Sunday, September 15, 2013

Awaiting My Nobel Peace Prize

It not a bad thing that our leaders have delayed unleashing the Hell Hounds of War in the Middle East.
They never get tired.
True, those dogs never seem to fatigue, war after war. But I have once again awakened at 3 a.m. with a brilliant idea.
Me if my hair were brown at 3 a.m.
An idea which I hasten now to share, knowing that the Nobel Peace Committee will be meeting soon to award this year’s prize.
I look good in gold.
My plan is certain to attract their attention.
I realized that the Drone operators are all expert gamers, sitting there in their bunkers in Kansas, or Colorado, or wherever with their Drone joy sticks.
It's just a game.
Joystick—now there’s a fun word to pair with an exploding missile.
So I got to thinking. Who else do I know who’s good at games. And I immediately thought of Dinah Hawthorne from fourth grade.
Not the real Dinah, but just as cute
Dinah was the Wilder Elementary School jacks champion six years in a row, a record that has not been broken to this day.
Dinah winning again
And that’s not putting down the drone operators, who can sail those Drone Predator beauties right into a limo tail pipe.
Also awe inspiring
It’s just that watching Dinah do the cross-hand six-jack pickup was a thing of beauty that the explosion of no Predator could match for me.
A close second to the cross-hand pickup
So my proposal is to fly Dinah to Syria to compete in a jacks tournament. Once they see the finesse and grace involved in sweeping jacks from a concrete step, I’m certain insurgents and loyalists alike will be fascinated to try. Why I predict that jacks competitions could become the Next Big Thing (right after my book) not only in the Middle East but in Asia, Subsaharan Africa, and Northern Ireland.
Where jacks competitions are catching on
Well maybe in Northern Ireland they would play jacks between fistfights. The Irish just seem to have fighting in their DNA. Why I knew an old Irishman who claimed he’d have a stroke if he didn’t get in one good argument while the sun was still up. (But that’s another blog.)
If war is in your DNA, okay. Just don't let it get out of hand.

Just imagine it. All over the globe hundreds of thousands of angry tyrants’ armies and insurgents and just plain disgruntleds laying down their portable grenade launchers and playing jacks
Soldiers rushing to play jacks or something
and shouting, “I won.” And the beauty of this idea? Both the winner and the runner up stay alive.
Stayin' Alive

I wonder if the Peace Committee can meet in Brooklyn this year. I’ve got a great pizza joint for them.

Serving the Nobel Peace Committee pizza

I’ll wear my medal to take them there.

Thanks for reading my Next Big Thing. See you again at 3 a.m.?


  1. If I were Irish, I'd be outraged by that fighting in the DNA remark, and demand you put up your fists because laddie, it'd be go time.

    Time for you to get the Nobel. These days they're handing them out to everyone.

  2. Thanks for reading, William. Hey folks, check out William Kendall's blog at Don't worry. Picking a fight with an Irishman is a way to flatter him. Tell the Nobel Committee I'm home most morning, writing.