Wednesday, January 11, 2012

NaNoWriMo Openers: 'When Clu Created the Tronsgendered'

It's already 2012, and we have yet to address 2011's NaNoWriMo, or, "National Novel Writing Month." We have failed.

As explained last time, NaNoWriMo is something of an online tradition, when people who may not do much reading and certainly even less writing agree to put inexperience behind them and create an entire novel in 30 days. Like looking at a schematic an eight-year-old has drawn up for a treehouse, most NaNoWriMo works focus on wish-fulfillment at odds with basic rules, helpful guidelines, good taste or reality.

NaNoWriMo also doesn't seem to impart many lessons — or at least heeded lessons. An unstructured exercise only works as a learning tool if you have willing readers with a critical eye or the kind of self-awareness that allows you to discover the errors in style and structure you missed while writing. Mostly, it relies on the familiar non-writer's fallacy that writing is like talking, and anyone can do it. You already tell funny stories out loud, so the essential difference between that and a novel is time: novels are longer, and writing is slower because there's typing involved. NaNoWriMo is a game of endurance, and nothing makes that more obvious than reading its output.

Which is why, thankfully, nobody here has written one. Like last year, a group of Twitter wags have instead written only the opening lines to masterpieces that the universe, in its wisdom, will one day complete via random chance. Unfortunately, because Twitter archives all tweets beyond a certain "live" number, many contributions were lost to dumb website policy. A lot of wonderfully funny people couldn't be included. Here are the few that could be tracked down.

Bullet points link back to the original tweet; please click and follow people you enjoy, and please make sure that you give credit to the person who deserves it. (Formatting tweets in this way makes things easier in terms of presentation but should not be mistaken for authorship.)


Our story begins with the funeral of gender.

As he loaded spoken word into the teleporter, Dr. Cornelius Rap had no idea sick funk beats lurked in the chamber as well.

"Actually it would be considered ephebophelia," I yelled, sounding tough like Samuel L Jackson in Pulp Fiction.

You might think being married to both Flo the Progressive Gal & Capt. Janeway would be all fun & games. You'd be right.

"We need something to eat all of this food and treat us like shit." "Quick," Valerius replied, "send up the Cat Signal."

I switched to the other line. "We can't phone sex right now. The President needs me. The army has been hacked."

Yakko, Wakko and Dot Animaniac woke up covered in sex fluids again, which was gross, because they were all related.

Ironically, it was the mask of a sixteenth century religious terrorist that would finally lead the world to freethought.

They always said there was no such thing as a great "bad beat" story about fantasy football. Now I know they were wrong.

"Are you sure it only works if we're naked?" Skrillex laughed & pulled me out the window. But we didn't fall...we flew.

I had built the Time Machine to go back & kick Scott Norwood in the nuts... but I would learn about myself along the way.

Even before his pants were pulled off, he'd never have guessed that JD Salinger was a cute teen who wanted to meet gamers.

Just another day in the Technofactory, where average worker Mainguy Characterarc used nanolasers to vizzulate the Gunts.

"Dear @NancyGraceHLN," the cut-out letters began. "I was born a half-negro, half-blond child—and I have kidnapped myself!"

Mario Incandenza III was the greatest zombie-hunter this side of the Great Concavity¹ ² ³.

"Pointing it out actually makes *you* the racist," I said. All the black people clapped. The libturd started crying.

Millions of American Radball League fans wept as the Marine Color Band played "Axel F" for deceased President Awesome.

A NOTE ON THE TEXT: "Consent" if such a thing can be said to exist, is a very difficult concept to accurately nail down.

January 17, 2013. The Nasty Jam virus was unleashed, and with it, a wave of filthy dunking zombies. I had to find Shaq.

Having completed his political memoir, it was time to begin chapter one of The Sex Education of Henry Adams.

Sawed-off shotgun. Katana. Grenades. Nunchaku. 44 magnum. Bazooka. A pair of 50 caliber Desert Eagles. C4. Grappling hook.

"That's a TWO, Diamond Phillips," said the blackjack dealer, only making Lou angrier. He would not live five minutes more.

I held my shotgun menacingly. Billy Corgan thought the world was a Vampire... turns out it's a Zombie. A lot of Zombies.

Pundits scoffed at his prediction of an "NKO TB" outbreak, but hangin' tough left him with the right stuff in an epidemic.

The only "affirmative action" in this steam powered paradise was to "affirm" good old-fashioned American values!

On the morning of the day the world changed forever, he awoke to find that all his GI Joes had real functioning wieners.

"But you're--" "Yes, it's me, Sasha Grey," she finished. They say don't fall in love with your WOW guildies, but...

It was always my favorite collective noun, but today "A Simulacra of Kreayshawns" became the holodeck setting I married…

Once again, on his sail barge, master Karl Rove loses his temper with his protocol droid and disintegrates it.

There I was, the first Libertarian President of bark bark damn it mom the dog stays outside this is my speech-to-text time

April 23, 2017. I'll never forget that day... when I first used my wondrous invention to make a sexy Tumblr girl real

"Finally," cried Dr. Dissonance, "I have successfully removed the irony center from Lou Reed's brain! Muahahaha!"

"Careful what you shoot at, Ryan—some things in here don't react too well to bullets," Paul Ryan thought, abusing himself.

"These glasses will allow you see in the autism spectrum," the doctor whispered. I put them on... and nothing changed.

My tamagochi died today. Maybe yesterday. I don't know.

"My Hitler jokes are ironic, Your Honor", the unkempt, heavyset man testified, cementing an additional perjury charge.

In all the lawlessness of Gotham City, there was only one thing that was still a crime: skateboarding.

I didn't know a GPS device could be a jerk, but there I was, closely following the route that led directly up my own ass

"Hello, John. This is the President speaking. Get your team together. We have a situation only the Bronies can handle."

This was it—this was his big break. had begun shooting his screenplay of the saga of the Egyptian god Apubis.

"Nobody move or Hitler gets it!" I yelled, holding the syringe of immortality juice to the Fuhrer's jugular

I rose from bed slowly, careful not to awaken the Swedish Blogging Twins. Just another day as the world's sexiest Redditor

My name's Dick Liquor and I'm a hard-boiled detective with a name that looks really cool but please don't say it out loud

Our story begins on the Rizzolean Isles, which Captain Cook described as "an 'awkwardpelago' of sublimated lesbianism."

Adolf Hitler emerged from the bunker and saw his shadow. Looks like it would be six more weeks of World War II

Over 10,000 years ago, the Undying God-King Paul rid the cosmos of the dreaded Federal Reserve. Or so we had thought...

My magnum opus about kitchen implements was chosen to kick off a prestigious French film fest – it's called Cannes Opener

The doctor peered into the pregnant woman's WOMBWOMBWOMBWOMBWOMBWOMB "Ma'am, you're having a dubstep baby"

One bomb, one madman and one case of mistaken identity had made #1-#4 on the FBI's Most Wanted charts members of Jodeci.

"Step One" I whispered, slitting Rube Goldberg's throat with Occam's Razor. "Done"

"Actually MOM," I spat, "just making jokes about things that are popular on the internet IS a legitimate creative effort."


  1. > On the morning of the day the world changed forever, he awoke to find that all his GI Joes had real functioning wieners.

    oh... oh my.....

  2. Two things...

    1) Your tone suggests that National Novel Writers Month doesn't produce good work. (Which makes sense considering that you're an Obama-loving elitist Socialist Communist Constitution-hating namby-pamby. AND you're probably an activist judge or a public school teachercrat in your spare time. But I digress...) Well, sir, you are wrong! Both "The Rural Juror" AND "Urban Fervor" by Kevin Grisham were products of NaNoWriMo. So there.

    2) The Chopped contestants were confused upon seeing syrup of ipecac in the basket, but host Ann Coulter just smiled. #NaNoWriMo

  3. I was listening to a Cex song when I saw one of his jokes linked on here, and wasn't following his Twitter until now; it was a strange coincidence. Thanks for posting these.


Et tu, Mr. Destructo? is a politics, sports and media blog whose purpose is to tell jokes or be really right about things. All of us have real jobs and don't need the hassle that telling jokes here might occasion, which is why some contributors find it more tasteful to pretend to be dead mass murderers.