Samples of Bill Johnson's Writing
Humorous Essay
Gone are the days when men were men and women were women. By that I mean gone is the time when I could go to the men’s room without getting involved in a conversation. That bygone era was a golden age, marked by beautiful, dignified silence. It was a time when an unwritten law was understood by all men: “No talking in the Men’s Room”. This law was faithfully obeyed without exception.
Say, for example, a man were suddenly to notice standing at the urinal next to him his long-lost father whom he hasn’t seen for twenty years. Under normal circumstances, there would be some sort of immediate emotional reaction. Not so in the men's room. No, in this case the reunion would just have to wait until the business being transacted by both men at the urinals had been completed. Even then, only after stepping into the “safe speech zone” (in front of the sinks), could they start to make up for lost time.
Women wouldn’t understand this. The ladies’ room is a social gathering place for the fairer sex. In fact, going there is often a group activity for them...
- "Men's Room Etiquette", originally published on Bill Johnson's Blog
Movie Review (Star Wars - Episode III)
I happened to be walking by a movie theater last night when I noticed something odd. Apparently, they've made another Star Wars movie. I was surprised. You would think they would do something to let people know this movie was coming out, like put out some advertising, make a few toys, something. You would also think that someone would mention this on the Internet.
So, in order to help out Mr. Lucas, who evidently can't afford to promote his movie, and to do my part to spread the word, I submit for your approval the following review. I promise not to include any spoilers. No spoilers at all. None. Ok, maybe one: Apparently, Darth Vader is Luke Skywalker's father, and Luke and Leia are brother and sister! I know, shocking, isn't it?
But seriously, on with the review. Some would say this movie has quite a bit to live down to, considering the two toy commercials, otherwise known as Episodes I and II, that preceded it...
- "Movie Review: Star Wars Episode III - Revenge of the Sith", originally published on Bill Johnson's Blog
Celebrity Parody (Donald Trump)
I can say without a doubt that I am the most successful person ever to walk the Earth. Look, I own three-quarters of Manhattan, I have several extremely profitable golf courses and resorts all over North America, I'm richer than Santa Claus, I have a hot trophy wife who is half my age, and I have five kids that I'm willing to admit to. So people ask me all the time what the secret of my success is. And I tell them - my hair.
My hair is the best-looking, manliest thing you will ever see on anyone's head. I'm serious. No other person in the world can claim to have as successful hair as I have. The reason it's so successful is that no one can take their eyes off of it. Listen, when I go into a business negotiation, the other side is usually so distracted by my hair that I can easily get them to agree to anything I want. It never fails. All I have to do is spend five minutes with someone and they start getting caught up in what I call "the Hair Trance". After that, they are literally putty in my hands...
- "The Secret of My Success", originally published on Trump the Blog on TVChicken.com
Fiction - Short Story
I stopped the car.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"I have to get out and see."
Mandy got out with me. "I don't know why you'd want to see this place."
"What happened to the store and the houses?"
"You can see what happened to them, Robby. The houses that didn't fall down were torn down. The old man who ran the store passed away, so it was torn down too. Then weeds and underbrush grew up over it all because no one was here to take care of it."
She was right. When I looked closely, I could see broken remnants of houses in amongst the weeds and knee-high grass. I sighed heavily, "It's so sad."
"It's life," she said, "It's what happens to little towns at the end of their lives when they stop growing. Businesses move out and take their jobs with them. Families move to follow those jobs or find new jobs someplace else, usually in a bigger town. With no families, there's no kids. There's no kids, so there's no life left in the town. It's just a bunch of old people who want to be left to themselves in their quiet little homes, while they wait to die. And when they die, then there is no town left."
"I know," I said, "It's just so sad."
"Is it?"
That question surprised me. Didn't she share my sentiment about this place? Didn't she feel the same way? "Don't you think so?" I asked her.
"I think it's life," she said, "Besides that, it's just a place. Any town or city or village or patch of real estate - it's just a place. What's important is what you do with your life while you're there."
"Shawneetown's not just a place," I said.
"Of course it is. And one day, probably when we are both old, maybe after we're dead, the same thing's going to happen to Shawneetown too. It's already slowly and painfully slipping away. Families have moved out. Businesses are closing one by one. The only people left are either old or drunk white trash, who probably would move out, if they had a car that worked. And one day Shawneetown is going to end up like this place, a patch of weeds. But it won't matter, because it was just a little patch of dirt where some rednecks put their houses and mobile homes. Once it's gone, the rest of the world won't be any different, and it won't care or even notice."
I couldn't believe what she had just said. How could she talk about our town like that? How dare she! The Mandy I knew loved our town. What was wrong with her?
"You know," I said, "you've changed."
"Why, Rob? Because I don't live in 1985 like you do?"
Ouch. "What do you mean..."
She turned to face me squarely, "I won't be in Shawneetown forever. I'm here because of my Dad, that's all. Eventually, I'm going to move away and never bother to think about that place again. Not because I hate the place, but because it's just a place and I will have moved on. That's what most people do - they move on. But not you. All you've talked about since you came back is how Shawneetown used to be and how it's so run-down now and how sad it is. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe you're not comparing that place to how it really was, but to how you remember it instead? Did it occur to you that maybe Shawneetown was never the little paradise you have pictured in your mind? That maybe it looks so bad to you now, because it doesn't live up to some romanticized picture you have of it?"
Then she came closer and put her hand on my face. "Robby, I'm telling you all of this because I'm your friend. And I think that maybe the reason you're obsessing so much about Shawneetown and the past is that you're not really happy with your life now. Am I right?"
She was right, but the truth in her words just made me angrier. I turned away from her and stomped back to the car, got in, and slammed the door. It was a long, quiet ride back to her house. I don't think I said two words to her the whole time.
- "The Death of Shawneetown", originally published on Bill Johnsons Fiction
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