prevents political gerrymandering.  Here’s one that the voters would swallow more easily: Proposition 809, which mandates that everyone who watches The Tony Danza Show lives in one district and everyone else lives in another.  Would you want to vote alongside those kinds of people?  I know that I don’t.  That’s not what I want for me and my family. 

Proposition 143. We’re all happy that Proposition 13 limits the amount of property tax that homeowners have to pay.  But unfortunately, that famous proposition has also prevented the state from getting the revenues it needs for schools and social services.  Proposition 143 would leave most homeowners alone but levy a tax on those who have gnomes, unicorns, or even deer sculptures on their front lawn.  The tax is doubled if they actually have a sign for their last name over the front door, such as “THE BILLINGSLEYS.” Those people need to pay out the nose.

Proposition 52. This proposition bans anyone at my office from saying things like “We’re on the same page,” “Let’s sync up,” or “At the end of the day.” I’ll tell you what’s going to happen at the end of the day: this proposition will be passed by a majority and then everyone who talks like this will go to jail for saying annoying things.  Now that’s grassroots action.

Proposition 232. This would ban all pointless Hollywood remakes.  And the Governator should get a kick out of this one, because it’s inspired by the fact that I recently read they’re remaking Arnie’s old flick Predator.  That movie deserves to be remade?  It was stupid the first time.  No more remakes.  Except maybe Weird Science because it was funny but the computers they used to create the hot magic woman are really out of date.  Like a Commodore 64 could have created Kelly LeBrock!  That is just ridiculous!  Now a PowerBook G4--that’s a scientifically defensible position.

Proposition 421. I was in the Mission District of San Francisco last night and some guy sticks a pamphlet in my face and says “You vote yet?  The polls close in ten hours.” I shook my head, meaning “Don’t talk to me because you smell funny,” and he took that to mean that I didn’t vote, and he snarled “You didn’t vote?  You gotta vote, man.” In point of fact, I voted two weeks earlier thanks to the glory of the absentee ballot that lets me vote while drinking coffee and wearing boxer shorts--which is how I’ve always voted in the past as well but people apparently don’t mind as much as long as I’m in my own home.  The point is, I was three blocks away before I thought of a comeback to the pamphlet guy, which is “Okay, I’ll vote; I vote that you get the hell out of my face.” Which leads me to my proposition, which is that people who irritate me to have to hang out for several minutes until I can come up with the perfect snappy comeback.  I hate missing that window of opportunity, and I know that many unions and political action committees will agree with me.

Proposition 321.  I’m a genius for coming up with all these propositions, so everyone has to now refer to me as “Your Excellency.”

That’s it. Let’s get some petitions signed and get those suckers on the ballot for next time.

*By the way, none of this bile aimed at Arnie should imply that I think his public rival, Warren Beatty, would do any better.  I’m pretty sure they torture prisoners of war by showing Dick Tracy on an endless loop.  Get these damn actors out of politics and let’s get someone in here who’s smart.  Who’s reasonable.  Who’s willing to do what’s right for the people of California.  Like...like the members of Franz Ferdinand.

Shopping on behalf of other people in Barnes & Noble led me where it usually does--finding a book that I actually want for myself, such as the new Lemony Snicket, and collapsing into one of the store’s comfy chairs to flip through it and laugh as infant Sunny Baudelaire meets an untrustworthy judge and exclaims “Scalia!” But several minutes later, as I was wrapped up in the story, a voice said: “Excuse me--excuse me a second please?”

I looked up.  A young woman was looking at me while putting down her two bags, which contained a laptop and several textbooks including one on advanced calculus.

She said, “Could you watch these for me for a minute?”

I said, “Sure.”

She came back a few minutes later and said “Thanks.”

What I Said:

“No problem.”

What I Wish I Had Said:

“Why do people think it’s safer to ask someone to watch their stuff than it is to simply leave the things and hope for the best?  Just because you exchanged a few words with me doesn’t mean I’m not a thief.  I could steal your bags and like it.”

“Is it because I look like a nice guy? Let me tell you, I went on a shoplifting binge when I was four years old.  I only stopped when my mother caught me smuggling a pack of lifesavers out of the supermarket.  They were rolled up in my shirt like little multicolored breasts.  I realized at this point I was poorly suited for a life of crime.  But you don’t know any of that.”

“You know what happens when you go to Rome?  People ask you to hold their baby and then they pick your pocket.  They actually throw the baby at you, like a wind-up fastball.  As it’s evident that you can’t even navigate the ethical perils of a California-based Barnes & Noble, I sure hope you’re not planning a trip to Rome.”

“Advanced Calculus?  Why are you studying that?  You’ll never earn a living that way.  Let me tell you, I was an English major, and people are lining up to give me buckets of mon--okay, wait, that advice is dumb. Back to the trusting people in bookstores thing.  Stop doing that.”

I was surfing the Internet Movie Database the other day, and the front page mentioned that it was Dolph Lundgren’s birthday.  He was 48.  I wondered: what has the aging action star been doing the past few years?  So I visited his page, and was momentarily stunned by the first line of his bio: “Dolph Lundgren is living proof that brains and brawn do go together.” I hadn’t encountered a sentence that surreal since I read something in the newspaper about meat panties.

But then I took a look at what Dolph has been doing, and it’s apparent that he’s been putting his time to good use.  The world can always use a movie called The Mechanik (it came out last year--did you catch it?) The Defender (because that’s what Dolph is...he defends) or Retrograde (a very honest title) or Fat Slags (which is--wait a minute, what?) and Direct Action (inspired by the movie’s own journey straight to video).

But I had to stop a second when I came across the entry for the 2000 blockbuster Jill the Ripper, because the IMDB gave a number of alternate titles for the flick.  Jill the Ripper is apparently also known as The Bone Ripper, The Leatherwoman, and Tied Up.

How about that!

And really, I applaud the writers and producers of that movie.  Because great writers throughout history have struggled to find the exact right name for their masterpieces, and I’m glad to see that the masterminds behind Jill the Ripper were no different.  Take Herman Melville, author of Moby Dick, who considered naming the book The Whale Ripper.

Or Queequeg Action.

And--this is a little known historical fact in regards to Melville’s classic tale of sea adventure and human tragedy--but his first draft was called Fat Slags.

Read the first paragraph carefully.

And realize that the typo you made in that important communication or email the other day just doesn’t really compare.