To Head it Off at the Pass

Yes, I’ve seen this. Also this.

And to repeat, while I surely appreciate the enthusiasm, it’s not necessary to e-mail me about every thing on the Internet involving bacon. I think the idea that I respond to bacon as Sonny the Cuckoo Bird responds to Coco Puffs is one I’d like to move away from.

33 Comments on “To Head it Off at the Pass”

  1. Okay, it has nothing to do with bacon, but since we’re sharing silly news,how about the guy who turned himself blue without makeup or paint?

    http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/us/2007/12/19/haagenson.blue.man.kfsn

    Just add in something to the colloidal silver extract, perhaps a Hep virus liver killer, like jaundice or something and you could be green!

    Oddly enough, I wonder if that would work. If you became sick with Jaundice, would you actually turn green if you were already blue?

  2. Jesus, those all-bacon snacks are scary.
    I do appreciate his honesty regarding feeling terrible when he finished the sandwich and the cereal though.

    He also needs to learn to put something starchy in his burgers or they’ll always fall apart. a tablespoon of oatmeal, or crushed bran-flakes or something. At worst, he could knead an egg into the bacon-mush.

  3. I feel your pain, John. My website, linked above, features a “website mascot”– a cute little one-off joke that proved to be really popular– in this case a baby dragon whose favorite food was ham.

    This leads to many people thinking *I* am obsessed with ham just as much as my website’s “mascot”.

    My wife and I have been working on a children’s book on and off again for ages– she created a llittle sister for said website mascot, and the little sister dragon’s favorite food was pickles.

    People assume that my wife does, too.

    When we announced our wedding years ago, a few ‘net friends even joked “So will there be ham and pickles at the reception”?

    … now while we got catering done by Dickie’s BBQ… this did mean that brisket and pickles were served– but it’s TEXAS. If you’re doing a BBQ spread, that’s pretty much de rigeur!

  4. I hear you, Shawn. I write about beer and booze occasionally, and now it seems as though I’m a raging alcoholic in spite of the fact that I rarely drink all that often.

    I guess people will run with whatever they wish.

    As for Scalzi, well… No bacon until you meet your deadline.

  5. Johnny Carruthers, I believe the person who tries to do such a thing might be regretful for the few seconds they would have left to them after she severs their head from their neck.

  6. changterhune – Before you hear lies from Chang Terhune himself, we thought we’d tell you the truth: without us, his old action figures, he’d be nowhere. He loved science fiction from way back and began reading it at an early age, but it was through us that he acted it all out. That’s what led to the writing. He watched a lot of science fiction shows like Star Trek, U.F.O, and movies, too. But we were always there to do his bidding. And it’s like they say: you always forget about the little people on your way up. Oh, the 70’s and early 80’s with him were good times! He’d use these blocks and make all the crazy buildings for us to be in his stories. I gotta say the kid’s imagination was pretty damn fertile. Oh, he had friends, but they just weren’t into it like him. He was like the Lance Armstrong of action figures. And of science fiction. At first, when he began writing in the eighth grade, we didn’t mind. He still made time for us. And we knew that when he was holding us in his sweaty little hands and he got that far off look in his eye, he’d come back to burying us in the back yard or - god forbid! – blowing us up with firecrackers. But it was worth it for a part in one of those stories. We loved him for it. He kept us around even when we were minus a leg or two - or even a head. In that mind of his, he found a use for all of us. Then he discovered girls. October, 1986. It was like the end of the world. One day we’re standing in the middle of this building block creation he’d pretended was some marble city on a planet near Alpha Centauri and the next we were stuck in a box in the closet. Not even a “See ya later!” Nope, it was into the closet, then we heard some high-pitched girly-giggles then silence. We didn’t see him for years. We got word about him once in a while. Heard he took up writing, but it was crap like “The Breakfast Club” only with better music. We couldn’t believe it. Not Charlie. What happened to those aliens with heads he’d sculpted out of wax? Spaceships? Those complex plots? All gone. For what? You guessed it: Girls. Emotions. “Serious fiction.” I tell you, it was like hearing Elvis had left the building. During our two decade exile in the closet, we heard other things about him. He went to college. He wrote a lot, but not much he really liked. We knew it even then. It was like he didn’t dare write science fiction. Some of us had lost hope and just lay there. Others kept vigil, hoping for a day we didn’t dare speak about. Then we heard he’d stopped writing in 1996. Did he come to reclaim us? No. He took up music for ten years or so. He took up yoga. Once in a while, he’d visit us in the closet. But it was half-hearted. His mind was elsewhere. Then one day, he really did come back for us. One second we’re in the dark and the next thing we know we’re in a car headed for Massachusetts. Suddenly we got a whole shelf to ourselves out in broad daylight! Then he bought a bunch of others form some planet called Ebay. He’d just sit and stare at us with that old look. But why were we suddenly back in the picture? He had a wife now, who didn’t mind that he played with us. So what had happened? Turns out he’d never forgotten about those stories. He’d been thinking about all of us and the stories he’d made up and then remembered he’d been a writer once. From the shelf we could see him typing away. Before long he’s got a whole novel together! Then he’s working on another one. Word is there are two more in the planning stages! Some short stories, too! It’s good to see him using his imagination again. Its good to know he never abandoned us. He returned to his true love of science fiction. We hear the stories are pretty good. Someday we’ll get one of the cats to score us a copy of the manuscript. Man, it’s good to be out of the damn closet! --- I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me
    Chang O.C., who is 39 and closing!

    Live by the bacon, die by the bacon.

  7. Even with bacon involved, death by decapitation isn’t all that original.

    But I’m willing to speculate that if everyone wants to keep bugging our host about bacon, he’d be willing to arrange a hot fry pan for them. That would be more original. Or maybe extra crispy. (I’ll give it a miss.)

  8. “You see these magazine articles?” he said, pointing at the files and shaking his head. “I wrote all of those articles, but do they call me Scalzi the Journalist? No.”

    He turned around to the computer glowing gently in the corner. “You see those websites? I built all of those websites, but do they call me Scalzi the Webmaster? No.”

    He walked across the room to the bookcases, beckoning wildly at the shelves. “Those books! I wrote all those books! They don’t call me Scalzi the Author!”

    Stalking, muttering through the house, he arrived at the kitchen. As I, wheezing, arrived back at his side, he lifted one trembling finger to the cat sleeping on top of the fridge, and quavered, “I tape one piece of bacon to one cat….”

  9. changterhune – Before you hear lies from Chang Terhune himself, we thought we’d tell you the truth: without us, his old action figures, he’d be nowhere. He loved science fiction from way back and began reading it at an early age, but it was through us that he acted it all out. That’s what led to the writing. He watched a lot of science fiction shows like Star Trek, U.F.O, and movies, too. But we were always there to do his bidding. And it’s like they say: you always forget about the little people on your way up. Oh, the 70’s and early 80’s with him were good times! He’d use these blocks and make all the crazy buildings for us to be in his stories. I gotta say the kid’s imagination was pretty damn fertile. Oh, he had friends, but they just weren’t into it like him. He was like the Lance Armstrong of action figures. And of science fiction. At first, when he began writing in the eighth grade, we didn’t mind. He still made time for us. And we knew that when he was holding us in his sweaty little hands and he got that far off look in his eye, he’d come back to burying us in the back yard or - god forbid! – blowing us up with firecrackers. But it was worth it for a part in one of those stories. We loved him for it. He kept us around even when we were minus a leg or two - or even a head. In that mind of his, he found a use for all of us. Then he discovered girls. October, 1986. It was like the end of the world. One day we’re standing in the middle of this building block creation he’d pretended was some marble city on a planet near Alpha Centauri and the next we were stuck in a box in the closet. Not even a “See ya later!” Nope, it was into the closet, then we heard some high-pitched girly-giggles then silence. We didn’t see him for years. We got word about him once in a while. Heard he took up writing, but it was crap like “The Breakfast Club” only with better music. We couldn’t believe it. Not Charlie. What happened to those aliens with heads he’d sculpted out of wax? Spaceships? Those complex plots? All gone. For what? You guessed it: Girls. Emotions. “Serious fiction.” I tell you, it was like hearing Elvis had left the building. During our two decade exile in the closet, we heard other things about him. He went to college. He wrote a lot, but not much he really liked. We knew it even then. It was like he didn’t dare write science fiction. Some of us had lost hope and just lay there. Others kept vigil, hoping for a day we didn’t dare speak about. Then we heard he’d stopped writing in 1996. Did he come to reclaim us? No. He took up music for ten years or so. He took up yoga. Once in a while, he’d visit us in the closet. But it was half-hearted. His mind was elsewhere. Then one day, he really did come back for us. One second we’re in the dark and the next thing we know we’re in a car headed for Massachusetts. Suddenly we got a whole shelf to ourselves out in broad daylight! Then he bought a bunch of others form some planet called Ebay. He’d just sit and stare at us with that old look. But why were we suddenly back in the picture? He had a wife now, who didn’t mind that he played with us. So what had happened? Turns out he’d never forgotten about those stories. He’d been thinking about all of us and the stories he’d made up and then remembered he’d been a writer once. From the shelf we could see him typing away. Before long he’s got a whole novel together! Then he’s working on another one. Word is there are two more in the planning stages! Some short stories, too! It’s good to see him using his imagination again. Its good to know he never abandoned us. He returned to his true love of science fiction. We hear the stories are pretty good. Someday we’ll get one of the cats to score us a copy of the manuscript. Man, it’s good to be out of the damn closet! --- I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me
    Chang O.C., who is 39 and closing!

    In the future there will be instant bacon!

    This should be a feature in Zoe’s Tale!

  10. Scalzi, your only solution is to start taping other objects to cats. Once they see your photo album of your dog taped to your cat like some unholy alien hybrid, no one will be talking about a trivial thing like bacon.

  11. I’m kind of bored with the “John loves bacon” routine. It feels like forced quirkiness, and while I love bacon as much as the next guy, it’s really not a particularly interesting preference. I don’t know if that’s John’s point in this post, but that’s what I take from it.

    But I was geek for the bacon wallet, I must confess.

  12. Well, I don’t know. If I were you, I might go with my strength and make this the clearinghouse for all bacon-related information on the internet.

    Think of the potential audience. EVERYBODY loves bacon.

  13. Scalzi – You might have a deadline, but you still have time to tell us not to send you wonderful bacon links _after_ you’ve checked them out. ;-)

    Just saying is all… We know you love the attention ;-)

  14. Tick, tick, tick the deadline approaches. If you make your deadline then bacon be your reward. Failure will result in you having to create a new website not containing bacon, cats or fart jokes. Good luck.

  15. Even with bacon involved, death by decapitation isn’t all that original.

    But I’m willing to speculate that if everyone wants to keep bugging our host about bacon, he’d be willing to arrange a hot fry pan for them. That would be more original. Or maybe extra crispy. (I’ll give it a miss.)

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