Blogject Is A Word I Just Made Up, Crowdsourcing Is Not

Please excuse this interruption from your regularly scheduled programming (regularly meaning, in this case, extremely intermittently).

This is a Blogject.

My goal with this blog is to force myself to write on a semi-frequent basis and explore different voices, styles and framing devices. One of the projects I want to try is an idea I've had for a while now: to write a crowdsourced story, using ideas suggested by friends/strangers/foreign dignitaries to create real characters and a cohesive thruline.

To be honest, I'm not sure it's actually possible. But it'll be interesting for me (and hopefully for you, if you participate) to see a story start from nothing and grow in a bunch of different directions based on a bunch of different ideas, then streamline into something that's actually readable. My initial aim is to write it in ten parts, with the end of each part offering another opportunity for suggestions.

Part One begins now. To start I need:

1. A genre
2. A location
3. An adjective that describes the main character

Leave your answers in the comments, and I'll get a-writin'.

2013: THE YEAR IN BIEBER

Wow, what a year. 

2013 really showed us the best and worst of ourselves, huh? And nobody can say that more than pop icon Justin Bieber. Let’s take a walk down memory lane and recap some of the highlights (and lowlights!) that we’ll be talking about for years to come.

January starts with great promise, as J-Biebs gives a powerful performance on Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve. Fans around the world are inspired to start their new year off right – including the United States Congress, which finally reaches a deal to avoid the so-called fiscal cliff. But things take a sharp turn for the worse when Bieber is dumped by his longtime girlfriend, Selena Gomez, and caught smoking pot within a week. It’s not all bad, though, as millions of teenage girls follow Bieber’s lead, buying out smoke shops around the country and inadvertently driving an economic boom that sends unemployment rates plummeting to five-year lows.

By February, the strong economy leads President Obama to give Bieber an official Presidential commendation for his valiant and patriotic public substance abuse. However, all that glitters is not gold (though Bieber's teeth are after the federal government mints a new coin in their shape). The singer embarks on an international tour, playing arenas and stadiums around the world, but his strong association with the US government hurts foreign ticket sales.

Things only get worse in March when Bieber is interviewed by tween magazine Tiger Beat Pakistan. Answering a question about the prophet Muhammed, Bieber answers “I dunno. He’s cool, I guess,” setting off a global firestorm about what temperatures, exactly, are allowable in describing the prophet. Bieber is kidnapped following a press event with Hot 94.9 KPOP Islamabad and closes the month tied to a folding chair in an unknown location. To make matters worse, Weird Al Yankovic’s devastating “Baby” parody (“Bieb-weed”) climbs to number 37 on the Billboard charts.

The US economy continues to flourish due to record sales of Forever 21 brand commando gear. Millions of 11-15 year olds across the country plot daring BiebeRescue operations. Luckily Bieber is released by his captors after they realize that the walls of any safehouse – no matter how thick – are not enough to contain his charm. Though he spends most of April recovering from his harrowing capture, Scholastic publishes the poetry that Bieber scrawled with blood on the inside of his hoodie in order to maintain some semblance of sanity. Within weeks it becomes the most read book in the history of civilization.

DEEP REFLECTIONS ON TOILET PAPER

“Truth in advertising” has long been the rallying cry of someone. I’m not sure who, exactly; Google was inconclusive. Regardless, there are laws against deceptive advertising. It’s true. 

Or at least, it’s advertised as such.*

I consider myself a smart shopper. I suspect most people do – acknowledging your own dumbness is not a common trait, unless you’re doing it just to make me cry. I’ve always held a steadfast belief that I can see through any advertising mirage and make a sound purchase. But recently I was duped. I felt fooled and hurt - this particular pain in the ass was caused by the very people I trust to keep my ass out of pain.

I’m talking, of course, about toilet paper. When perusing the paper goods aisle recently, I was faced with some impressively packaged TP shouting at me in bold letters: EIGHT ROLLS = SIXTEEN REGULAR ROLLS! I almost grabbed the package and ran, thinking there was no way a deal this good could be legal. But then I noticed that right down the shelf there were TWELVE ROLLS that equaled THIRTY SIX whole REGULAR ROLLS!

Wondering if an even better deal could be found, I widened my scope. I searched the entire aisle – weighing the benefits of soft vs. ultra soft, calculating the exchange rate between one ply and two ply. After what seemed like hours, I decided I oughtn’t just naively believe the many claims about how many regular rolls were in a jumbo roll. I should grab a regular roll for comparison’s sake, so as not to be taken advantage of.

But it was too late. My advantage had already been of taken! For there were no regular-sized rolls… Like Ponce de Leon vainly trying to find the fountain of youth, or Gargamel fruitlessly grasping at Smurfs, I searched and searched. Yet none could be found.

The regular roll was a myth.

A LETTER FROM THE GHOST OF CHARLTON HESTON or "Moses Supposes, Posthumously"

Dear friends on the mortal plane,

Hello! It’s your old pal Chuck Heston, here. Just wanted to drop you a line and see how things are going down there.

My Earthly headshot...
what a handsome devil.

Let me answer your first question straight away: yes, heaven is awesome. We just got Ben-Hur on blu-ray and the whole place is abuzz about the realism of Hugh Griffith’s blackface, not to mention the clarity and definition of Haya Harareet’s willowy bosom. Afterlife is good.

However, word has reached my ears that there’s a groundswell of support for more restrictive gun control laws in America (I say that in a figurative sense, since in my current form – an ethereal blend of mist and light – I have no physical features). As a pre-eminent firearms activist, I feel like it’s my duty to remind you of the sanity and logic behind the right to carry a gun. That’s why I served as president of the NRA, and that’s why I made the well-known educational films Rifles: Why Ya Gotta Be So Loud? and Rifles 2: Fuck You, Deer.

BOOKS I HAVEN'T READ or "Wallowing In Shelf Pity"

I like books.

They make me feel smart – why just look at the shelf behind me, which holds dozens of them! I must be quite the edified young gentleman!

They generally have words and/or pictures in them (often both at the same time, though let’s not go down that particular wormhole), both of which I tend to enjoy.

They’re an excellent source of conversation, provided you’re able to converse with the random eighty year old retiree or sixteen-year-old hipster who’s still into reading.

In fact, I’d go as far as saying they’re foundational to our very culture. I know I’m out on a limb, here. Don’t believe me? Matthew Lesko knows what I'm talking about.

I like books so much that I actually buy them. That may not sound like a big deal, but keep in mind that I steal most forms of entertainment.*

I also don’t like books.**