Life's Little Injustices (Take XV): Notebook For Your Thoughts, Anyone?

Strange things happen once your income drops. One side effect is all the people coming out of the woodwork, who can't wait to help you. No, you read that right. That's not a misprint. Let me share my latest experience, and you'll see what I mean.

Due to our present status (or lack thereof), The Squawker and I belong local food co-op. Well, it's basically a food bank, run by one of our local churches, which means you show up twice a month for meetings, and pay $6 to pick up your food. 

This is the only food bank I've seen that gives you meats, which has never happened anywhere else, and you also get lots of staples -- eggs, fresh veggies, plus a commodities box -- which has all definitely helped fill our larder. It's a notch up from what we usually get.

Since it's a church, the less welcome part is the "Life 101" aspect, as I call it. Usually, that means brief lectures from a nurse or doctor at the hospital (Did you get your flu shot today?, and so on). Last week turned out a little different, though.

We had a different guest last week, though -- somebody talking about money management. "Okay, brace yourself, Squawker," I said, under my breath. "This better be good."

And it was, but unintentionally so. The woman (let's call her Pollyana Pennypacker) focused on tracking your spending, which seems reasonable enough. Then she held up the notebook (see Exhibit A above).

"I had a woman who couldn't pay her light bill," Pollyanna said. "It was $69. She said, 'I don't eat out.' Then she said, 'Well, I went to McDonald's, but that's not eating out.' We went through her receipts, and it turned out, she'd spent that $69 on little trips like that. So, whatever you do, write it down. Then you won't spend it!"

Pollyanna then began passing out little notebooks, which the church was apparently giving us, so we wouldn't even think of straying to the counter for that $1 McChicken. 

I don't know how many $1 McChickens will send you down the Freeway To Financial Hell. In our household, we've never seen a light bill under $100. Or a phone bill under $90. Or an insurance bill under $190, to keep our eight- and 15-year-old cars street legal.
 
I took the notebook, though, to be polite. But I couldn't resist the urge to crack wise. Once our meeting ended, I cornered Pollyanna in the church parking lot. "Thanks for the advice," I said, "but you know something? If I'd known you guys were giving me a notebook, I wouldn't have bought one of my own, for a buck."

Pollyanna didn't miss a beat. "Where do you think these came from?" She held up a stack of unissued notebooks. "You can get four of these for a buck at Dollartree."

I forced a smile, thinking about last Sunday, when I didn't have a dime to misspend, even if I'd wanted to, because we had to drop those last 20 bucks for lunch and dinner. I had more money coming Monday, but even so, I didn't appreciate the aggravation.

"Yeah," I said, "I know all about Dollartree. It's made a difference to our budget. We're regulars there, almost every other day, because..." I let the sentence hang in the air, as Pollyanna hurried to palm off another of those notebooks. My salvation still lay a long way off, it seemed. Some days, it just doesn't pay to talk to strangers. --The Reckoner

Unseen Skit #2: "Flags Of Unknown Nations"

 

<If the US ever invades, here's one obscure ensign you might see on the six 'clock news:
Flag of the Venezuelan National Guard, 
 or Fuerzas Armadas de Cooperacio

("Armed Forces of Cooperation"): catchy, eh?>

<https://www.crwflags.com>

Picking up from my last post ("Unseen Skit #1: Academic Distraction"), here's my other contribution to the sketch comedy world. As I've mentioned, I wrote both of those efforts for a comedy show that a friend suggested as a possible new outlet.  It all sounded promising, until the usual show biz upheavals overtook the program, and scuttled our momentum. Hell, I never even made it to one writer's meeting. 

Anyway, just read the last post for details, which I'm not rehashing here. Like my other skit, "Academic Distraction," I've made some changes to improve the flow. I cut jokes about the Egyptian and Tunisian flags, which reflects the original time frame when "Flags" was written (January 28, 2011, as the Arab Spring was breaking out in North Africa, generally, and both those countries, in particular). Those jokes rambled on for a page, an eternity in TVland, so you're not missing anything there. I know I'm not.

I also tightened and polished a few lines here or there, but otherwise, you're reading about 80 percent of what I came up with originally. Now that I've dusted them off my desk -- where they've sat undisturbed for nearly a decade -- and had a chance to read them objectively, I'd honestly consider "Academic Distraction" the sharper, more focused effort.

That makes sense, because I wrote "Flags Of Unknown Nations" first, if I recall correctly -- it has a good premise, and some good lines, but definitely needed more polish to make it into a killer skit. Still, I enjoyed the experience, even if I never actually saw the finished product. I learned a good lesson: writing comedy isn't as simple as people often like to make out. 

I'm reminded of a quote by some high profile comedian (whose name escapes me, alas), that comedy is like math. It works or it doesn't, only the audience doesn't forgive if you get the answer wrong. Nobody wants the "Saturday Night '80" experience, when excruciating silences often greeted the crappy jokes that its cast struggled to deliver. 

Charles Rocket, in particular, suffered most -- not only from his notorious f-bomb outburst that brought him and his fellow castmates down, but his unimpressive turn on "Weekend Update," where he often came across like a wooden Indian, despite having worked as a news anchor. Go figure, eh?

Anyway, make up your own mind: "Flags Of Unknown Nations" follows below. Even so, I wouldn't mind taking another crack at the sketch comedy world, though it probably won't hurt if you take me to lunch first...and if you pick up the check, I definitely won't stop you. Producers, take note! --The Reckoner
  

VOICEOVER

(CUE: Pretentious orchestral theme in background.)

Some people collect coins. Others yearn for stocks or stamps. Here at Blindsided Broadcasting, we're after memorabilia from countries that just slide right off the front page radar. Yes, it's time again for: Flags...Of...Unknown...Nations!

(CUT TO: ANNOUNCER at desk, holding newscast script.)

Hi,I'm Mea Culpa, and without further ado, let's run down this week's favorite unknown nations. Our first flag is...Tuvalu!

ANNOUNCER gestures at empty screen behind him/her.) C'mon, let's get a bit quicker on the draw here! (TUVALU's flag appears.) Right, that's more like it.

Boasting a mere 11,298 residents and 10 square miles, Tuvalu is slowly sinking under the Pacific Ocean, thanks to its never-ending series of environmental pressures, like bleached coral, shrinking fish populations, and an unstable shoreline...no comeback for Tuvalu on this show, I'm afraid. 

Blame it on those pesky computer models, right? Right! And now, let's hear it for...Iceland!

 

(ICELAND's flag appears onscreen.)
 

(CUT TO: ANNOUNCER at desk.)

 ANNOUNCER

Best known as the home of Bjork -- that funny woman who sings to fax machines -- nobody paid much attention when Iceland's banking system collapsed in 2008, until its furious government jailed all of those executives it held responsible!

In the US, they took home $800 million that they didn't have to give back. Just goes to show, what happens in Iceland, stays in Iceland. 

And now, least but not least, with a population of 10.2 million, a universal healthcare system, and the third largest pop music market after America, and Japan, let's hear it for this fast rising up and comer -- Sweden!

(SWEDISH FLAG appears onscreen.)

 

(IRATE MAN storms onto set,
 waving a clipboard,

impatiently gesturing for
 ANNOUNCER to stop.) 

 PRODUCER

Mea, what the hell are you doing? We went over this last week -- Sweden's hardly an unknown nation! You can't sneak your politics into this show, and get away with it!

ANNOUNCER

(Shrugs off PRODUCER's tirade, and rattles back into his script.)

Although it's given us great crime novelists like Steig Larsson, and Henning Mankell, Sweden's found plenty of other ways to stand out in the global crowd: no death penalty, an 80%-plus unionization rate, three weeks' paid vacation, plus eight weeks' maternity leave, none of which are found in the US...let's hear for this week's favorite unknown nation...Sweden!

(CUE: Canned applause.)

(PRODUCER slams clipboard on desk.)

 PRODUCER

Boy, when you screw up, you really screw up. How many times have I told you -- stick to the script, stick to the script?

(ANNOUNCER gets up from behind desk, and stands in front of PRODUCER.)

ANNOUNCER

Well, I'm afraid that's all the time we have this week for "Flags Of Unknown Nations." Don't forget to click the link on your screen at home, and vote for your favorite off the grid or obscure country. 

PRODUCER

(Facing camera): Don't worry, and don't bother, because we'll have someone else sitting behind this desk next week. Right, Mea?

ANNOUNCER

(Pulling a gun from his suit coat)

Not if I can help it. You haven't given me a day off all year, I'm still waiting on that raise, and this is the only prime time hosting gig I get. I might as well be living in Tuvalu!

PRODUCER

Is that thing loaded? (ANNOUNCER nods.) Wow, all the time I've known you, Mea -- I never took you for a Second Amendment freak.

ANNOUNCER

(Points gun at PRODUCER.)

Well, things have changed. And they're going to change here -- staring with that vacation. And that raise.

(Turning to camera:) Well, that does it for this week's edition of "Flags Of Unknown Nations." I've got some business to discuss with my boss here.

But remember, if we're not covering your country, you're perfectly unknown, as far we're concerned...so you just might show up here.

(CUE: Pompous orchestral music. PRODUCER begins to slowly back away from desk, as he drops his clipboard, and breaks into a run, with ANNOUNCER chasing him in circles around desk.

(FADE OUT.)