November 21, 2009 by jamesessj
I’d like to begin this blog with a question — or, I should say, those few words, and these, and then this question: who cares what I think?
The answer is likely to return a resounding “Nobody,” which is why it’s taken me such a very long time to get around to writing a blog, despite my aspirations to writer-hood. But the fact that Nobody Cares hasn’t seemed to put much of a dent in the efforts of every single other blogger out there, so it finally occurred to me, why have I let it put a dent in mine? And not just a dent, either, but a major impact, so severe that the car wouldn’t even start.
The other question I had (and have) about blogging is, What if it interferes with my ACTUAL writing? I mean, lots of bloggers blog daily, or bidaily at the least — do I want to take that much time out of my hectic writerly schedule to write and post blogs that, as we’ve already established, Nobody Cares about?
The other other question I had (and, yes, have) about blogging is, Do I have that much to say? Related to my single-other question above, if I’m posting on any sort of regular basis, I will need to have — as a rough estimate — 100 things a year to say. That’s if I post once every 3.65 days, which, even as I type it, scares the atheist right out of me — honestly, do I have one hundred things a year to write about?
The answer, as any other self-obsessed narcissist could tell you, is Yes, Yes, A Million Times Yes.
So I’m writing a blog. I believe the best advice I can give to those of you reading is, Lean back, relax, and think of Andrew Sullivan. It’ll all be over in two or three minutes.
(That’s what my dentist used to tell me, starting about two or three minutes in, and then continuing every five minutes or so for the next three hours the procedure would take. What in the world was he thinking? That his chair was some sort of temporal vortex? That once you sat down you lost all track of time? Well, he was right, and not just about his chair, but every dentist’s chair, but he had it backwards — as anybody (except my dentist, apparently) knows, time doesn’t speed up, but rather slows to an unholy crawl in a dentist’s chair, while you’re reclined with your mouth stretched beyond natural barriers and he hovers over you like a malevolent kite. You could read War and Peace while you’re getting a cavity filled and when you turned the final page there’d still be “two or three minutes to go.” You could travel to the Andromeda Galaxy and back while getting a routine cleaning and when you touched down there’d still be “two or three minutes to go.”
It almost makes me want to spend the eight years it requires to become a dentist just so I can reverse our positions and hover over him in the chair, non-reassuringly chirping those magical words every time he flinches in agonizing pain, “Two or three minutes to go!”)
Anyway, a brief word about the title of this blog — it comes from this exchange of dialogue in the 1938 film “Vivacious Lady,” starring Jimmy Stewart and Ginger Rogers:
Older, Annoying Lady: I’m going to give you a piece of my mind!
Younger Lady: Oh, I couldn’t take the last piece!
This is Wit — Wit of a very high order, of the sort that’s rarely on display these days, either in Hollywood or anywhere else. The writers credited for the screenplay are two gents named P.J. Wolfson and Ernest Pagano, but this being Hollywood, it could have been anyone from the director to the back-up grip who was responsible for the line — whoever it was, they provided a veritable Everest of Wit, a summit for the rest of us to strive for.
My own writing is a constant attempt to attain such heights; I have faith that one day I’ll succeed. Hold your breath along with me, won’t you?
(Oh, if you’d like to buy my novel, it’s available at: