Michael Gerard Bauer Author

blog 77: In which three men walk into a bar but I’m not sure why or who they are or what happens there.

Posted on March 9, 2015 by mgbauer

I’ve been thinking a bit about HUMOUR recently because on Saturday JUNE 13th 2015 I’ll be presenting an all-day HOW TO WRITE FUNNY workshop at the GONDOR WRITERS’ CENTRE Kilcoy . You can see the other fantastic presenters and their workshop times and details HERE.

Now I like to think I can be humorous at times. (No, I’m serious. I do. You should check out my private facebook page posts, if you don’t believe me. I did one on April 22 2011 that got six Likes. SIX LIKES. And two of those weren’t even from me!) Anyway, as evidence of my jocularity, I could point out that I have had books published and listed under the category of ‘Humour’.

'Killing himself laughing.' (c) JOE BAUER

‘Killing yourself laughing.’ (c) JOE BAUER

But the thing is, even though I hope I can say or write funny things or create funny stories and characters, what I’m not good at, is telling (or retelling) formal jokes. Not proper ones. Not ones with beginnings, middles and punchlines.

Some people on the other hand, are excellent at it and they seem to have a joke for every occasion. It’s like, Hey speaking of non-violent resistance, Surrealism and cooking, did you hear the one about Gandhi and Salvador Dali teaming up as contestants on My Kitchen Rules?

My problem with formal joke-telling is two-fold.

1. THE PRESSURE.

I don’t mind being in a group of people and occasionally coming out with a pun or a witty comment or observation, because you have, what one of my characters describes as, ‘the elephant of surprise’ on your side. You can catch people off guard and leave them thinking, Well what do you know? I thought he was the dullest person living in the dullest neighbourhood in Dullsville, but then he said that thing and for a second there, I ALMOST smiled!

But it’s very different when you set yourself to tell a formal joke. When someone says ‘Hey have you heard the one about …’ what they are really saying is, Hey everybody! Stop what you’re doing and give all your attention to me for the next few minutes because I’m going to tell you a story and at the end I guarantee you will laugh and I’ll appear clever and witty even though the story and the ideas I’m about to share aren’t even my own.

There’s way too much pressure being a formal JOKE-TELLER for me.

I don’t even like the pressure of being a JOKE-LISTENER!

What if he/she gets to the end of the joke and I don’t get it? Should I pretend that I do? What if someone then asks me to explain it to them and I can’t and everyone realises I was being a phoney and just pretending?

What if I do get it, but I think it’s a heap of pathetic crap? Do I laugh anyway out of politeness and let everyone think that I’ve just found a heap of pathetic crap hilarious? Or do I just say, ‘That joke you told was a heap of pathetic crap’ and possibly upset the teller?

What if the joke is offensive to someone’s religion, or it’s racist, sexist or ageist? (Or worse still, makes fun of authors!) Do I stand up for my principles or just let it pass, so as not to cause a stir?

What if I’ve heard the joke before? Do I stop them right at the start? Or do I let them rabbit on for the next ten minutes and then just before the big punchline say, ‘Oh yeah, now that I think about it, I have heard that one.’

What if the person starts doing accents or ‘funny’ voices to help tell the story but they’re really bad at it or I don’t recognise what accent it’s supposed to be or I can’t understand a word they’re saying?

See what I mean? So much pressure. Listening to someone tell a joke is dangerous. It’s like picking your way through a mine field! (Only without any actual mines. Or a field.)

2. REMEMBERING JOKES.

My other problem with formal jokes is that they just don’t stay in my head for long. Some people seem to be able to store up countless jokes in their memory banks and then regurgitate them at will. (What has poor Will done to deserve this!) Occasionally I hear or read a joke that I think is really funny but by the next day it’s either vanished completely from my mind or it’s faded beyond recognition.

Hey I heard this great joke yesterday about this guy who bought a zebra from the pet shop and when he took it home his wife … no wait on … it was a giraffe I think, not a zebra … yeah a giraffe definitely … or an armadillo … hold on … now I come to think of it, it might have been his wife who bought it … yeah that’s right, she bought it … orrrrr … it escaped from the zoo …. yeah that’s it, that’s what happened … anyway whatever kind of animal is was, it eventually turns up at their house somehow … or did their kid bring it home … not sure … I don’t think it’s important … but I know they had a kid and also there was something else about a banjo … and a local politician … and a singing frog … I can’t remember all the details exactly or how it all went together … but jeez, it was a scream!

Be that as it may, the truth is, that sometimes circumstances arise, where it would be good to have a joke handy. For example if everyone’s going around the table sharing a joke and you don’t have one, it can be pretty demoralising.

So in order to solve this problem and avoid becoming a social outcast because of my joke-telling inadequacies, I decided that all I really needed to do, was to find just ONE short, straight forward, screamingly-hilarious joke. Once I did that, I could commit it permanently to my memory and have it on stand by as a fool-proof winner. It would be MY ONE SURE-FIRE JOKE FOR ALL JOKE-TELLING OCCASIONS!

And after a great deal of work and research, I finally found the perfect joke for my needs and I’m happy to say that it is now safely locked away inside my head, ready to be trotted out for hilarious effect, whenever required.

Like right now!

So here it is. MY ONE SURE-FIRE JOKE FOR ALL JOKE-TELLING OCCASIONS.

There’s this guy and he desperately wants to get into this classy nightclub but the bouncer says he can’t get in without a tie, sooooooooooooooo he …

Huh? What? You’ve heard it before?

BUMMER! 😦

Cheers
Michael
ps: Thanks to JOE BAUER for the use of his old cartoons.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged cartoons, Gondor Writers' Centre, Humour, Joe Bauer, jokes, Writing Workshop | 14 Comments

REBLOG#6: (a blog from the backlog!) blog 11: In which I ponder whether a rose by any other name would just be confusing.

Posted on February 6, 2015 by mgbauer

: I’ll say it for you: “Haven’t changed a bit!”

The story goes that I was given the name Michael because when my mother was pregnant with me, the old lady next door said something like, ‘Not long now till Michael is born.’ For some reason she just assumed that would be my name even though my mother had never suggested it. I like to think our neighbour back then was psychic and had foreseen some great destiny for me. On the other hand, she might have been clinically insane which would probably explain a lot about her. And me.

As it turned out, I’m glad I was called Michael. I like my name. That probably started when I was in Grade Two at the local Catholic School and our teacher said we all had Guardian Angels looking after us. I soon found out that my Guardian Angel wasn’t just any run of the clouds dude. He was the head man, the El Supremo, the Big Kahuna. He was Michael the Archangel – the Aragorn of Angels!

: This is the guy who’s got my back? ALL RIGHT!!!!!!

Not only that, but in the classroom there was this massive heavy vinyl poster of A-A Michael dressed in armour and standing on top of a mountain peak surrounded by dark clouds and lightning, holding forth a sword to the sky. He looked like he’d been really working out too! No doubt about it, if you were going to have a Guardian Angel, then this was the guy you wanted. It was like being given Shintaro or the Terminator or Superman as your personal body-guard! Suddenly I was indestructible! I immediately went up and confronted the grade two bully. I was immediately beaten to a pulp. Apparently the Lord works in really annoying ways.

Another interesting thing about having Michael as your name, is how many different forms and variations it can take. More than just about any other name I can think of. Personally, I always refer to myself as Michael. Sometimes I say Mike but it feels a bit strange and a little too intimate. I just don’t think I know me that well. Besides it always sounds false and pretentious when people refer to themselves in the third person and Michael Gerard Bauer is definitely not the kind of person to do that!

However I don’t mind at all what other people call me and I have many close family and friends who never use Michael at all, preferring Mike or Mick as well as variations such as Mikey, Micky, Mikail and even occasionally Michelle! At one time my cousin and best friend took a shine to calling me Mitch. When I was little I often got the double bunger Michael Gerard but also sadly Micky Drippin’. (I’d like to stress here, that to the best of my knowledge, the Drippin’ was a reference to the stuff you cook with, not to any allegedly leaky part of my anatomy).

I think we’d all agree that Mickey Drippin’ is taking creative name mangling too far!

I’ve since discovered that I’m not the only Michael whose had liberties taken with their name. One girl told me that as a child her father was called Underdaks Micky (That’s gold!) and a boy once said when he was little he got Mickety Pickety! What is wrong with you non-Michael people out there?! Haven’t you got anything better to do?

Which brings me to the important moment in my life when I had to settle on an author name.

My first book was going to be published and I was faced with a big decision. What name should I go with? Michael Bauer or Mike Bauer or Mick Bauer or Michael G. Bauer or M. G. Bauer or M. Gerard Bauer or Mike G. Bauer etc etc etc? In the end I decided on Michael Gerard Bauer.

Garage desk

Here’s why:

The main reason was, that as a name (and possibly a person) Michael Bauer was just too common. There are heaps of us. Bauer (meaning Farmer) is like the name Smith in Germany, although some people here have trouble pronouncing it. (No it’s not Boo-ah or even Bore! It’s Bow-er. Just like Jack ‘I’m-gonna-shoot-your-wife-in-the-leg-again-if-you-don’t-tell-me-where-the-secret-nuclear-lab-is-located’ Bauer from the TV show 24). So now at least if you were to put Michael Gerard Bauer in inverted commas and Google it (not that I’d ever do such a thing!!) you’d basically just get me and not, for example, a famous food critic from the San Francisco Chronicle, or an unconventional artist from Germany. (By the way, I heartily encourage you to click on that artist’s link and read the descriptions under MB’s first two paintings. We have so much in common!)
MGB – Not too cool for school!

But there are drawbacks to choosing the name Michael Gerard Bauer as your author’s name. They are these:

~ You sound like a bit of poser. Especially when people pronounce your middle name Geraaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrd rather than Gerrid like it’s meant to be.

Hmmmmm.

~ The longer your name the harder it is to fit on the cover of your books so it will be in smaller font and we all know the size of the author’s name is usually in direct proportion to the author’s success and popularity.

~ Finally, having three names can confuse people. Is his last name Bauer or Gerard-Bauer? And what order did they go in again?

GMB? It just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

These days when I weigh up all the pros and cons, I’m very happy with my decision to go with Michael Gerard Bauer. Except perhaps for this one nagging doubt:

Maybe if I’d chosen something like Micky Drippin’ Underdaks, I might have ended up the next Andy Griffiths.

Cheers
Michael/Mike/Mick etc

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Gerard Manly Hopkins, MGB, Michael Gerard Bauer | Leave a comment

blog 76: In which I just sit back and let Meg Bauer do all the work.

Posted on January 29, 2015 by mgbauer

Processed with VSCOcam with g3 preset

My daughter Meg is one of my all time favourite writers. Here’s a little piece she wrote a while back about an incident that happened to her on a Melbourne train.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Intro: Train

A girl is staring above her, to a scrolling screen. The text moves to reveal “The next station is …Melbourne Central”. She smiles (I was going to write “aloud”). She smiles aloud, acknowledging to herself that this is the correct train, after all, and she is heading in the right direction. She need only travel one stop. Unbeknownst to her, the man sitting opposite is studying her closely, as if waiting for a sign; and the smile not intended for him, emboldens him to speak.

“Hello!”

She looks down and into his face. She does not recognise this man. He is a stranger. She observes that he is Caucasian, forty plus, dressed unremarkably, a little overweight.

“Hello,” she responds, out of courtesy.

“What’s your name?”

It occurs to her that the man is below-average intelligence. She can’t pinpoint his condition, but it is evident that he is “not the full quid”. Only one stop, she repeats, in her head.

“Meg.”

“Megan!” He holds the name up with childlike delight, as you would an especially perfect shell. He is thrilled with this fortuitous discovery.

“I made something for you, Megan.”

The girl frowns.

“You did just meet me now, though…” She trails off, watching as he rummages in his backpack.

“I knew!” He freezes, jerking up to look her in the eyes.

“Have you ever had a poster of a movie poster?”

She asks him, reluctantly, to repeat the question.

“Have you ever had a poster of a movie poster?”

“Not…no, I don’t think so. But I am getting off at the next stop…” she warns, indicating that there may not be enough time for this transaction to take place.

He hands her a large piece of paper. Sure enough, her name – “Megan” – is written along the top. She notes the childlike handwriting, and assumes he is illiterate. Each letter looks like it has been carefully replicated. She scans the document and sees that it is a list of films, each featuring Megan Fox. It is her cinematic resume. He had even cut tiny cover images from her movies, no doubt from a video store catalogue, and pasted them along the bottom.

“This is very…surprising,” she offers, her sense of humour returning.

“When you get home, stick it on your wall.”

She smiles, suddenly aware that everyone in the carriage is tuned in to this absurdist play.

“Here – I’ll fold it for you so it can go in your bag.”

He takes great care in folding the paper, and places it inside her open bag.

As the train slows to a halt, she stands, thanks him for the gift, and steps out and onto the platform.

Exit scene

Fast-forward two hours

The girl is in her apartment, unpacking her shopping. She discovers the piece of paper, and recalls the afternoon’s encounter on the train. Smiling, she blu-taks it to her fridge. We’re all a little bit nuts, she reminds herself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

# Meg blogs her writing (but nowhere near often enough) at BECAUSEIFELLINLOVEWITHWORDS.

# Meg blogs about her love of nature (she is the Communications Co-ordinator for the Wilderness Society) at TREAT ‘EM GREEN.

# If you love both BOOKS and NATURE like Meg, then check out the Wilderness Society’s ENVIRONMENT AWARD FOR CHILDREN’S LITERATURE page. To see what great authors like John Marsden, Nick Earls, Hazel Edwards, Graeme Base and Rebecca Johnson feel about nature, click on the NEWS link and scroll down. (I’m there too but don’t let that put you off.)

Cheers
Michael

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Environment Award for Children's Literature, Meg Bauer, Melbourne, Wilderness Society, Writing | 1 Comment

A brief musical (?) interlude.

Posted on January 15, 2015 by mgbauer

Before my next blog, a brief musical interlude from the Return of the Dugongs Concert at the White Ravens Festival in Munich with Timm, Holger, Michael, Thilo and Traugott from the Hamburg band GONE FISHIN’ and featuring Nicki von Tempelhoff on vocals.

I’m there too. I’m the one doing a poor imitation of singing while desperately (and occasionally unsuccessfully) trying to remember the words of my own songs. Despite that, it was still one of the best nights of my life. (And yes, I miss the high five at the end. 😦 )

In the book the song Memory Sea is written by Ishmael’s father about his best friend and fellow Dugong’s band member, drummer Billy Mangan. Billy is tragically killed in a car accident just as it seems the band is on the verge of success. His death is also the end of the band, that is , until over 20 years later, they reform with a surprising replacement drummer for the Return of the Dugongs Concert …

MEMORY SEA

I just turned around and you were gone
They said. ‘That’s how it is, life goes on.’
But every now and then I float away
And find myself adrift in yesterday.

And I’m drowning in a memory sea
I’m drowning in a memory sea
I’m drowning in a memory sea
But no-one there can rescue me.

All the things that used to ring so true
Turned into a lie when I lost you
And now I’m trying to find what I can see
In all the broken dreams you left for me.

Chorus:

I remember all the things you used to do
I loved you more than I ever knew
It’s time to leave the past behind I know
But I’m not sure that I can let you go

Chorus: