The Killing Shelf

Some books seem to spawn sequels like trout in a stream. Or a pond or lake or wherever the hell trout lay eggs. I'm not a fisherman so I don't know and really don't care. The subject here is books. For instance, Dummies. I don't know how it started, but now there's a Dummies book for anything you need or want. I was at PetSmart yesterday and saw "Ferrets for Dummies." Seriously. And there was a large ferret standing there, leafing through the book. No, I'm kidding.

The Chicken Soup books have just about taken over the literary world. Every possible age group, event, situation, holiday and emotional need now has a Chicken Soup book. My personal favorite is "Chicken Soup for the Athiest's Soul." Again, I'm kidding. But you get the idea.

So anyway, I was at Barnes & Noble the other day, a rare occurrence for me. While waiting to check out, I saw three books prominently displayed, all by Bill O'Reilly. They were: Killing Kennedy, Killing Lincoln, and Killing Jesus.

Which gave me an idea about the next book I'm going to write: Killing O'Reilly. (Note to the FBI, NSA, BTAF and Fox News: Don't investigate me. I'm not even thinking about killing Bill. This is a joke, albeit a bad one.) Imagine the cast of characters in this one.

Beyond that, I began to consider other possibilities for the
"Killing" series. There are the obvious choices: Killing King (as in Martin Luther); Killing Bobby (Kennedy);  Killing Julius (Caesar that is); Killing X (that's Malcolm); Killing Milk (think Harvey); Killing Lennon; and Killing Gandhi.

They'd all make good stories, being major figures enmeshed in the flow of history and the fortune of nations, at least to some degree. However, once you get to Jesus, as O'Reilly has done, everyone else is kind of in steerage, lower down on the guest list. "Oh, yes, we may have a table for you. What's that name again?"

The category of "killing" has bigger dimensions than this, however, as we have seen with Dummies and Chicken Soup. For instance, how about a book called Killing Bambi's Mother?

This could be rife with intrigue. What part did Thumper play in her death? Is Flower the skunk really so cute and innocent? And what about the gunshot we hear? Who is that? Elmer Fudd? That's an incredible twist, a Warner Brothers character works his way into the Disney realm.

While on the subject of Disney, we need a book Killing Gaston. He's the guy in Beauty and the Beast who ends up impaled on a cluster of spikes when he falls from a tower. Gaston provides us with the opportunity for some back-story. Why did he grow up the way he did? He leads an angry mob to do away with The Beast. The book would personalize some of the people in that mob, and their relationship with Gaston, and if The Beast threatened his masculinity. Of course he didn't just fall from the tower at the end; someone pushed him. We need to know.

Finally, and not to belabor the point nor bore you any further, I want to read a book called Killing Jimmy. Here we peek behind the steel curtain of the Teamster's Union and get the real story of what happened to Jimmy Hoffa.

The events that lead to the decision to get rid of him, who gave the final thumbs down or "sleeps with the fishes" pronouncement. He was last seen outside a restaurant in the Detroit suburbs. Maybe the restaurant owner poisoned him because he was a lousy tipper. Maybe it was really an accident because he had a platter of spoiled oysters. Maybe it was more in the Teamsters' style involving a back-hoe, a cement mixer ("putty putty") or an acetylene torch. The president of the U.S. at the time of the killing was Gerald Ford. For 25 years, Ford served as the Representative from Michigan's 5th Congressional district. That includes Detroit. Hmmmmm.

And so the proliferation of titles goes on and on. If I were a biographer, I would jump on any of these possibilities. But I'm not. I'm must a lonely blogger with the world at his fingertips considering the possibilities.

Which brings me back to Bill O'Reilly. Maybe it's time to start another book.

Whatever the Question, Chicken Soup is the Answer

In 1993 an enterprising duo of inspirational speakers published a book called “Chicken Soup for the Soul.” It was a huge hit and spawned an endless parade of subsequent titles. In the 19 intervening years, Chicken Soup has become the kudzu of the literary world, engulfing just about every aspect of human need, condition, classification and emotion possible. Almost 200 titles have been published. 

Consider the following Chicken Soup subjects:

From General Souls we now have Specific Souls: Chicken Soup for the Girl’s Soul, the Recovering Soul, the Prisoner’s Soul, the Bride’s Soul, the New Mom’s Soul, PreTeens soul, Teenage Soul, Romantic Soul, Couple’s Souls, even one dedicated to Messages from Heaven. As well as College Souls, Entrepreneur Souls and Military Wife’s Souls. If you want to see the complete list, check out the link at the end of this post.

And here’s the shrewdest part of all. Most of those stories are written by the people who read the books, albeit with some editors’ input. It seems almost everyone on this planet has a story to share.

I almost submitted a story during a recent call for submissions. The subject of an upcoming  book was “Chicken Soup for the Soul: I Can’t Believe My Dog Did That.” I thought about my dog Sadie, a golden retriever. She’s very smart. Among other accomplishments, she retrieves two newspapers every morning, the NY Times and the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. She brings them in, holds them in her mouth until I take them from her, then walks over and slams the door shut. That, I thought, might be worth a Chicken Soup contribution. But as with so many of my ideas, I waited too long and the Nov. 30 deadline passed. Sadie knew I missed it and was miffed, because one week later she brought in the papers as usual, and gave me the Post. This time, however, she took the Times over to the dining room table, slipped the blue plastic cover off the paper, took out the sports section, spread it on the table with her paws, then looked at me and said, in a clear, gentle voice reminiscent of Dame Judi Densch, “Looks to me as though Eli and the Giants will end up in the Super Bowl.”  Then she gave me a look that said, clearly, “Don’t miss the next deadline, pal.”

At the time I didn’t think the Giants had a chance. In retrospect, I’m sorry she didn’t make her prediction before Nov. 30. I would’ve submitted something for sure.

A couple of days ago my daughter, Holly, informed me she had a sore throat. I suggested tea and honey, gargle with salt water, and lots of chicken soup. The kind in a bowl, not soft-bound. She said she had done the tea and honey, but not the chicken soup. Then my wife reminded me:  Holly’s a vegetarian. That took me right into a very exciting concept: A line of books for vegetarians. Call it the Lentil Soup series: Lentil Soup for the Vegetarian’s Soul,” “..for the Salad Lover’s Soul,” “..for the Beans and Rice Soul,” “...for the Tofu Soul.” And even, “Lentil Soup for People Who Don’t Like Chicken Soup.” That would be a limited edition, maybe for some Third World nation that holds the chicken to be sacred.

I’ll keep working on that concept. Maybe a “Tomato Soup” series for Nursing Home Residents. Ideas are welcome.

Here’s one more idea before I end this. A line of books for atheists, or any other group that doesn’t believe in a soul. “Chicken Soup for the Atheist’s Soul” will be 8 blank pages and a coupon good for 3 cans of Progresso Chicken Noodle Soup.

 http://www.chickensoup.com/cs.asp?cid=titles