Week 482: Remembering Jon Brower Minnoch; Five Acts of Daily Goodness; the A to Z of Slang and Catchphrases

Jon Brower Minnoch (1941-1983) was, and remains, the heaviest known human being ever to live (according to Guiness). He topped out at 1400 pounds ( a hundred stone in the UK). He holds many weight related records including the most pounds lost (900 plus) and the greatest weight difference between husband and wife (1300). Mr. and Mrs. Minnoch had two children, which is testament to both the determination of life and a prime example of something I’d rather not consider too deeply.

I knew him. Well, through my parents. My father had known him in school, long before Jon’s metabolism went completely haywire on him. We lived in the same small town of Winslow, Washington, the only city on Bainbridge Island, and during the sixties, Jon was the only cab driver in town. Although my parents divorced when I was six, I still recall standing beside Dad as he shot the breeze with Jon, who sat in his specially fitted cab. He weighed “only” about five, six hundred at that time, but it was enough for me to be cautioned about staring.

Years passed and my brother and I would often talk about the “Fat Taxi Cab Driver.” The driver’s side of his vehicle almost scraped the ground and he was a hell of a site, all crammed in there. When I was about twenty I read that he was the heaviest person ever and that it took the entire Winslow Fire Department to extract Jon from his house and take him to the hospital; where he dropped the 900 pounds.

Over time I have often considered writing fiction based on Jon Brower Minnoch, but have never done so–and at this late date, I doubt that I will ever produce more than this about him. When I think about him I wonder what it must be like to have something about you that stands out so much that it is impossible for anyone to associate anything but it with you. That must be terribly isolating and it inevitably draws me to another man, a guy I saw while I was working in a grocery store years ago. He stood four feet tall and had hooks for hands. He was a regular customer and I waited on him every now and then in my department. One day, a young couple with a toddler seated in their shopping cart entered the department and the man with the hooks entered the child’s sight. She freaked out–to put it mildly. I’m certain that he looked like a monster to her. It was so obvious that the mother apologized to him. He just smiled and said no problem. I find his situation to be even worse, association-wise, for it cannot be changed, even though he was far healthier than Jon Minnoch must have been.

Other than touching on those items here, as only examples, I have a funny thing about exploitation in writing. I believe that everything is fair game topic-wise, yet for me motivation for using certain subject materials is more important. And I believe that my fellow Editors feel the same way.

At LS, if If you are going to write about spree shootings, rape, injustice, dementia and pain in general, it had better be radiant with honesty. Now, most of the stuff we see with such as the subject are obviously sincere–which is never to be confused with publishable quality. Yet, once in a great while something slick and obviously written with an eye on publication oozes in; something shamelessly contrived, and I must ask myself did this person even once place *himself in the “other guy’s shoes?” Did this writer imagine what it was like to have children scream at the sight of him as though he were a monster?–Or imagine how it must have been to use a public toilet?” Funny thing here is that nearly all art is exploitative at some level. Still it isn’t a fine line. The sole litmus test is to ask yourself “Do I mean it?” (*My only apology for “sexist” language. Her/him is clunky and all other forms are asinine at best–so I will alternate from here on.)

Now, these are only my thoughts, which are all I have to call my own, and are not presented to prevent submissions regarding the previously mentioned topics. But it is the “Do I Mean It?” of the thing that sticks to me.

We all have our weaknesses and creating segues that do not break and half and sink like the Edmund Fitzgerald is certainly high on the list of Leila Allison inabilities. Still, we all must trudge the hard path and be judged on the effort as well as the results in the end. And with that said, let’s review five writers who easily passed the litmus test of sincere writing this week. Three are new to us and two old friends appear for the third time.

Newcomer Brooksie C Fontaine opened the week with a story that proves the old adage about books and covers. A whole bunch of Unicorns have been sent away from the LS tower, but Unicorn Hunt has the magic touch. It weaves its way through fantasy and realism–this ethereal story floats bits of the fantastic across the void and pollinates hard reality.

We welcomed back Ed Kratz this week with his third story, Mallet, Stake, Button. The Undead have an even tougher time crossing the moat than do single horned magical Horses. But since moat water is usually still (save for the Gators and Piranhas splashing), there’s a chance for the odd Vampire to cross. And Ed certainly nailed (cross and nailed puns intended) it undead on with this highly imaginative and smart look at making a (un) living. We also congratulate Ed for his continuing professionalism as a writer.

Our second newcomer, Dennis Kohler, arrived with The Vase on Wednesday. At first you might think “How sweet, fairies for a woman nearing the end.” But Fairies and Daemons are closely related. In fact most Fairies turn into Daemons after a few pints while daemons only intensify their poor attitudes. Regardless, this tale of darkness and self realization is harrowing; but you gain a sense of coming full circle, of healing scars by the end. Extremely well put together.

Our second return writer is also back for the third time (actually four–since one returned for the Christmas festival last year). Assumed Position by TL Tomljanovic is the perfect example why I refuse to board a plane (I’ve flown only once; never again). Tatiana has a fine knack of weaving droll wit into her stories and this is evident with a fairly cool-headed MC facing a dire situation.

The Young Man by our third debut writer, Danny Antonelli explores the distance between the corporate drones and those persons who are as close to being truly free as one can get. And yet with the sighting of a ship, he’d gladly leave the ocean “paradise.” The insights carry weight and there’s enough mystery to the actual mindset of the eponymous “Young Man” to wonder about him, yet he has depth; he and the lecherous Blond Boy character are well drawn in a few strokes

There we go, our week’s performers. All of whom we hope to be highlighting again on a another Saturday in the near future.

Being an American who works on this site with natives of the UK, I have discovered that there is a pleasurable difference in slang terms–especially insults.

Slang is certainly dependent on your geographical location as well as “when” you are from. When I was a kid in the 1960’s, the word “groovy” was never popular in the American Pacific Northwest–but was everywhere else. Around here, only the spazzes said it; it rated low and out of style along with “swell” and “nifty.” And stuff like “chill” and “rad” had Mayfly existences in the 1980’s only. Yet “cool,” “man” and “Jesus H. Christ” transcend the decades and remain as popular as ever. Then we have the peculiar survival of “dude.” In the sixties it meant a John Wayne cowboy sort of person; then it turned to “John Shaft” in the seventies until finally finding a permanent home in surfer speak, popularized by Sean Penn as “Spicoli” in Fast Times at Ridgemont High High. In the USA, slang is heavily dependent on phrases from television and movies–which have fairly short shelf lives.

As you will plainly see, my definition of slang is quite wide and, for some, no doubt, inaccurate. Mainly, the critics will say that these are more along the line of Catch Phrases. Of course the critics are usually right, but they also tend to eat alone.

Anyway, what follows is my A to Z of best liked (or most heard) slang words and expressions that have had various amounts of time in the spotlight. I will fill all the blanks to allow suggestions for any letter to be offered by the readership. (Those that are new to me via my UK connections get an *.)

• “Arsed”*
• “Beautimous” (Circa 1983)
• “Cocked up”*
• “Digestive biscuit”* (regarding beige writing)
• “Excuuuuse meeee!!!” (half the time Well is used before it–via Steve Martin–I learned to hate that one real fast)
• “Fag”* (as in cigarette)
• “Going medieval” (spoke in many ways–courtesy Pulp Fiction)
• “He’s got a purty mouth” (first of two courtesy of Deliverance)
• “I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you” (I have a special hate for that one)
• “Jesus H. Christ!” (sometimes you have to stand by the profane classics)
• “Keep on Truckin’” (remember the poster?)
• “Let’s do lunch” (I am happy to report that I have never said that in earnest)
• “Mystery meat”
• “Nanoo-nanoo” (I swear every dork in Seattle said that from 1978-80)
• “Oh no! It’s Mr. Bill” (one of a billion created by Saturday Night Live yet another dork chant)
• “Pillock”*
• “Quid”*
• “Rat Bastard” (my favorite)
• “Shut the Front Door!” (also “Show me the money!” Cuba Gooding Jr)
• “That boy’s deformed!” (Porky’s)
• “Up your nose with a rubber hose” (Welcome Back Kotter–all kinds of stupid shit can be found in that one)
• “Vern” used in many ways–”inspired” by “Ernest” (this one officialized the fall of Western civilization)
• “Where’s the Beef?” (Took a long long time for that to fade to black)
• “X-File burrito” (synonym for mystery meat)
• “You soft, like a lady” (second from Deliverance)
• “Zoinks!” (Scooby Doo)

Leila