Monday Big Words Update! Week 32 on Stands/Week 31 right here!

July 2, 2007

     Monday finds us all again, which can mean only one thing: A new issue of Night Life magazine with a brand new ‘Big Words I Know By Heart’ column!  I was incorrect when I wrote in yesterday’s post that ‘Mama, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Into Fat Gamers’ went in this week.  After checking my records, it appears as if ‘Alert & Erect’ (regarding my morning routine) popped in today.  So pick it up on stands!  I’m also going to enclose last week’s column, ‘Feedback Distortion’ for your enjoyment.  So enjoy it, goddamnit!  And happy fourth of July!  Sincerely,

Tom Waters

Feedback Distortion

I can always tell when I piece of mine has been published in The Buffalo News from the incoming responses I get via email, snail mail, or over the phone. I prefer to vent in print because it’s a sane, rational means of conveying my feelings without ranting in the street, calling people at random, or standing up on tables in restaurants and yelling at other patrons. It’s a good way to get grievances and gripes out my system. This is why it boggles my mind that readers find it acceptable to hunt me down in the phone book or send postcards to my home. Well I’m telling you for the first and last time, our correspondence is a one way street. I am a hermit. I am a recluse. I prefer, in any given situation, to be left alone so that I may go about my business.

A small cross section of the population has no sense of humor, and they think that my treatises on modern day living are to be taken at face value. If you have no sense of humor, stop reading right now before you hurt yourself. Some people in this town really should take their medication before they get up in the morning, dial a phone or operate heavy machinery before they hurt themselves. Some insane woman left a message on my answering machine at nine in the morning regarding a weight gain rant that I wrote in The News. I goofed that everyone who said they had thyroid problems was faking it, and she went on at length about how I was a horrible person and that her husband had a diagnosed problem and lost some weight. This is comedy, lady. People get hurt. If you can’t take a joke, you know what you can do. Just yesterday, a man called my house wondering what the definition of ’tryptophan coma’ meant. I didn’t realize that writing humorous essays obligated me to stand by on the phone for people who are too lazy to walk to their dictionary or surf the internet for term definitions. I appreciate that you read my work but I would prefer that you buy my books if you want to learn more or figure things out for yourself.

Writers by definition are altruistic introverts. We try to change the world from a distance. We would rather hide behind the curtain and wait for the response than go up on the firing line and take questions and answers. The only time I surface as a moving target is during my whirlwind book promotions and then you are free to show up and ask as many stupid questions as you want (providing that you buy ten copies of each book).

Postcards, on the other hand, are not a bad means of interacting with me. Getting a polite note from an older woman about how she agrees with everything I say and that I say it better than her makes the world go round. I appreciate that, and time permitted, I will respond to that. If you want to bother me with your rebuttals, your two cents, or your insane blather, I would prefer that you direct it to my email address: bigwordsmailbag@yahoo.com.

Nine times out of ten I have the best intentions when I’m ranting or making jokes at some demographic’s expense. If you can’t figure that out, maybe you should apply for a permit before you read any printed column anywhere for your own good. If I come off as pompous or conceited, then I apologize. If I sound that way, it’s only because I know in my heart that I’m better than you, and always will be. Just kidding. Thanks for reading, Buffalo. Aggravations and all, you make my world go round.

Dumbing it down so that everyone can figure it out,

Tom ’do not call list’ Waters

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