Rounding Third And Heading For Home

We're now three-quarters through Blog Love Omega Glee. Glee, the fourth and final part of the novel, starts on October 1st with the chapter that takes place on October 1st. Thanks to everyone who's been reading it in its blog serialization!

Blog Love Omega Glee: If You Haven't Been Offended Yet, Then Please Keep Reading And You Will Be (30 September 2012)

A warm fall day greets the last flea market of the season in Francine's neighborhood. A parking lot near Purgatory hosts twenty or so vendors who have hauled out various assortments of antiques, collectibles, and, um, junk for passerbys to pick through. Mixed in with the more traditional cleaning out the closet vendors are a few eccentrics like the young balding poet who for a dollar will write verse insulting you. As Francine and Jake pass by holding hands, Jake asks Francine, "So, how'd you ever handle Bruce Goose?"

"Your friend, the poet? I just emailed him back and politely told him I didn't publish poetry and wished him the best of luck in placing his poems elsewhere."

"And that was it?"

"Nope. He still sent me more poems. He sent me a whole ebook collection in fact. It was called If You Haven't Been Offended Yet, Then Please Keep Reading And You Will Be."

"And were you?"

"Yes, I was. Not so much by the subject matter but by some of the rhymes. Anyone who still rhymes 'fire' with 'desire' should be beaten with a Doors album."

"I kind of liked the ode he wrote to his penis though."

"He sent you the book as well?"

"Yeah, he emailed me and thanked me for helping him get published. I think that was before you rejected him though. I just hit 'reply', wrote a bunch of email headerlike gobbledygook and pretended the email was one that got bounced back to him. It seems to have worked, I haven't heard from him since."

"Clever."

"Hey! Some old wrestling magazines!" Jake says, drops Francine's hand, and starts rooting through a pile of magazines on a cardtable that is so shaky it appears to be drunk.

"How much?" Jake asks their owner, a man who sits in a lawnchair drinking Mexican beer.

"A dollar each, dude," the man says and then takes a glug of beer.

"Hmm . . ." Jake says, his enthusiasm dropping, though the one with The Waffle Warrior reenacting The Last Supper (retitled The Last Breakfast) on the cover is pretty intriguing.

Sensing a sale slipping south, the man in the lawnchair says, "Dude, I tell you what. I like your taste in reading, so for you, fifty cents a piece. Fuck it, the world's ending soon anyway."

"Uh, thanks," Jake says, and digs out a dollar.

Jake buys the one with The Waffle Warrior cover and another one with The Optimist and The Pessimist on the cover arguing over how much water is in a glass.

Jake thanks the man, and picks up Francine's hand again.

Holding her hand, he doesn't much care what happens to the rest of the world.

Lovers are fucking selfish like that.

Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel.

Blog Love Omega Glee: There Is Something About Print (29 September 2012)

"Put it down! Put it down!" Masani yells, and she and Donald set down the long white cardboard box of comic books on the sidewalk in the middle of the block.

"I can carry it myself, really," Donald says, looking at her sweating and rubbing her left shoulder.

"And give yourself a hernia? No way, dear! I know you lift these things everyday but that's a bit different from carrying them for a couple of blocks. In any case, I'll be fine. I just need to switch hands, which probably means that we need to switch sides."

Masani and Donald switch places. She picks up the longbox with her right hand in the handhold on the left side while Donald picks up the longbox with his left hand in the handhold on the right side. They grunt and head down the block some more. "I can't believe how heavy these things are. Why don't they make smaller boxes?" Masani says.

"Everybody wants to be Superman, I guess," Donald says.

Out of breath, Masani says, "Remind me again why we didn't load them in the car."

"You said it was a nice day and it was only a couple of blocks to Purgatory and we could do with the exercise."

"Oh, that's right. It's at times like this I see the advantage of electronic books. I wish we were carrying an iPad right now instead of this thing."

"I do not know. There is something about print. I do not know if it is the smell of the pages or the feel of them. I love it."

"Well, as long as you don't try to make love to a library or a librarian, I'm cool with that. I like print too, though after this experience I may start reading more ebooks. In any case, I hope there are some others who feel like you do about old comics and Eve has some luck selling them for you on consignment. I still find it hard to believe that you're letting them go."

"I still have thousands of others. Plus are you not the one who always wants me to read more books without pictures in them as well?"

"That would be me, but since I started reading comics too, I haven't said that, Sweetie. The only thing I'd implore you to do is buy smaller boxes for your comics."

"Well, we are almost there."

"Thank God!"

"Oops! Looks like we will have to shift and walk singlefile. There is a pedestrian coming."

"Let's just take another break."

They set the box down. Masani sits on it. "Masani! That is not a park bench! You might damage the comics." Donald says.

Masani gets up. "Sorry, Sweets. You're right. That's not a park bench. For one thing, I bet park benches are lighter."

Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel.

Blog Love Omega Glee: Why Are People Scared Of Falling In The Bathtub But Not Of Falling In Love? (28 September 2012)

With the parents having gone to bed after the news, Jake and Winifred watch a late night tv talk show in the living room while Winifred unwinds from her long drive from Pittsburgh and Jake waits to call Francine good night after her shift at Yaws.

"Sis?"

"Yes, Big Brother?"

"Why do they call it falling in love?"

"What?"

"Why do they call it falling in love?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, does that sound like a good thing?"

"Love? Sure, love's nice. You're a dork, but I love you."

"Not love so much as the falling part. I mean why's the metaphor falling? Does that sound like a good thing? I mean people fall in the bathtub and hit their heads. They fall in pits. They fall in the mud. Why's falling in love a good thing? Why not rising in love? Or flying in love?"

"I guess I've never really thought about it. Um, I guess maybe because the emotions are so strong you can't help it so it's like falling in that way. When you fall, you can't help yourself."

"So love is like a banana peel?"

"What?"

"A banana peel. You know like the old joke where someone slips on a banana peel and everybody laughs."

"Somebody falls down and people laugh. That's kind of mean. I can hardly believe you'd laugh at someone's misfortune, Jake."

"Like you haven't laughed at me the many times I slipped on the ice when we walked to school."

"You're right, when someone falls down, it is pretty funny. Why are mean things funny?"

"I'm thinking the universe is a cruel place and God chuckles at our little misfortunes."

"So to God, all these people running around falling in love is like watching a bunch of people slip on banana peels?"

"Something like that."

"But falling usually means someone gets hurt. So maybe it's a pretty good metaphor. I mean some people fall down and land in something soft and everything's cool, and even they laugh, but other people fall and crack their skulls open, and that's true of love too; there's a lot of heartbreak out there. I'm thinking now that the falling part is a pretty good metaphor. Why'd you ask?"

"Oh, no reason, the commercials were on, and I hate watching them."

"Come on! What's the real reason? Everything all right with Francine?"

"Shhh! The show's back on!"

"You're impossible! I'm going to bed. And don't get any ideas! There better not be a banana peel outside my door in the morning!"

Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel.

Blog Love Omega Glee: The Business Cycle Of Emotional Capitalism (27 September 2012)

Purgatory's deserted when Francine arrives. "Where is everybody?" she says.

Eve looks up from behind the newspaper she's reading at the counter, "Didn't you hear? The stock market crashed again. People are skittish. They're probably brewing their coffee at home today, or if they're really skittish, drinking water. Don't worry, it'll be up tomorrow. The business cycle goes up and down, and all around, just like a bicycle on a merry-go-round."

"So does my lovelife," Francine says, pulling her usual cup off the shelf, "I know that feeling."

"Back with Jake again?" Eve says, filling Francine's cup with today's special: fair trade coffee grown by the homeless in Hawaii who sleep in tents in the shade of their coffee trees and who once a year throw a luau where they roast the beans and a pig who serves as their mascot until it serves as their dinner.

"Maybe," Francine says, looking down.

"I could tell from your hair color. It's usually a good guide to your mood. You're brunette again, huh? Your boyfriend likes brunettes?" Eve says, passing the cup over.

"Stop hassling the breeder, Eve. She won't leave you a tip if you do," Lilith says, bringing a tray of large cookies over from the kitchen.

"Ummmmm, I'll take one of those," Francine says, "They smell good."

"I think I'll take one too on my way back upstairs to sit by myself in the bookstore no one visits," Eve says, grabbing a cookie and kissing Lilith.

"Masani visits it, doesn't she?" Francine says.

"Not as often lately. She must be busy," Eve says, "Unless she's cheating on me with the library."

"Actually, she has a boyfriend," Francine says.

"There must be something going around," Lilith says, leaning against the counter, "Should I get ready to bake some wedding cakes?"

"Yuck!" Francine says.

"What? Is something wrong with the cookie?" Eve says, looking at her own.

"No, the cookie's fine," Francine takes another bite of it.

"Then what?" Eve says.

"The thought of me being married," Francine says, rolling her eyes, "I think marriage is an outdated concept. It's just from when men wanted to own women."

"That's what I keep telling Eve," Lilith says, "That's why I don't care if they ever legalize gay marriage. What business does the state have in people's relationships anyway?"

Eve sighs, "Gay people should have the same right as straight people, and there are a lot of legal advantages to getting married."

"Name one," Lilith says.

"Well, you get a tax break in Ohio if you're married and file jointly," Eve says.

"That's it? If you get married, you save some money on your taxes?" Lilith says.

"Well, it's more than that, Lilith. It's a commitment, a public declaration of a couple's love," Eve says.

"Well, it's none of the public's business who I love. I'm not Kitty O'Couscous having sex on video for everyone to watch. And, by the way, I'm not voting for her just because she's a woman," Lilith says.

"No, you're voting for her because you think she's attractive. I've seen the way you perk up when she comes on the tv," Eve says, taking a deep chomp of her cookie, "By the way, she's for gay marriage; I don't see why you aren't."

"I'm not anti-gay marriage," Lilith yells, "I'm anti-marriage! I don't want to have responsibility without power. It's all economic to the state. If I save and my spouse spends, I still have to pay her debts. No thanks!"

"That's fine for you," Eve says, "But what about the gay people who want to get married and aren't so obsessed with money as you are. Shouldn't they have that right?"

"What? The right to stuff themselves into a misogynistic prison?" Lilith says.

Having heard this argument before, Francine heads upstairs to finish her cookie in peace.

Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel.

Blog Love Omega Glee: The People Who Delight In Saying That Wrestling's Fake Always Think That Politics Are Real (26 September 2012)

"Don't tell Masani, but I'm going to open the window and have a smoke," Francine says, dragging the sheet off the bed.

It's after the afterglow, and Jake lies there naked, "Hey! It's a bit nippy this evening!"

Francine arches an eyebrow and says, "After that, you should have worked up a sweat. You'll be fine."

Jake gets out of bed and looks for his boxer-briefs, "Can we turn on a light?"

"No," Francine replies as she simultaneously juggles lighting a cigarette and opening the window.

"I thought you quit smoking anyway," Jake says, looking under the bed.

"I quit every day," Francine says, looking out the window at a nearby tree, "I just start up again every day too."

"Ah, found them!" Jake says, pulling his underwear from under the bed, "So, did you watch the debate last night?"

"They didn't really have one. They just had infomercials for different candidates on different channels."

"Oh, that's what my dad was talking about. I didn't understand what he meant when he said he had to keep switching channels to hear what the candidates said," Jake says, putting his underwear on, "That was right after he told me wrestling was fake for the millionth time."

"I bet the people who delight in saying that professional wrestling's fake all think politics is real," Francine laughs, "But they're damn near the same thing. The politicians are all controlled by the same rich corporations and people."

"Oh, c'mon, there's a big difference between O'Couscous and Dick. That's real."

"Yes, but she'd never win. The black ops people would kill her even if she did. What's the difference between Dick and Polipo? What's the difference between being shot with a blue bullet or a red bullet? Nothing really."

"Well, the bloodstains might not show up as easily on the red one maybe, but, yeah, I know what you mean, those two are kind of depressing. There really doesn't seem to be much difference between them. They both seem to love stupid wars and helping out the rich at the expense of everyone else. So as much as I can't stand Dick, it's hard to get excited about Polipo. I'll probably vote for O'Couscous even though she seems like kind of an airhead."

"The differences between the major candidates are always small, but they make a big deal about them and rally their bases on that basis. I mean Dick wants to let the pharmaceutical companies charge the government whatever they want for Medicare drugs whereas Polipo wants them to slow down the rate at which they raise their prices. No one ever talks about just having the government buy the drugs cheap in bulk or getting out of the health care business altogether or going in whole hog and cutting out all the greedy middlemen."

"Don't forget the greedy middlewomen."

"Speaking of that," Francine says, finishing her cigarette early, "I'm feeling a bit greedy myself so get those undies back off and get back in that bed, boy."

Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel.

Nobel Season Is Upon Us!

With autumn rapidly approaching, this year's winner of the world's most prestigious literary award, The Nobel Prize In Literature, will soon be announced. Last year's winner was Herta Muller, a European writer. Shortly before last fall's announcement, I wrote the following article to warm up for doing some freelancing again (by the way, I'm still freelancing so if you have any editing/proofreading/writing needs, then please get in touch--no, I'm not so desperate that I'll shave your back or something; writing-related work only please). The article was never published though, and I came across it the other day and thought that I'd run it here since sadly it still remains relevant. Let's hope that some day it won't be!

Horace Engdahl Was Right

Last autumn, Horace Engdahl, then permanent secretary of the Swedish Academy, the group charged with selecting the Nobel Prize in Literature, stated that the reason the United States has not produced a Nobel laureate in literature since 1993 was that "The U.S. is too isolated, too insular. They don't translate enough and don't really participate in the big dialogue of literature. That ignorance is restraining."

Secretary Engdahl's frankness was met with a reaction from Americans that ranged from hostile to patronizing. David Remnick, editor of The New Yorker, sniffed that the Academy just didn't recognize great literature when it read it, citing Joyce, Proust, and Nabokov as examples of lionized literary legends unrecognized by the Swedes, and Harold Augenbraum of the National Book Foundation offered to send Engdahl a summer reading list so he could brush up on his American literature.

A few days later, Engdahl, seemingly surprised by the reaction by this spasm of nationalistic pride by the Yankee literati, reassured American writers who still harbored dreams of winning the large European prize that he wasn't prejudiced against Americans: "It is of no importance, when we judge American candidates, how any of us views American literature as a whole in comparison with other literatures."

A few months later, Engdahl quietly turned over the permanent secretary position to fellow member Peter Englund. One wonders if the furor his words raised had anything to do with his decision.

Nevertheless, in their rush to malign Engdahl and make snide remarks about value of the Nobel in literature, defenders of American literature overlooked an important aspect of Engdahl's comments.

He was right.

In fact, if anything, Engdahl put things mildly. American literature today isn't so much insular as it is inbred.

First of all, in recent decades, higher education has placed a stranglehold on it. While the market for literature seems to decline (the National Endowment for the Arts reported that the percentage of adults who read a book other than for work or school dropped yet again in 2008), creative writing Masters of Fine Arts programs continue to grow. Though universities seem happy to take the money of these aspiring Hemingways, we as a society cannot seem to find a need for these newly-pedigreed writers afterward beyond having them teach creative writing to more aspiring Hemingways (and perhaps the occasional Faulkner as well). At some point, like with all games of musical chairs, the music will stop. And, even for those who find a chair, when they're seeking tenure, how daring as writers will they be, and if they're not daring writers, how can they be expected to ever be worthy of the Nobel?

Unfortunately, the number of charitable organizations and government bureaucracies outside of higher education that support writers don't seem to be much help either. If anything, they contribute to the inbreeding since most of the award panels are composed of writers who seem to award other writers on the basis of friendship rather than merit. Rick Moody once served on a panel which awarded his friend Jonathan Franzen $20,000 from the NEA as a creative writing fellowship. This was, of course, in 2002, the year after Franzen's novel The Corrections had already become a bestseller. Apparently, Moody and the other committee members believed Franzen still needed the taxpayer money.

Perhaps this cozy give and take (mostly take) emerges because of the continuing concentration of American publishing in New York City, which is another reason American literature remains inbred. In fact, in 2004, all five of the fiction finalists for the National Book Award lived in New York City. This was pointed out as a cute fact in the press release by the NBF, but served as confirmation that what we have is a regional literature masquerading as a national literature.

Of course, most Americans don't even notice what's become of the national literature. If they're reading at all, they're reading about sexy vampires who prefer to eat bears to humans or about Ivy league academics foiling Masonic conspiracies in the nation's capital, and not the sort of material Engdahl and his American critics sparred over. Not surprisingly, the publishing industry follows suit, preferring to spend money on publishing novels by soap opera actresses and other celebrities instead of books by authors who can actually read (not to mention write).

All of these factors combine to intensify the inbreeding and consequently make the chances of an American author winning the Nobel less each year.

There is hope however. Good literature can be found in America, but one has to dig. It's produced occasionally from the commercial publishers, nurtured by university presses, even written by MFAs who've decided to develop their own style, and, most of all, rooted in the underground of the independent small press, including self-publishers. All of this, however, rests far beneath the notice of the average newspaper book review editor, an endangered species themselves, so it's unlikely Engdahl and the rest of the Swedish Academy even know such writers exist. In any case, writers such as Alabama's scruffy but delightful Karl Koweski generally have bigger problems to worry about than not being nominated for a Nobel.

On Thursday, the 2009 recipient will be announced. Assuming the Academy doesn't toss American literati a bone in order to apologize for Engdahl's honesty, it will be yet another year without a Nobel in Literature for an American. But, unless Americans stop blaming the messenger for revealing some unwelcome truths and look honestly at the message itself, this may only be the beginning of a long Nobel drought for American literature.

Blog Love Omega Glee: America: New And Improved And Now With More Moral Fiber (25 September 2012)

When Kitty O'Couscous, according to most accounts, won the first presidential debate, the Commission On Presidential Debates (otherwise known as stooges installed by the Dems and Repubs) raised the polling percentage for a candidate's inclusion in the debate from 15% to 20% in hopes of preventing her from participating in the next debate. When O'Couscous started polling 20%, they raised it to 25%. When she hit 25%, they raised it to 30%, but then realized this would bar Dick from participating, even when citing the fake polls he controls, so they decided to cancel the whole thing. So tonight, instead of the planned debate, each candidate has instead bought her or his own infomercial on different channels, and Masani and Francine flip through them while sitting on the couch. "Those debates were pretty bad anyway. All the candidates did was offer soundbites while smarmy journalists threw softball questions," Francine says, reaching for more popcorn.

"I don't even know why I'm bothering to watch these. It's not like I'm not going to vote for Polipo. There really isn't an alternative," Masani says, sighing.

"You mean you aren't going to vote for the porn star? I like her plan for world peace," Francine says, laughing.

"You mean her offer to fuck the dictators of the world if they gave up pursuing weapons of mass destruction?" Masani snorts, "Let's see what Dick's doing. Maybe he'll make a similar offer. After all, he's been screwing the poor for his entire career."

She changes the channel and the screen shows Dick dancing, or as close to dancing as a soft drink vending machine can get, with a giant can of Poca-Cola. The announcer blares, "That's right! Vote for Dick and get a free case of Poca-Cola!"

"Is that legal?" Masani asks.

"I don't think Dick worries about the law too much," Francine says, picking up the remote control to switch to Polipo's infomercial, which shows the balding Italian-American pol bonding with working families in a nauseating display of warm and fuzzy images.

Then there's an ad for a trial lawyer. "Have you been in an accident? Have you been hurt at work? Have you ever sneezed and wanted to sue ragweed or your neighbor's cat? Well, if so, call . . ."

Francine flips over to O'Couscous's infomercial, which shows the woman herself looking stunning in a leopardprint miniskirt and not much else and complaining that "The presidency doesn't pay much, so I'll be taking a major paycut, so if any of you could order my DVDs or online videostreams, that'd be like cool because if I don't have to worry about money I can keep my mind on the task at hand like paying down the national debt. Personally, I think the thing is so big, we might want to just declare bankruptcy and start over. I think the United Nations has a bankruptcy court for nations. Now I know that might upset some people but if we print up too much money we'll crash the economy anyway and I don't think you want to pay higher taxes and give up the lifestyle you've become accustomed to just to pay off some silly promises some spendthrift politicians made decades ago, do you? Fuck that! I had a boyfriend once who expected me to pay all his credit card bills just because I made more money than him. I was like 'I didn't drink all those drinks at the bar' and 'I didn't buy all those expensive shirts that I told you not to buy. Pay up, bitch!' . . ."

Masani gets up, shuts the tv off, and turns to Francine, "We really are doomed, aren't we?"

Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel.

Blog Love Omega Glee: Bogged Down And Blogged Up (24 September 2012)

Jake would like to tell the world that he got laid last night, but since he's not a kiss and teller, he instead writes about The Waffle Warrior's big upcoming match against Page Turner. He does so without enthusiasm though. He's been posting less and less lately. Partly that's because his new part-time teaching gig feels more like a full time gig with all the preparation he has to do, and partly that's because he just hasn't felt like posting anything. Not even Blog Update Guilt can get him posting these days. About all he wants to do is moon over Francine, so that's what he does, daydreaming for long stretches of time, staring out a window at some infinity of the imagination.

It's enough to make a reader of his blog irate, but they seem to content themselves with reading one of the billions of other blogs out there. For Jake himself, he realizes that maybe the need he had to do a blog had passed, had been filled, his social media hole satiated, at least for the moment. He thinks about just deleting his blog and walking away from it all, pretending it never existed, but he's too fond of it to do that, so the poor thing just sits there neglected, like a toy that's been forgotten by a child that outgrew it, except for the occasional poor pity post such as this lame one about The Waffle Warrior's match.

"Heel Turn Ahead! I don't think for a moment that we're going to see a rare face vs. face match at the Halloween Hardcore Hootenanny pay per view. Someone is going to turn heel. But who will it be? The Waffle Warrior or The Reader? The smart money's betting on The Reader, but maybe the WWWWWW will surprise us and turn the Breakfast Battler villainous. We've seen some signs of that lately. Look at how he recently viciously toasted Speller B in that giant toaster. Of course, it could all be a swerve and he will continue to swig the syrup of justice, but the good point is that the WWWWWW's writers actually have me guessing for once instead of being able to predict the outcome of championship matches months in advance. And that means it's a good time to be a wrestling fan!"

Unfortunately, with boring posts such as that, it's a bad time to be a reader of Two Out Of Three Falls.

Jake thinks about doing another kind of blog, maybe a personal blog, or, with the presidential election in full swing, a political blog like Francine's . . .

. . . ah, Francine, he thinks and stares off into space for a half an hour with naked memories and caked fantasies playing in his head.

When he shakes his reverie, he turns back to blogging, but not his own, to Francine's. She's just posted something about how she thinks Osamama BinBin LaLaLaden, the terrorist mastermind who has eluded the U.S. government's best efforts to capture him for more than a decade, is really a character portrayed by a swarthy Hollywood B-movie actor named Leo Ahmore who gets trotted out as LaLalaladen whenever the government needs to distract the populace from realizing how much of their wealth gets hoovered up into the hands of war profiteers and the politicians who love them.

Jake has no idea what she's rattling on about it the post, nor does he care. He just thinks, "She's so cute!"

Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel.

Blog Love Omega Glee: Corporate Creeps From The Last Decade (23 September 2012)

"All I remember is Enron because my junior high social studies teacher used to complain about them constantly," Jake says, lying in bed with Francine, "I think he had stock in them and lost a lot of money. He was very bitter."

"You don't remember Worldcom, or Lehman Brothers, or any of the other creepy corporations that went under last decade?" Francine says, feeling an early autumn chill from the open window and pulling the sheet up.

"Nope! But I bet I can name all the World Heavyweight Champs from the last decade in order. Can you do that?" Jake says, sticking out his tongue.

Francine hits him with a pillow, "Don't you pay attention to anything but wrestling? Those greedy corpos nearly bankrupted the entire country."

"I pay attention to you," Jake says, then gulping realizing how sappy it sounded.

"Oh, geez," Francine says, rolling over onto her back, "Don't get any ideas! We're still just friends."

"I never do this with North," Jake mumbles.

"You would have if you were gay," Francine says, then rolls back towards him, "OK, maybe just special friends do this."

"'Special friends'?" Jake says, "That's what we are?"

"What do you want? To get married? You know what that is, don't you? It's a business deal. Lovers get greedy for each other's love and want it all so they tie themselves up in legal knots. It's like becoming a corporation."

"You were going to get married once though, weren't you?"

"Yes, when I was younger and dumber. Thank God that didn't work out!" Francine shakes her head, "What about you and what's her face?"

"Jackson?"

"Yes."

"We talked about it once in a while, but I think we were both too busy with school to really think past the next semester. That would have been a disaster anyway."

"Don't worry, they're all disasters whether people admit it or not. Marriage is an outdated concept. When women didn't work and men worried about having legitimate heirs to inherit their property it might have had some merit, but it's useless today."

"You really believe that?"

"Yes."

Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel.

Blog Love Omega Glee: This Championship Is Under Construction (22 September 2012)

A bit sad that Ringo had to go back on the road and won't be able to watch Grapple Groove again with him this week, Jake tunes in to see Martin "The Smart One" Black introduce his latest tag team The Department Of Transportation. Wearing yellow hard hats and carrying an orange construction barrel with them to the ring, Black's latest charges square off against the tag team of The Buff Barrister and his butler Mr. Wodehouse. The announcer Felix Fatality tells his broadcast partner Steve Dore, "I asked Black about these guys earlier today and he said that he's so confident in these two that the road to the championship is already under construction."

Dore groans, "Does that guy ever run out of corn? Well, let's see how they do against Barrister and Wodehouse, who since forming as a tag team have been very impressive."

"That's right, Steve, after all potholes can't put you in a headlock, Barrister and Wodehouse can."

"What's the story on these guys anyway?"

"Well, they're a pair of former road construction workers I guess who figure working in the ring is easier than working in the hot sun grinding out asphalt."

"There's the bell, and the match begins. It's . . . let's see . . . which one is this? . . . I think this is 'Dump Truck'."

"Dump Truck? The guy's name is Dump Truck?"

"Yep! And his partner's Paver. He's the one talking with Black outside the ring. It looks like he's eating his lunch too for some reason."

"It looks like they're watching Dump Truck, who's doing pretty well. He just picked up Mr. Wodehouse and dumped him down in a powerful scoop slam."

"Wodehouse has tagged out and it looks like Dump--can I call him that?--is having a bit more trouble with The Buff Barrister. The Barrister is squeezing Dump's head with The Statute Of Limitations.'

"The Barrister loves to drag things out and make his opponents suffer before they submit. It looks like he could get the win now. What's Dump's partner doing? His partner's in trouble and he isn't even on the ring apron. He's just standing there talking with Black and watching Dump work."

"Just like the real Department of Transportation, huh? Anytime I drive by road construction, there's one guy working and ten other guys standing around watching him."

"Well, quick tags now between Barrister and Wodehouse who seem to be taking delight in being able to dump out punishment on top of Dump. The ref should really call this match."

"Can you really call it a tag team when only one guy wrestles?"

"Well, it looks like Black's finally succeeded in getting Paver into the ring to help his partner. He looks like he's finished his lunch and tossed the bag aside. Now, he's looking for something in that orange barrel they brought down to ringside. It looks like he's found it. He's pulled something out. What is it?"

"It looks like another lunch. He's eating his partner's lunch, I think! He probably figures that Dump Truck would be in no mood to eat after the beating he's getting."

"Black is yelling at him to get in the ring before The Barrister and Wodehouse put away his partner, but Paver's pointing at his wristwatch and telling Black something. What's he saying?"

"I think he's saying that he's still on his lunch break."

"Well, he better hurry up because his opponents look like they're about to break his partner."

"OK, Paver's finally climbing onto the ring. He's got ahold of the tag rope. All he needs now is a tag from his partner. But can Dump get away from Mr. Wodehouse and reach his partner?"

"No. He just got pinned."

"It looks like Black's new tag team might be named The Department Of Transportation, but they're going nowhere."

"Indeed, Black needs to hang up an 'Under Construction' sign and take them back to the gym."

"Poor Dump Truck never got to unload much offense."

"And that Paver needs to get his understanding of tag team wrestling smoothed out."

"They fine you double when you speed through a construction zone; they should fine these guys double for making the fans sit through such an awful match."

"You know those guys who hold up the stop sign when a road is reduced to one lane and the traffic takes turns going through?"

"Yep!"

"Well, they should have had one of those guys at ringside to let Paver know when to tag his partner."

Mercifully, the bad puns end when a commercial come on.

Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel.

Blog Love Omega Glee: When You Hear The Words "National Security", Hide Your Money (21 September 2012)

"I am definitely voting for O'Couscous. If I have to look at the stupid president for the next four years on the news, it can at least be someone hot for once," Manuel says, while frying up some donuts sprinkled with rosemary in the kitchen of Yaws.

Turning from chopping up a Polish boy--the sandwich not an Eastern European child--and wrapping it in arugula, Ritchie says, "No way, dude! Just because a chick's hot doesn't mean you give her nuclear weapons. I mean what does she know about national security?"

Francine taps her fingers on a counter waiting for the rest of her table's orders and says, "You're just being sexist. What do you know about national security, Ritchie?"

Ritchie points the tip of his knife at himself and says, "I'm not running for president. She is."

"Zing!" Rasheed says, picking up some dishes to throw in the dishwasher.

"Touche," Francine says, "In any case, whenever I hear the words 'national security' I hide my purse because usually the politicians just use it as an excuse to scare the taxpayers into coughing up more money for the politicians and their buddies the war profiteers."

"Ah, shit, here we go again. Should I get out your soapbox, Frannie?" Manuel says, digging beaneath the counter to pull out a milkcrate.

"That's a milkcrate," Ritchie says.

"It's an expression, idiot!" Manuel says, putting the milkcrate by Francine, who stands up on it.

"I'm not the one voting a porn star president," Ritchie sniffs and starts cutting onions.

Francine starts to give a semi-mock speech about the national security state and its negative effect on the real economy and the average American--"And, did you ever notice that whenever the president's in trouble politically, they trot out a terrorist to distract everyone?"--when Michael the manager walks through the swinging doors.

Rasheed looks up from loading dishes in the dishwasher and says, "I want you to know I had nothing to do with this."

Michael just shakes his head and says, "I don't even want to know but when I get back from the office, table 7 better be eating."

He heads to the office and Francine gets off her soapbox and gets her tray ready. Manuel throws the milkcrate back under the counter, while Ritchie sings "Busted!"

"Who are you voting for anyway, Francine?" Manuel says, back at the fryer.

"I haven't decided yet. The Libertarian candidate dropped out so I may actually vote for O'Couscous too."

"All right!" Manuel celebrates, "What about you, Ritchie?"

"It doesn't matter. The world's going to end later this year anyway."

"Oh, God," Francine says, as she leaves with her tray.

"And you were bitching me out about voting for a porn star? What about you, Rasheed?"

"I'm voting for the candidate who promises to shut you all the fuck up and let me work in peace."

Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel.