Trick Candles

Friends,

With my government economic stimulus tax relief (or $1,200 free American dollars) I bought Sloane Crosley's essay book, I Thought There'd Be Cake among other things. Right now it has usurped the short story anthology that had been my bathroom book (and I was just getting to the Mary Gaitskill story A Romantic Weekend), and I've only finished one essay so far, but so far my impression is that its going to be a light read, which is appropriate too considering that the book truly is light. Find a copy, pick it up, it is truly feathery. But I expect it to take up residence next to my copy of Candy Girl as a nice, light entertainment, you know, a little twee, but a ultimately not the worst way to spend an afternoon (should I include Diablo Cody & Sloane Crosley as part of my luscious ladies of letters calendar...but what awful first names, Diablo & Sloane...one pretentious, the other entitled...seriously Sloane is the name of a the neighbor girl in a sitcom not a real person).

Anyway, Crosley's second essay in her book starts out about how her parents are overly concerned about their house burning down. Not exactly unreasonable I don't think, as I too worry about my apartment complex burning to the ground because of some dumbass undergrad chucking a smoldering roach into a bucket of oily rags, but whatever, it's her essay universe (BTW, just as I typed this, the fire alarm in my building went off...no kidding). And she mentions a thing about birthday candles and trick candles specifically. Which got me thinking about trick candles and my experience with them.

Aren't trick candles crude jokes? Not because of the kid puffing and puffing away on them, but you tell a kid "Make a wish, Jimmy!" and the kid blows and blow never to extinguish the candles, essentially denying their wish. What lesson are trick candles teaching our youths? "The deck is stacked against you and you will struggle to get what you want for years before you realize that it was all a big joke." Maybe trick candles really are training wheels for the struggle of life, but we don't see the joke until we die and we get the light, the tunnel, our dead relatives waving hello, and then Jesus, glorious light around him, and he says, "Ha ha. Gotcha!" "And then you'd say, "Got me what?" And Jesus will say, "It's not funny if I got to explain it." And then you'd say, "Come on, Jesus. Don't keep secrets." And he'll say, "Well, look at it this way. You've been farting for 80 years. Get it now?" So you'll say, "So life's a fart joke?" And he'll say, "Oh, absolutely not. Sometimes people get kicked in the balls or fall down. Why do you think we let people age? Tumbling seniors is hilarious."

On an unrelated note, I was talking with Diana about her upcoming book and I asked if she was going to make one of those online book commercials for it, and she wasn't sure, mostly because of the commercial for Crosley's essay collection. I don't blame Diana, as this really is hilt-deep twee.


However, there are awesome book commercials that make you want to run out and buy the book, or maybe the commercial even exceeds the greatness the book could possible be. Take this one for the book Shock Doctrine, about how government's take advantage disasters to pass terrible laws by preying on the fear of the constituents in the face of the disaster. It's directed by Alfonso Cuaron (the guy who did Children of Men, Y Tu Mama Tambien, and the good Harry Potter movie)...also, be warned, it has footage of someone from the 1940's getting electro-shock treatment:


I don't know what kind of commercial Diana's could be, but I think it could bridge the gap between twee and Errol Morris. And making it could be fun. What do you think? If you were going to design a book commercial for Diana, what would you put in it?

viva el mustache