Tag: humor (Page 2 of 3)

A Dad’s Review of Disney on Ice

January 9, 2023 /
Disney on Ice

HarshLight, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

It wasn’t as cold as I thought it would be.

That’s the first note from my experience at Disney on Ice. My wife Sara and I took our daughter Sasha to the show last month, and Sara’s sister Michaela joined us.

We drove to the MVP Arena, formerly the Times Union Center, formerly the Pepsi Center, formerly the Knick, formerly probably something else, like the General Electric General Sports Dome or something. It’s an indoor arena right off I-90, which is just how we Albanians like it.

Speaking of Albanians, there were lots of us there. By Albanians, I mean citizens of Albany, New York, not citizens of Albania. (I mean, some folks might’ve been from Albania—I didn’t ask.) I’ve been to a Roger Waters show at this venue, plus several arena football games (go Empire), along with a handful of college basketball and minor league hockey games.

The crowd for Disney on Ice was more excited than them all.

I’m not sure why this surprised me, but it did. I expected the audience for an off-Broadway play, not a playoff game.

Into the parking garage we drove, trailing behind several minivans, SUVS, and other family-friendly vehicles. We chugged up a couple levels, avoided the odd sprinting child as we drove, and soon found ourselves a parking space. After gathering Sasha’s supplies (because sometimes being a parent feels more like being a roadie for the Grateful Dead), we headed inside.

The copious offerings of fried dough and souvenirs lent the place a carnival atmosphere. Unfortunately, the latter were a disappointment to both Sara and Michaela, since it all seemed to be seizure-inducing lights attached to plastic rods (more on this later).

The only thing that caught Sara’s eye was popcorn. As we searched for our seats, she asked me, Michaela, and Sasha if we wanted any (reminder: Sasha’s still learning English). All three of us declined, to which Sara replied, “Maybe we should get popcorn.” When we declined a second time, Sara called it an “outrage” and threatened to get some, anyway. Fortunately, she decided against it when she saw the line. We proceeded to our seats.

Sasha began the show in my lap. She was pretty much motionless for the next 45 minutes, which is commendable for a then-13-month-old kid. I’m guessing she was stupefied by all the strobing lights, which glimmered both on and off the ice; in addition to the overhead lighting, most kids wielded those blinking plastic sticks, with which they prodded one another.

Before the prodding could progress to smacking, the show began. In glided Mickey, Minnie, Donald, and Goofy, enjoying the type of ravenous applause reserved for mid-60s Beatles concerts. Through voiceovers pumped from the stadium speakers, we learned the framing story: The fab four wanted to make a movie, only they couldn’t settle on a subject.

A few notes so far:

  • The sexual tension between Mickey and Minnie was undeniable.
  • I’m pretty sure Tim Blake Nelson does the voice of Goofy. I know there’s no evidence of this, but it really, really sounds like him.
  • Donald Duck’s dialogue is inscrutable. Imagine a person whose tongue has been stung by a bee, then had a fishbowl shoved over their head.

After some friendly banter, the crew settled on not one story, but many, beginning with Finding Dory.

Er, at least, I think they did. The sequence of segments has blurred in my mind, becoming a jumble of twirls, axels, and flying camels (Sara assures me that’s a real skating move).

But here’s one thing I do remember: The Dory costumes were creepy. Creative, yes, but super creepy. The skaters’ heads exploded from the fishes’ backs—or maybe the fishes’ heads exploded from the skaters’ chests. Either way, I couldn’t help but wonder whether the kids were amazed or horrified.

Turns out it was the former. If you think European soccer fans are passionate, you should see children at a Disney show. Most were on their feet the entire time, and if they weren’t, it was only because they couldn’t yet stand. They clapped. They shrieked. They twirled their blinking plastic sticks in heedless, blurring arcs, making me wonder how nobody got concussed by an errant swing. Sara herself sat beside a little girl whose stick was apparently quite blinding. I didn’t notice; I was too busy trying to recall the names of the boyfriends of the Disney princesses.

This was the next bit of the show. Dory, Marlon, and Nemo departed, ceding center ice to Belle and the Beast. That one I remembered. But then came Ariel and her dude, Snow White and a dude, Aurora plus dude, and pretty soon I gave up. I challenge the average Disney fan to name these scrubs. They’re almost as interchangeable as contestants on The Bachelor.

Afterward, Sara, Michaela, and I speculated on the strategy behind the rapid-fire princesses. After much deliberation, we decided it was a diversion tactic, something along the lines of, Let’s rush in princess after princess so there’s no time to reflect on the racism/sexism of the old movies.

It didn’t really work, but it did make for some cool skating, especially when all 77 or so couples united for a group number. After a wave of raucous applause, this brought us to halftime—I mean, intermission.

As kids and parents alike raced for the bathrooms, Sasha’s trance broke. She began to squirm and was only placated by a pre-packed bottle of milk. Crisis averted.

While we waited for the show to resume, I spotted a lot of Molsons. All slim cans with open tops, all clutched by people I assumed were parents. It seemed an odd place to enjoy a brew, yet I realized most were likely enjoying their brews because of the place.

Sasha was chugging her beverage, too, though hers was Vitamin D whole milk, not light beer. No sooner had she finished than the show resumed.

Mickey, Minnie, Donald, and Goofy returned to discuss their work-in-progress, which Donald described as—and I’m quoting him here—”Plazz-bwoo.” The others pretended to understand him, then introduced The Lion King.

I cringed during this sequence, and not because the costumes reminded me of the film Cats. Rather, it was due to their song choice: “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?”

See, I love this song, and so does Sara. In fact, I performed and recorded it one year for her for Valentine’s Day. This might sound impressive…until you hear my performance. Imagine someone slowly squeezing the life out of a squirrel by sitting on it. That’s basically my voice, especially on Nala’s parts, which I had no business singing. If they’d played my version of the song instead of the original, I suspect even more Molsons would’ve been chugged.

I forgot my shame when Frozen began. Unsurprisingly, this claimed a major portion of the show. It was great: the songs, the routines, even the costumes (Olaf’s was my favorite). During “Let It Go,” I even got a little choked up. You’re so brave, Elsa, I thought to myself, squeezing Sasha like she squeezes her Carebears. You finally let it go.

After that came Taylor Swift.

…Just kidding, it was the cast of Toy Story. But if you closed your eyes and listened, you’d think someone was about to launch into the 10-minute version of “All Too Well.” Even a guy named “Forky” got a rave reception, though I’d never heard of him. (Probably because I refuse to acknowledge Toy Story 4, because Toy Story 3 came out the year I graduated high school, and since Andy was doing the same in the movie, I view 3 as the definitive conclusion to the franchise.)

Side note: Is Forky okay? His schtick is constantly trying to leap into piles of trash, which seems like abnormal behavior to me (unless you’re a raccoon). Maybe Woody and Buzz should stage an intervention.

However, since an intervention would likely be too difficult to choreograph, the cast instead proceeded to Mulan. This almost brought Michaela to tears. Maybe it was the staging, or maybe it resulted from PTSD.

See, sometime in their adolescence, Sara demanded Michaela stay up well past midnight memorizing every word of every song from the movie. If even one lyric was incorrect, they had to restart the whole thing (Sara asked me to include this fact in this essay, and she sounded proud about it).

Though I wasn’t recalling an instance of sleep deprivation torture, I found Mulan moving as well. At one point, she shoots a live firework at the Hun army, triggering an avalanche simulated by a gigantic white sheet sweeping over the skaters. Very cool.

There was some stuff from Aladdin, too, like 20 blue genies forming a kickline across the ice, plus Aladdin wrestling a ragdoll version of his monkey. Afterward came the finale, where the entire cast circled the ice to wave goodbye.

Sasha saw none of this. Sometime around the genies’ arrival, she sprawled across Sara and me and promptly began to snore. (Her ability to sleep anywhere makes me a little jealous.)

When the show ended, I lifted her and cradled her in my arms. She slept on, even as we navigated our way through the fans, many of whom were screeching, crying, and flopping on the ground. Kids are experts at flopping on the ground, like fish unhooked from the line. They’re best at it when they want something, or really don’t want something, and they feel no remorse for their poor parents who make accidental eye contact with other nearby adults, who then think to themselves, I may pity you, but I can’t help you.

I’m sure such behavior is in our future, but just then, Sasha kept on sleeping. I carried her all the way to the car, where I set her down in her seat and buckled her in. She stirred for a moment, then sighed and slept on.

If Sasha had written this review instead of me, she might’ve started it like this: “This show put me to sleep.”

I’ll admit, that doesn’t sound great. And since she’s so little, I doubt she’ll remember much, if any, of Disney on Ice. But for whatever time she was awake, she was enchanted. And that, I’d say, was worth the price of admission.

Which is good, because tickets were surprisingly affordable, and there are apparently several other variations of the show. Parts II, III, IV, and V coming soon…

Kyle A. Massa is a comic fantasy author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their daughter, and three wild animals. His published works include three books and several short stories. When he’s not writing, he enjoys reading, running, and drinking coffee.

The World Without The Who

December 26, 2022 /
The Who

Heinrich Klaffs, CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons, modified by the author using Canva

Full disclosure, reader: This won’t be an objective piece.

Not that any entry in this series has been (or will be). Still, I thought I should state that upfront, because when it comes to this subject, I am entirely biased. The Who is my all-time favorite band.

Though I’d rather never contemplate a world without them, we’ll do it here to highlight their importance. In a world without the Who…

…The Incredibles Wouldn’t Exist

In 1999, a guy named Brad Bird directed a movie called The Iron Giant. Due to the critical success of that film, Pixar Animation Studios gave Bird the greenlight to write and direct another animated feature: The Incredibles. We all know what happened next: Reddit users posted numerous memes about Elastigirl being thicc.

What do the Who have to do with all this? Well, Who guitarist Pete Townshend adapted The Iron Man, a novel by Ted Hughes, into a musical of the same name. Warner Bros. purchased the film rights to that album, and it soon became Bird’s The Iron Giant.

Therefore, no Who, no Incredibles. You’re welcome, Reddit.

…Punk Rock Would Be Gone

The Who was one of the chief inspirations behind punk rock, particularly the aggressive, power-cord-slamming style of guitarist Pete Townshend. Bands such as the Clash, Sex Pistols, Green Day, and the Ramones have either covered songs by the Who or cited them as influences.

So, by extension, this world we’re imagining would also miss classic tunes like “Rock the Kasbah,” “Anarchy in the UK,” and “American Idiot.” And who could forget everybody’s favorite Ramones song, “Pet Sematary”?

…What Would CSI Do?

They have like 10 spinoffs, and all of them bastardize Who songs for their opening credits. I’m still waiting for CSI: Portland, which would use something weird, e.g. “Boris the Spider.”

…No More Animal from the Muppets

That’s because Animal is based on the Who’s original drummer, Keith Moon.

Moon really was some sort of animal. For example, on his 21st birthday, he committed the following acts at a Holiday Inn in Flint, Michigan:

  • Got very drunk
  • Chipped half his front tooth
  • Started a food fight
  • Set off numerous fire extinguishers
  • Drove a Lincoln Continental into the swimming pool (this claim has since been disputed)

This all cost an alleged $24,000 in property damage, which was worth quite a bit more in 1967. Most of us get sloppy on our 21st birthdays—but not 24k-sloppy. For comparison, here’s what I did on mine:

  • Drank legally
  • Dined at Ithaca’s finest restaurant: Sammy’s Pizza
  • Capped off the night with some Call of Duty: Black Ops

I suppose my Venn diagram overlapped with Moon’s on the “got very drunk” part. But hey, nobody ever based a Muppets character on me.

…Yet.

…The Rock Opera Would Be a Lost Art

The Who’s Tommy was the first. Without its pioneering presence, would we have such classics as David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust, Pink Floyd’s The Wall, or The Simpsons’ Simpsons Christmas Boogie? I think not.

…Smashing Guitars Would Be Considered Vandalism

Yes, Mr. Townshend was the first man to smash a guitar for the spectacle. He was inspired to do so by artist Gustav Metzger, who destroyed his own work as a mode of artistic expression. Pete did the same, forcing the band to glue their instruments back together in their early days, when they lacked the funds to replace them.

…In the Year 2010, a Vegetable Platter Might’ve Been Saved

During Super Bowl XLIV, the Who played the halftime show. And somewhere, some overenthusiastic viewer did a Pete Townshend windmill air-guitar move, knocking over somebody’s veggie tray at their Super Bowl party. I’m almost certain this happened.

My friend Jimmy maintains this was the worst halftime performance in Super Bowl history, but as I’ve said, I’m biased. I’ll admit, Pete’s shirt kept flying up during those aforementioned windmill moves, revealing his old man stomach beneath.

Yet still, it’s hard to get much worse than 2019, which featured shirtless Adam Levine, 30 seconds of Travis Scott, half of Outkast, and for some reason, SpongeBob SquarePants.

…Young Kyle Would’ve Gotten More Sleep

I recall one night in high school where I stayed up late listening to Tommy and getting very emotional, I think after being rejected by a girl or something. Emo much?

Oh, and also, I downloaded all the Who’s DLC songs on Rock Band 2 and played them ad nauseam in my dad’s basement, usually at night. If you thought the Who’s cover of “Young Man Blues” from Live at Leeds was good, wait ’til you get a load of mine.

…Sports Teams Would Have Shorter Pregame Playlists

I swear, every time I tune in to a Giants game, they’re playing “Baba O’Riley.” Of course, they never play “My Generation,” because that would offend the geriatric fans.

That reminds me of a story. You may not have known this, reader, but I’m in a band. We’re called Hurricane Betty, and we once played a pool party at a dude’s house (we dubbed him “Cabana Bob,” owing to his sick backyard cabana). Sometime during the party, Bob announced one of his guests was celebrating their 60th birthday. Everyone sang “Happy Birthday,” and all was well.

Two songs later, we played “My Generation.” My brother-in-law Dan (and our band leader) changed the most famous line in the song to this: “I hope I die before I turn 60.”

Paradoxically, Cabana Bob still invited us back the following year. Probably couldn’t find another band that would play for free.

…The World Would Be Far Less Interesting

Speaking for millions of fans throughout the world, I’m glad the Who exists. Now please excuse me while I go queue up a little Quadrophenia.

Kyle A. Massa is a comic fantasy author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their daughter, and three wild animals. His published works include three books and several short stories. When he’s not writing, he enjoys reading, running, and drinking coffee.

You can read more from the “World Without” blog series here. And if you want to see a specific topic, email kyle@kyleamassa.com.

A Muggle Parent’s Questions About Academics at Hogwarts

October 11, 2022 /

Hogwarts Questions

Dear Hogwarts Admissions Office,

My name is Kyle Massa and the only magic I know is the trading card game. Nonetheless, I’m considering sending my daughter to your school, provided you can answer some quick questions.

First, what’s the approximate mortality rate among students? I ask because the brochure mentions giant spiders in the woods, secret chambers beneath the castle, and ghosts of former students haunting the bathrooms. Also, the liability waiver is longer than Infinite Jest. Should I be concerned about this?

Second, where are the math classes? I never liked math and, truth be told, I dropped out of precalculus after two classes. Still, basic mathematical skills seem important in the everyday world, magical or otherwise, yet all I’m seeing is stuff like Transfiguration (whatever that is). Does this mean wizards can’t calculate tips? If not, will Grubhub still deliver to the school?

My third question is about PTAs. Most Muggle schools have them, yet Hogwarts appears not to. I have no firsthand experience of such things, but I hear PTAs are sort of like a prison sentence, except you volunteer for it. More experienced parents have advised me never to speak of them, lest someone mistake it for interest.

You know what? This isn’t a question—more a congratulations on not having PTAs. Well done.

Actual question number three: What’s your cell phone policy? Ubiquitous cell usage was just beginning during my school days, yet even then administrators spent roughly half their tenure confiscating Motorola Razrs. So what’s the Hogwarts policy? (My suggestion: Outlaw Snapchat. It’s the worst.)

My fourth question is about the houses. Here are my general impressions:

  • Gryffindor: The home for future world leaders with no discernible issues or shortcomings.
  • Slytherin: A pack of cheats, sociopaths, and borderline white supremacists.
  • Hufflepuff: A bunch of randos who do nothing noteworthy, except maybe die.
  • Ravenclaw: See above.

Look, I know tribalism is fun for kids (e.g. Lord of the Flies). However, after careful research, I’ve concluded that Gryffindor is the only house a parent would want their child in. If my daughter got into Slytherin, for example, I’d immediately hire several psychiatrists and hide all the knives in the house.

And hey, does your food contain laxatives? This is my fifth question. I ask because, when I was a freshman at Ithaca College, one of my good friends insisted the campus food was laced with laxatives. He provided no evidence other than claiming he was pooping a lot (we took his word for it). According to his theory, if we drained our bodies frequently, we’d need to eat more, thereby making the college more money.

I reiterate: This was never proven. I am not suggesting my alma mater tampered with our food. But does Hogwarts? I’m asking as a concerned parent.

I could go on, but I’m running out of ink and this owl you sent to retrieve my letter won’t stop staring at me. Which brings up another question: Do you have email?

Best,

Kyle

Kyle A. Massa is a comic fantasy author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their daughter, and three wild animals. His published works include three books and several short stories. When he’s not writing, he enjoys reading, running, and drinking coffee.

The World Without Coffee

October 1, 2022 /

The World Without Coffee

The world without coffee is, I must say, a horrifying alternate reality. However, here in the World Without series, we don’t avoid difficult topics. We examine them head-on, with courage, humor, and, fortunately, caffeine.

So get ready, people. In a world without coffee…

…We’d Live in The Hunger Games

Coffee contains caffeine, which is the chief reason most folks drink it—unless you’re one of those weirdos who drinks decaf. In such cases, I must assume you also enjoy non-alcoholic beer, sugar-free Coke, and rock songs without guitar solos. Are you all right? I’m asking as a friend.

Sorry, let’s get back on track. According to the National Coffee Association (yes, there is a national association dedicated to coffee), 62% of Americans drink coffee every day. I’d guess a significant portion of them drink the caffeinated sort. Without it, waking up for work would be difficult, if not downright impossible.

What if we extend this logic further? If people can’t wake up for work, they work less. If that happens, the gross domestic product of countries shrivels, trade suffers, and the world descends into chaos. Hence, a Hunger Games scenario. (I fell asleep during the fourth movie, so hopefully it ends well.)

…We’d Have to Resort to Alternate Forms of Caffeine

Tea, for example. Or soda. Or energy drinks. Or cocaine.

Look, I know cocaine is far more stimulating than caffeine. But from my understanding, it’s sort of like caffeine on cocaine—not that I would know from experience (I promise I’ve never done cocaine, Mom). I’m just saying, people would need something to wake them up. Who can say it wouldn’t be the 80s all over again?

…Toilets Would Be Used Less Frequently

Everybody knows that coffee makes you poop. Without your morning joe, you’d be less regular (I know I would). And when you get constipated, you get irritable, so the world would probably be a lot grouchier, too.

…We’d Lose the “Caution: Contents Are Hot” Warning

That’s because it comes from an infamous 1992 case in which Stella Liebeck sued McDonald’s for serving coffee so hot it gave her third-degree burns when spilled. I wonder why we don’t have more of these warnings, such as “Caution: knife is sharp.”

…People’s Breath Would Smell Better

No other beverage makes breath smell worse (unless you’re a fan of onion broth). This has become even more apparent while wearing masks everywhere.

…The Starbucks Empire Would Collapse

And I would play my fiddle while it burned. The downfall of Starbucks would devastate millions of people, but personally, I think it’s vastly overrated. Sure, they have some decent stuff, like that sweet vanilla cold brew thing. But Starbucks reminds me a little of NXIVM, and any chain that substitutes the word “large” for “venti” is clearly full of itself.

Another strike against it: I have a personal vendetta. When I was a young lad, there was a combination KFC/Taco Bell only 15 minutes from my house. When the KFC left, I was hurt. When the Taco Bell left, I was devastated. And you know what replaced them?

A Starbucks. Never forgive, never forget.

…Interns Would Become Obsolete

When I interned in Los Angeles, I’d say a good 68% of my job was hustling down to the Starbucks on Wilshire Blvd (yet another reason I hate the Bucks). Plus, one of my professors once said Los Angeles is built on the backs of interns. So if interns didn’t have coffee runs to make, L.A. would crumble. A definite bummer, but at least there’d be less traffic.

…Undercover Police Would Need Another Way to Stay Awake

Again, I don’t want to say cocaine, but…cocaine?

…The World Would Be Far Less Interesting

Thankfully, we live in a world with coffee, and today’s the day to celebrate it. Now please excuse me while I brew a fresh pot. Happy International Coffee Day!

Kyle A. Massa is a comic fantasy author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their daughter, and three wild animals. His published works include three books and several short stories. When he’s not writing, he enjoys reading, running, and drinking coffee.

You can read more from the “World Without” blog series here. And if you want to see a specific topic, email kyle@kyleamassa.com.

The World Without Chocolate

September 11, 2022 /

The World Without Chocolate

Cake. Syrup. Mousse. Cookies. Pudding.

Those desserts (and so many more) would suffer without chocolate. Yes, reader, that’s the bleak scenario we’re examining today. In a world without chocolate…

…Things Would Get Gloomy

That’s the word my wife used to describe this alternate reality, along with a sad sigh. Sorry to bum you out, Sara.

…Several Holidays Would Die

We have numerous choco-based holidays, including Easter, Halloween, and Valentine’s Day. Without the chocolate, what would we be celebrating? Rabbits? Pumpkin mutilation? Love? Come on now.

Of those three holidays, Halloween would have it worst, since the entire conceit of the night is stuffing yourself with chocolate until you puke, all while pretending to be someone else to hide your shame. And without chocolate, Milky Way, Twix, and Snickers are out, leaving whatever’s left in people’s cupboards. Hope you like expired Saltines, kids.

…Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Would Need a New Setting

Maybe not the worst thing, since both versions of this film are super creepy. I’ve never read the book, but knowing Roald Dahl, it’s probably just as disturbing—if not more so.

Also, did you know there’s a prequel movie slated for release next year? It’s an origin story for Willy Wonka, because apparently we needed the Dahl Cinematic Universe.

…Matilda Would Be More Enjoyable

Speaking of movies, Matilda is another DCU film, the one where school faculty forces some kid to eat an entire chocolate cake, solo. For many, this would be a delight. However, this particular cake is made from the “sweat and blood” of the lunch lady.

It’s a grotesque sequence, enough so that it ruined chocolate cake for my sister for at least a few months. Quite the astounding feat considering she requested a seven-layer chocolate cake for her birthday one year (my mom vetoed that idea).

…Peanut Butter Would Lose a Longtime Ally

As they so frequently remind us on Reese’s commercials, chocolate and peanut butter go together like Jagger and Richards (except for the 80s). Peanut butter would still have jelly and fluff, I suppose, but jelly is messy and fluff is objectively gross.

…Vanilla Would Own a De Facto Monopoly Over Soft Serve Ice Cream

As it stands, our standard soft serve options are vanilla and chocolate. Without the latter, we’d have no selection, not even a twist. I’ve never been partial to soft serve chocolate, but even I must admit, this sounds like slim pickings.

…Count Chocula Would Need a Rebrand

To what, Count Vanilla? Vanilla is literally synonymous with boring. We can’t have that.

…The Cookie Monster Would Lose His Favorite Cookie

I recommend the snickerdoodle as a replacement, both for the taste and the name.

…Cookie Crisp Would Cease to Exist

Maybe not a bad thing; it’s the antithesis of nutrition. I don’t understand why the FDA ever approved the stuff. Also, if we’ve learned anything from the last three points, it’s that a world without chocolate would decimate many people’s childhoods.

…No More Chocolataires

Did you know such a thing was a thing? Because I didn’t.

Not to be confused with a chocolatier, chocolataires are parties where every food and beverage served contains some form of chocolate. Apparently, this type of shindig was biggest in the early 1900s. (This is all according to Wikipedia, so if I’m the victim of an elaborate trolling, I apologize.)

Such a party would be tough to hold without chocolate. Truth be told, I’m just trying to imagine the menu with chocolate. Something like this…?

  • Hors d’oeuvres: Cocoa Puffs, fudge Pop Tarts, and random chocolates from a Whitman’s Sampler
  • Drink of the evening: Chocolate milk
  • First course: A traditional Caesar salad doused in Hershey’s syrup in lieu of dressing
  • Second course: A slice of pepperoni pizza (the pepperonis are Reese’s Cups)
  • Third course: A seemingly normal pork roast, only someone injected the meat with searing hot fudge
  • Dessert: Chocolate ice cream topped with chocolate sauce and chocolate sprinkles, packed with chocolate chips and chocolate chunks, all floating on a bed of chocolate mousse, served with Hot Chocolate’s “You Sexy Thing” playing in the background
  • Party favor: Lines of cocoa powder that you snort off a golden platter

Hmm. Maybe we’d be better off if these never existed.

…The World Would Be Far Less Interesting

We all need a little chocolate in our lives from time to time, else things would definitely get gloomy. For my wife’s sake, I’m glad it’s still here.

Kyle A. Massa is a comic fantasy author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their daughter, and three wild animals. His published works include three books and several short stories. When he’s not writing, he enjoys reading, running, and drinking coffee.

The subject for this article came from a reader named Cherry. Thanks, Cherry! You can read more from the “World Without” blog series here. And if you want to see a specific topic, email kyle@kyleamassa.com.

The World Without Multitasking

July 12, 2022 /

The World Without Multitasking

Why do one task well when you can do several poorly?

That’s the multitasker’s credo. I would know, because I’m a serial multitasker myself. Whether it’s listening to podcasts, exploring Wikipedia, or flipping a pen around in my left hand, I’m always doing other stuff. Perhaps I’m even multitasking right now.

But what would the world look like without this glorious skill? I shudder to contemplate it, but that is why we’re here. So, in a world without multitasking…

…People Might Die of Boredom

Has anyone’s cause of death ever been listed as “boredom”? Not to my knowledge—but that doesn’t mean it can’t happen.

Imagine, for instance, you find yourself at a local staging of Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus. This happened to me as a wee lad, and though I’ve since grown to appreciate the play, this particular production was a snooze. Fortunately, I had my trusty Gameboy Advance tucked into my cargo shorts, so I passed the time by leveling-up my Treecko in Pokemon Ruby. Yes, multitasking saved my life.

Picture my mom and sister’s horror if the lights came up at intermission and they’d found me dead of boredom. Now that would’ve been a tragedy.

…This Very Article Wouldn’t Exist

That’s because I’m dictating it on my phone on my way to work. To be clear, it’s hands-free multitasking, which is the best sort, right up there with listening to audiobooks. Told you I’m a serial multitasker.

…Audiobook Sales Would Plummet

Speaking of audiobooks, 93% of people who listen to them are also doing something else.

Did I pull that figure out of my ass? Why yes, I did. But the essence of the argument is true; many readers enjoy audiobooks while driving, cleaning, doing dishes, or some combination of the three. Or, if you’re like me, you listen to A Song of Ice and Fire while playing basketball in your driveway. The Battle of Blackwater Bay is particularly exhilarating, especially when working on one’s jumpshot.

But without multitasking, say goodbye to Audible. Worse yet, imagine how boring household chores would become. I think I’d just pull a Gollum and go live in a cave. (Far less upkeep, not to mention no property taxes.)

…We’d All Be Far More Attentive

I love multitasking, but I’ll admit it can be distracting. Have you ever tried doing the self-checkout at the grocery store while listening to the latest episode of The Bill Simmons Podcast? I have, and let me tell you, it’s a challenge—especially when you order cash back from a machine that doesn’t dispense cash, because you didn’t notice the handwritten sign above the screen, and now the machine has stolen $40 of your hard-earned money, and you ask the attendant what’s going on, only you can’t hear him because you’re still listening to The Bill Simmons Podcast, and Bill is interviewing Jeff Bridges and everybody seems to be having a good time, except for you, by which I mean, me.

My point is, none of this would’ve happened in a world without multitasking. And I’d be $40 richer.

…Phones Would Just Be Phones Again

At the risk of making up another statistic, I’d venture we use modern cell phones more for data than calls. Without multitasking, we might as well revert to the days of rotary dial. I confess I wouldn’t mind that, since turning the wheel looks fun.

…Huh?

Sorry, what did you say? I was checking my email.

…Social Media Wouldn’t Be So Ubiquitous

Some might dispute this claim, but I don’t read my comments, so joke’s on them. Seriously though, social media’s allure lies in slipping updates between moments. Waiting in line? Check Twitter. Enjoying the sunrise? Share it on Instagram. Taking a dump? Call somebody on WhatsApp.

Just kidding, nobody uses WhatsApp (except for Momo). And even if you do, you should probably wait until you’re out of the bathroom before calling anyone. Which reminds me…

…We’d Have Nothing to Do While Pooping

This is the ultimate opportunity for multitasking, and therefore, it’s one of the most devastating losses we’d suffer. Sure, this is usually time spent on the phone, or reading, or, in my case, sifting through Magic cards. Yet still, it’s better than just sitting there staring at the wall while nature runs its course.

Babies have it best, because they can roll, crawl, cry, or giggle, all whilst simultaneously pooping in their diapers. They’re a model of multitasking, and perhaps us adults should take note. Imagine how exponentially productivity would increase if we all wore Huggies.

…The World Would Be Far Less Interesting

I’m glad multitasking exists, especially on the toilet. (Not that I’m writing this part from a toilet—you can’t prove that.) Though it might lead to decreased attention spans, I believe multitasking is a net positive for society. Now please excuse me while I go eat breakfast, edit this article, check my email, and finish packing my bag for work, all at once. Wish me luck!

Kyle A. Massa is a comic fantasy author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their daughter, and three wild animals. His published works include three books and several short stories. When he’s not writing, he enjoys reading, running, and drinking coffee.

Read more from the “World Without” blog series here. And if you want to see a specific topic, email kyle@kyleamassa.com.

My Most Embarrassing Writing Fails

January 26, 2022 /

Bad Writing

My grandparents on my dad’s side were famous for never wasting anything. This is not a statement of hyperbole.

For instance, instead of killing dandelions in her yard, my grandmother served them as salad toppers. Also, my grandfather once removed every rusty nail from every board of a dismantled shed, then stored the nails in buckets in the basement for future use.

See? Nothing wasted.

I take after them in this respect, though my waste refusal has nothing to do with dandelions or rusty nails. Mine is all about writing.

I can’t discard my writing. No matter how bad it is, no matter how unreadable, I can’t write anything without using it somehow. So, this blog post is all about my lousiest work. I could (probably should) throw it out, but instead I’m sharing it with you. Hope you get a kick out of it—and maybe a few helpful tips along the way.

Pages of the Mirror

This pretentiously artsy script was my senior thesis project at Ithaca College in 2014. This was back when I feared nobody would take me seriously if I wrote comedy, so the resulting piece is emo, dull, and ultimately lousy.

Pages of the Mirror is about some dude named Danny who lives in a small town and is beloved by everyone, for some reason. When his equally beloved Uncle Jack (car mechanic with tattoos who listens to Metallica, of course) gets murdered, Danny becomes the prime suspect.

Plus, there’s an intertwined story of a mysterious fellow mysteriously named “The Writer” who’s working on a mysterious book and who continues to be generally mysterious, because I decided all this mystery would be intriguing. We soon discover this is a story within a story; the Writer is writing about Danny.

At the time, I thought this was clever. Looking back, the connection between the two stories was probably immediately obvious. Plus, it’s a classically egomaniacal story for a writer to write. (What if my writing became so good it came to life!?) I recall pulling an all-nighter the night before it was due, which is probably why I only got a B. But look at me now—I got blog content out of it.

My takeaway from this project: When you’re developing your voice, you might strike a few sour notes. Just clear your throat and keep singing.

“Apocalypse Now…or Never”

It’s hard to believe, but I’ve been writing on this here blog now for 10 years. If you explore my archives, you’ll find some bad writing. Perhaps the worst was my first ever blog post, entitled “Apocalypse Now…or Never.”

The title isn’t terrible; it’s the rest that’s ugly. Just check out this leadoff sentence:

“I’m having a hard time buying this ‘2012: World is Going to End’ crap.”

I wrote this sentence when I was 19, yet it makes me sound like I’m 60. Also, I’m pretty sure the punctuation is incorrect.

Things don’t improve from there. My intro paragraph is a block of text, and I somehow venture into a rant about Ozzy Osbourne possibly being a zombie. I don’t even address my anti-apocalypse stance until paragraph eight, and when I finally get to it, I use a funfetti cake as a metaphor.

If you want to read just how bad this blog post was, you can find it here. My takeaway: Writing gets better with age. I’m not some premier blogger, but this blog is certainly better than it was a decade ago. Second takeaway: I was right about the world not ending in 2012. Yay me.

Pleasant Street

This is another college project, though Pleasant Street was a short story, not a script. It’s so bad that I’ve actually written about it before. Not sure this is something I should brag about, but here goes…

This story has it all: A doofus protagonist, heavy-handed symbolism, clumsy language, geriatric cannibals. What more could you ask for?

Well, if you’re asking for competent plotting, compelling characters, or an interesting setting, look elsewhere. Pleasant Street is about a first-time cop named Officer Green (I warned you about the heavy-handedness) who’s assigned to walk the beat in a neighborhood called Pleasant Street. See? Because it’s called Pleasant Street, you’d never expect anything bad might happen. Brilliant misdirection.

As it happens, the residents of Pleasant Street have achieved eternal life via cannibalism. (I partially lifted this idea from an episode of The X-Files, so my apologies to Mulder and Scully.) Rather predictably, the story concludes with the main character being cooked and eaten. I would’ve offered a spoiler warning, but no one will ever read this story again—I’ve made sure of it.

As for the grade on this assignment, I don’t recall it. Perhaps my mind is repressing it to defend me. But here’s what I do remember: I never collected feedback on this piece. If I did, maybe someone might’ve told me it needed work. So that’s our takeaway for this story. Get feedback from people you trust, then use it if it works.

“10 Bold Predictions for the Future of Magic: The Gathering”

Yes, I know most readers will not care about Magic, let alone understand it. If you were to browse this article, you’d find such esoteric phrases as “enemy fetch lands,” “two-block paradigm,” and “Kaseto comes along in the new Commander product.”

However, I’m including this article because of my low success rate on these so-called bold predictions. To be clear, the writing is actually passable; I had some decent wisecracks, including a dig at Jar-Jar Binks (timeless). The issue is, I only got five of my 10 predictions right!

I won’t bore you with the details. I’ll just say this: We must deliver on our promises to our readers—especially when the promise is right in the title.

“Someday”

I’ve saved the worst for last. You think my poetry is bad now? Just check out this poem from May 5th, 2011, for a creative writing class at Ithaca College.

“Someday soon,
We’ll touch the moon.
Ride the stars to the sun.
Someday soon,
We will commune.
And then we shall be one.”

This is weird pseudo-hippy crap that sounds like something you’d cringe at if you heard someone singing it with an acoustic on the campus quad. And it’s only an excerpt! I feel like I should apologize to you for forcing you to read it. I’m sorry.

The lesson learned here is clear: Don’t F with poetry. Bad poetry is more offensive than bad prose. My poetry is still pretty bad, but at least I’m reading and studying the craft before I write more. And I’m definitely not trying to rhyme.

Summing It All Up

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again here: I think it’s healthy to review your old work, no matter how nauseated it makes you feel. I may not be a great writer, but at least I’m better than I used to be. And sometimes, that reminder is all we need.

(P.S. I hope I made my grandparents proud. Waste not, want not!)

Kyle A. Massa is a comic fantasy author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their daughter, and three wild animals. His published works include two books and several short stories. When he’s not writing, he enjoys reading, running, and drinking coffee.

Hot Sauce and the Importance of Humor

March 3, 2020 /

Hot Sauce

When I was in college, I made a movie for an introductory film course. It was not very good.

It was called 61 Days, and it was about a guy with a terminal illness. He’s been given the cliche timeline: just two months, sixty-one days, and then whappo. He croaks. So he decides to go on a cross-country adventure with his brother.

I must say, I packed an impressive amount of emo voiceover and sappy closeups into those five minutes. The best is the final shot: a slow-motion closeup on the main character’s Hallmark grin, one that seems to say, “It’s all gonna be alright.”

The final cut of 61 Days was screened in a theater in downtown Ithaca, New York, along with about forty others. Most were quite impressive. Most of us showed a lot of promise as filmmakers. But here’s what really struck me about those films: in terms of subject matter, the vast majority of them were like mine. They were depressing, melodramatic, insistently gloomy. Everyone’s movie depicted a bad breakup, substance abuse, mental illness, or, like my film, someone dying. If I had to sum up the afternoon in a single sentence, it would be this: “Look at me, I’m sad.”

Of the forty or so films screened that day, only one sticks in my mind as more than a generality. It was about a guy who travels back in time to feudal Japan in order to steal an ancient hot sauce recipe. The movie featured samurai sword fights, goofy one-liners, and intentionally-poor lip dubs.

Everyone laughed. Everyone thought it was hilarious. But secretly, I’m pretty sure everyone was thinking the same thing: Amusing, but certainly not an A+ film. The unspoken understanding, of course, was that humor is not art. It’s just funny.

But is it? When I watched that samurai movie, I felt a little lighter. I felt happy, at ease, even inspired. But when I watched my film and all those others, I quite frankly don’t even remember how I felt.

The samurai film made me realize something: we all take ourselves too seriously. I took myself too seriously when I made a film that was identical to forty others. I said to myself, “I’m a serious filmmaker, so I’m going to make a serious film.” And sure, I did that. But I also made a film that was pretty forgettable.

Out of everyone in that class, the guy who made the hot sauce film was the only one of us willing to set aside his own ego. And, for that reason, he made a film that was far more memorable than the others.

Does that mean that comedy is superior to drama? No, not necessarily. In truth, in the artistic world, the reverse is far more often true. Adam McKay directed Anchorman, but no one seemed to recognize him as a true artist until he directed The Big Short (and now this year’s Dick Cheney biopic, Vice). To paraphrase Ron Burgundy, that’s kind of a big deal.

Yet we can’t discount the value of humor. If everyone could stop taking themselves so seriously, if everyone learned to just laugh at disagreements rather than fight over them, I think we’d all have a much better time. We all deserve to laugh. And, at times, we all deserve to be laughed at. Good humor is just as valuable as good drama.

I never met the guy who made the samurai hot sauce film, but I wish I had. I imagine he’s a pretty cool dude. If I had asked him why he made his film, I imagine his response wouldn’t have started with, “My inspiration was born of my desire to explore the true nature of what it means to be a condiment…”

Instead, I think he would’ve said something like, “I made it because I wanted to make people laugh.” And that’s all the reason I would need.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. His debut novel, Gerald Barkley Rocks, is available now on Amazon Kindle.

10 Stories, 10 Samples

August 26, 2019 /

Monsters at Dusk

Alternate title for this post: The Monsters at Dusk sampler platter.

Why? Because, with short story collection Monsters at Dusk just 11 days away from release, I’d like to add something new to the menu. Today, I’d like to share the titles of all 10 stories. In addition, these titles come with a brief peek at each story.

If you like the sampler, don’t forget to order the main course on September 6th. Here we go!

Several Messages from Abby to God (Regarding Her Cat)

Dear Mr. Satan,

My name is Abby Thymes and my cat Pickles just died. I herd about you at Sunday skool and they said you’re kinda meen but also kinda magical I guess so I thought I’d say hi. I think Mr. God’s maybe taking a nap becuz he didn’t anser me.

Have you seen my cat Pickles down there? If you have could you send him back? If you do I would like you a lot and I would lissin to loud music with screeming and screechee gitars and stuff. My brother lissins to that stuff and he says it’s your favrit music. I’m sorry I don’t spell very good.

Anyway please send Pickles back. If not I’ll be really really mad at you.

Sincerealy,

Abby Thymes

Unbelievable

Anyway, once back at his dorm room, [Toby had] thrown on his clothes, some flip-flops, his backpack, whatever, and he’d dashed out the door. He smelled like his childhood dog Ambrose used to smell after rolling in the mud, but there was no time to care. If he was late again, the honorable professor Simon R. Briggs would fail him. And then probably murder him, just because he had tenure and he could get away with it.

We Remember

In my dream, I lie in bed beside you and I remember the outdoor concert where we first met, how hard it poured during the encore. I remember watching Troll 2 with you, our first B-movie, and laughing hard enough that cream soda gushed from my nose—still the only time it’s ever happened. I remember how hot it was the day we got married, how we all (especially me) sweat through our clothes. I remember the first time we kissed, and how my heartbeat never quite slowed around you since.

Large Coffee, Black

Some people flavor their coffee with sugar, milk, creamer, and the like. Osbourne truly hates those people.

A Good Fit in Penbluff City

Pren isn’t royalty, by the way. But that doesn’t mean she can’t feel like royalty. After all, she’s the closest thing to it these days. She’s a billionaire: first as a player, then as a landowner, now as a team owner in a sports league. And there’s no bigger sports league than the Greater Questing League.

Alice

Why would it do that? Never heard of an animal crying before, have you? That would require being sad, and being sad means you’ve got emotions. Animals only have about three: they’ve got scared, they’ve got hungry, and they’ve got horny—and don’t tell Gram I told you that last one. Animals don’t have the mental know-how to feel anything else.

Thespian: A Tale of Tragedy and Redemption in Three Acts

I was jobless, worthless, a base wretch and nothing more. My tyrannical landlady ousted me from my apartment, you see, just a day after my release from the theater company. The old bag cited three months without rental payment as motivation. She even cast me aside without so much as a “Good luck, and break a leg!”

Virus / Affliction / Condition / Curse

“Yeah, I worked on the werewolf Super Bowl commercial.” Giovanni Fressi frowns for a moment, then says, “Why? You wanna complain about it?”

Wings

“I can give you wings,” he said.

That was all. That and an enigmatic smile, a smile that might’ve been warm or predatory or indifferent. All he wanted was an answer. A yes.

I gave it to him.

The Megrim

When the first child vanished in the night, I called on the High Temple for aid.

Piebald the Cobbler laughed at me for doing it. “You’re always worrying, Pureman,” he said the following day as we trudged over fresh snow. “Too much for a young man like you. I’ve got a boy of my own. These children, they go wandering, they come back. Once this one starts missing his sweets and his bed, he’ll return.”

Yet a day passed without sign of the child.

[You can read even more from this one here.]

That’s all for now…

But you can buy the entire book on ebook or paperback September 6th. Look for it then!

Kyle A. Massa is the author of the novel Gerald Barkley Rocks and the forthcoming short story collection Monsters at Dusk. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. He lives somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats.

An Early Look at “Monsters at Dusk”

August 19, 2019 /

Monsters at Dusk

I’ve been teasing a new book for the past few months. I’m happy to say it’s nearly here.

The book is called Monsters at Dusk. It’s a short story collection (well, technically six short stories, three flash fiction pieces, and one novella). Each story concerns a different monster, some literal, some metaphorical, some you’ll recognize, others you won’t. A handful of these stories have been published around the internet; most are unpublished and original. Here they are, together for the first time. Kinda like The Avengers in 2012.

But you can’t have a book without a cover. So that’s why I asked my good buddy and eminently talented designer Nathan Rumsey to do this:

Nathan did the cover for my first book, Gerald Barkley Rocks, as well. Don’t ask me which I love more—it’s like choosing between kids. To learn more about the making of this one, feel free to read last week’s blog post, “Creating the Cover of ‘Monsters at Dusk’.”

Now what about the cover copy? I’m glad you asked, kind reader. Here’s a little more info about Monsters at Dusk:

There’s no monster under your bed, but there are several in this book.

The first short story collection from “Gerald Barkley Rocks” author Kyle A. Massa, “Monsters at Dusk” offers answers to several important questions, such as:

Do vampires use Snapchat?

What happens when a demonic cat declares war on God and Satan?

Is someone drinking your memories? If so, are they tasty?

If a mad scientist offers to build you a set of wings, should you accept?

Can sports franchises set in epic fantasy worlds make better hiring decisions than real ones?

How would the American legal system handle werewolves?

What is a Megrim and why does it keep taking everyone’s kids?

Balancing fantasy, science fiction, horror, and humor, each of the collection’s 10 stories concerns a different monster—some familiar, some original, some literal, some metaphorical, all strange and wonderful in their own way.

Monsters at Dusk arrives Friday, September 6th, on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, and in paperback.

Kyle A. Massa is the author of the novel Gerald Barkley Rocks and the forthcoming short story collection Monsters at Dusk. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. He lives somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats.

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