Whirled News #3
Horror author and social commentator Mark McLaughlin attacks today’s most burning issues, and occasionally some future issues, whenever his psychic powers kick in and/or he’s had a couple gin-and-tonics. Mr. McLaughlin and the officials at Delirium Books do not accept responsibility for any negative outcomes that might arise (such as bankruptcy, dismemberment or death) when and if you use the information in this column to make decisions in your own life. But, if you use this information to make an ass-load of money, you’d better share the wealth, or else winged iguanas will tear off your genitals in the night.
Time to Put the “Ow!” in Iowa
by Mark McLaughlin
© 2007 by Mark McLaughlin
All Rights Reserved
Have I mentioned I live in Iowa? Oh, don’t cry. It’s all right. Really. Save your tears for starving and yet potbellied (how does that work?) Third-World babies. Iowa has its moments, and the American dollar goes quite far here. Plus, it’s not as violent as other parts of the globe. No one has murdered me yet, and I feel pretty lucky in that regard, because I’m a real wise-ass. I’ve always thought that most murder victims over the years have probably been wise-asses.
Remember that I’m from Iowa as you read on.
A few weeks ago, I took a four-day motivational seminar. You know the kind: they’re all, “Come on, let’s all be really outgoing and figure out how to plaster big grins on our faces every day when we go to work, because we all know, most of us would rather be at home watching porn, or of course, having sex!”
I must admit, the seminar was sorta fun. Lots of other people from work went, too—the boss was paying for it, so why not? I could see it was helpful for some of my co-workers who are a little on the shy side. I can’t say it did much good for me. I mean, as you’ve probably gleaned by now, I am about as outgoing as a person can possibly get. If I were any more outgoing, my intestines would be on the outside of my body and I’d be flailing people with them as I walked down the street.
For a person like me, franchised lessons in being outgoing are kind of like teaching a hooker how to French-kiss. “Oh, really? Is that how it’s done? Golly, I never knew. Guess I’ve been doing it wrong all these years. But while you’re here and we’re getting to know each other, let me show YOU a few things…”
One of the presenters was Canadian, and he was pretty cool. He clearly had a talent for physical comedy, which he incorporated into his presentations. We talked a couple times during breaks, and I told him a little about my books. Apparently he looked me up online a few days later, because he found my e-mail address and sent me a message.
He told me, he was going to let his fellow Canadians know that Iowans are good, kind, friendly people. Or words to that effect.
(See? I did get back to talking about Iowa.)
Now, I know he meant well. He was trying to be friendly. He’s a friendly guy.
But I was tempted to e-mail him back and say, “Why are you gonna tell them that? Is it because everyone thinks Iowans are a bunch of hicks? Is that the deal? Oh, SNAP! Don’t make me break off an Iowa milk-cow’s hoof in your ass!”
Instead I let him know, he should tell his fellow-Canadians that Iowa is in fact, the new Monaco and the Mississippi River is the new French Riviera. He should inform everyone in Toronto that the streets of Iowa are filled with rock stars and voodoo priestesses, and that every day is Mardi Gras times ten.
THAT’S the message he should share with others.
After all, Iowa is trying to increase tourism.
Strangely enough, I never heard back from him.
Now, I was only being tongue-in-cheek with the nice Canadian dude, but you know…Maybe I really had something there. Maybe I was on the right track. Maybe I was cooking on all four burners of my cerebral oven.
Maybe Iowa needs more attitude. Maybe we need to ditch the wholesome schtick and walk the whole Iowa concept upstairs. Maybe throw on some black leather.
Maybe it’s time to put the “Ow!” in Iowa.
Ooooh, it’ll hurt so good.
Iowa’s could use a major image overhaul. Let’s sex it up! After all, Iowa has plenty of those farmer’s daughters who people have been making bawdy jokes about since the days of vaudeville. Heck, why stop with the daughters? What about the farmer’s dim-bulb son…or the farmer’s randy old grandma? Or the farmer himself, for that matter! How about the livestock? Ever wonder where whipped cream comes from? Iowa bondage cows, baby!
I recently took my own minor walk on the wild side recently. Out of the blue, I bleached my hair totally blond. Like sun-washed corn silk. And suddenly, everybody I know was asking me, “What does this mean?” A co-worker even said, “You’re not even the same person any more!” I said, “You’re right. My name is Lars now.”
So what did my transition really mean? Nothing! It’s only hair, people. It’s not like I had a komodo dragon tattooed across my face. If anything, it means I get bored with looking the same, day in and day out. I’m really liking the blond thing, so I’ll probably keep it this way for a while.
I think everyone needs to shake up their image every now and then. It makes the people in your life see you in a new light.
And more importantly, it makes YOU see you in a new light.
I challenge you, oh reader mine, to do something relatively dramatic—but not necessarily drastic—with your appearance.
Buy some clothes at a different store. Dye your hair. Get something pierced.
If you don’t like the final effect, you can always return the clothes. Or dye your hair back to its regular color. Or let the piercing grow over.
Who knows, maybe your significant other will suddenly say, “Oh! So-and-so looks different now! Why, when we have sex, it’ll be like having sex with a different person! That’s HOT! I guess I don’t need to have that affair I was thinking of starting next week!”
See? I just saved your relationship by prolonging your significant other’s interest in you.
No need to thank me! Remember, I’m your buddy.
Who’ll always love ya? Who’s always thinking of ya?
Mark McLaughlin, that’s who!
And, maybe your mom.
Comment by SLIM on 6 March 2007:
Funny. I colored my black hair bleach blond once, But my wife said I should have done my eyebrows. I said contrast baby. She didn’t buy it. She maybe into cow whipping though? Of course she’d probably beat the shit out of me when I came at her with the whip.
Comment by jpokela on 6 March 2007:
Hey. I just got out of Iowa. I spent four weeks working at a power plant in Cedar Rapids Iowa and it was hell. I can see why this guy writes horror. It is no doubt a defense mechanism to make his real life seem normal!! My hotel room had broken pieces of crack pipe on the carpet. The local police took drug dogs through the halls on a regular basis. The newspapers were full of meth-head vs. police car races when they weren’t doing stories on 14 year old runaway rape victims and the 40 year old repeat offenders who “befriended” them. Every person I talked would veer off on some story of personal ruin and destruction, usually weather related. Weather was a big topic, always bad. Being from Minnesota I thougth we had a monopoly on bad weather. I learned better. I drink alot more now that I escaped from Iowa. I will soon forget. forget. forget.
Comment by Scott Berke on 6 March 2007:
After reading this I went out and had my head shaved and my eyebrow pierced.
When I got home the dogs attacked me and my wife threw me out yelling something about a mid-life crisis and how I am no longer the man she married.
Last time I take advice from an Iowan.
Comment by Shane Staley on 6 March 2007:
Scott: See disclaimer at the top of this page!
Comment by Scott Berke on 6 March 2007:
Crap! Gotta remember to read the fine print next time!