Musical Interlude...Of Sorts

Love Tom Waits. Love this song. Love this spoken word piece. Love these videos. Both from Mule Variations.

Re: "What's He Building In There?" I am, by all accounts, a tad...eccentric. Friends who know me and this album often quote this piece whenever they drive by my apartment. They think they're being funny.

Little do they know...

Bubba Badinage

Ages ago, well, 1994 or thereabouts, I couldn't resist buying the anthology The King Is Dead--Tales of Elvis Postmortem. The idea was simple: "{e}ach entry must include Elvis Presley in some way, shape, or form, and Elvis must be dead."


The results were mixed, as one might expect, but it's still worth seeking out a copy even though it's long out-of-print (Brother Wayne got into the act with "Elviscera," wherein "{a} gaggle of Gothic teens establish an Elvis sacrifice cult hoping to make the world better through murder (summary stolen from here)." That's our Wayne.

Anyway, one of the stories was a delightful little read by Joe R. Lansdale entitled "Bubba Ho-Tep" which at the time I thought would make a great little movie. Eight years later and lo and behold! A film version did emerge with none other than the great Bruce Campbell as Elvis (and Ossie Davis as John F. Kennedy, which takes some explaining but works).

Naturally, I bought the DVD as soon as it hit the shelves. Quick review: the GREATEST movie pitting Elvis against an ancient Egyptian mummy ever!*

I also liked the soundtrack--a lot--but Amazon.com no longer carried it and the retailers who did wanted moon money for the damned thing ($176.76 for a new copy? I don't care if it is signed by the director, bite me).

Still, I wanted it. Yeah, I could play the DVD or fire up YouTube and listen to all my favorite passages, but that's so awkward (plus I don't have the fun of wandering the streets of Richmond with my mp3 player blasting "The King's Highway" at full volume while I stave off an imaginary horde of marauding mummies. Yes, I have an active imagination).

Then I thought of checking the official website. There it was, $19.95 + s&h, signed and everything, and now it is mine.

Take a listen:

Amazing what one can do by varying a simple musical theme!

Thank you, Don Coscarelli, thank you, Brian Tyler. You've made me very happy this weekend.


*This, by the way, is similar to my capsule review of From Dusk Till Dawn, "the greatest Mexican Aztec vampire movie with George Clooney and Quentin Tarentino ever made!"

Uncle Bill vs. Billy Shakespeare--Guess Who Wins

Some of you may know I have a... thing... for William S. Burroughs.

No, not like that. Behave yourselves, you rassin' frassin' mundane noodles. He was just such a... strange bird... that I find him weirdly fascinating. Forget about his books for the time being; like many people I'd rather read about Burroughs than read Burroughs (Naked Lunch made my brain hurt, then again, maybe Naked Lunch was supposed to make my brain hurt).

I mean, here's a man who, as John Waters once said, became "the first person who was famous for things you were supposed to hide": drug addiction, sodomy, pederasty, self-mutilation, wife-killing...

Oh yeah, the wife-killing thing--in 1951 Burroughs, ever the gun enthusiast, shot and killed Joan Vollmer during a drunken game of "William Tell." Accidentally. Perhaps.

Which is why I find so many pictures of Uncle Bill a bit... unnerving:

Note the flagrant disregard for Cooper's (Golden) Safety Rule #III

Anyway, a couple of weeks ago over at Kick Him, Honey writer and firearms fan Benjamin Whitmer posted this little video which I found amusing as hell:

"He's dead, man!"

I Want My Mummy!

A couple of years ago I was babbling on (and on) about those things that scared me as a kid and I thought I did a pretty thorough job dredging up all the stuff that kept me awake, wide-eyed, and sweating under the covers at night.

The Horrors of It All recently sparked a repressed memory (and bless this guy's heart, he's kindly provided scans of the interior pages here and here):

Dell Movie Classic #12-537-211, Sept/Nov 1962

Now, if this was merely a matter of musty meandering mummies I wouldn't even mention it; monsters going around doing their monster business was why I read these things in the first place. But there's this one scene...

Oh, man! Suffocating. Alone. In the dark. Took me weeks to get over that. Then I saw Universal's version of The Mummy on Shock Theater one scary Saturday afternoon--fast forward to 0:41--and I was never the same again.

Yeah, I don't think I'll be reading Buried Alive: The Terrifying History of Our Most Primal Fear any time soon.

Cactus Watch 2010--It Bloomed!

Echinopsis huascha

Cactus Watch 2010

It's getting bigger!

'While Strolling In the Park One Day..."

"...All in the merry month of May,
I was taken by surprise..."
--The Fountain in the Park by Ed Haley

So there I was, wandering through Byrd Park near The Round House (photo, not mine) when I stumble across this:

THIS FOUNTAIN
IS ERECTED BY THE WOMANS
CHRISTIAN TEMPERANCE UNION
OF RICHMOND CITY AND HENRICO COUNTY
AND THEIR FRIENDS IN MEMORY OF THE
CRUSADERS OF HILLSBORO, OHIO WHO
WENT OUT DECEMBER 19, 1873 WITH THE
WEAPONS OF PRAYER AND FAITH IN GOD
TO OVERTHROW THE LIQUOR TRAFFIC;

AND ALSO IN MEMORY OF
FRANCIS E. WILLARD
ORGANIZER OF THE WOMAN'S
CHRISTIAN TEMPERANCE UNION.

THE GRAVEST BATTLE THAT EVER WAS FOUGHT!
SHALL I TELL YOU WHERE AND WHEN?
ON THE MAPS OF THE WORLD YOU WILL FIND IT NOT;
IT WAS FOUGHT BY THE MOTHERS OF MEN.

And I'm thinking, "OMG, I've lived here for 19 years, passed through the park dozens of times, and never noticed this before? WTF?"

Here's what's amusing to me: (1) the water's been turned off and has probably been off for many years, and (2) there's a local AA group which holds a Sunday morning meeting in the Round House (many recovering alcoholics are heavy, heavy smokers and the WCTU was definitely anti-tobacco as well as anti-alcohol).

Here's more from the Historical Marker Database. and a page about the WCTU drinking fountains: "At the 1874 organizing convention of the National Woman's Christian Temperance Union, the members were urged to erect drinking fountains in their towns so that men could get a drink of water without entering saloons and staying for stronger drinks. Often the drinking fountains that were erected offered a place for horses to drink, another place for dogs, and of course, a place for humans to drink."

Cactus Notes

No need to read. These are merely some cultivation notes concerning the cacti I own I wanted to archive. For a good ol' cactus time, go here.

Cleistocactus tupizensis (pics)
Cleistocactus tupizensis is a slender columnar cactus with silvery fine spines interspersed amongst 2" long reddish or goldish spines, creating a frosted appearance. Profuse tubular, reddish orange flowers appear in spring, much to the delight of hummingbirds. Native habitat Bolivia. Requires bright light or full sun. Porous soil with adequate drainage. Water thoroughly when soil is dry to the touch. Protect from frost.

Echinocactus grusonii "Golden Barrel Cactus" (pics)
Echinocactus grusonii, or more popularly known as the "Golden Barrel", is a very beautiful and fast-growing member the "barrel cacti" family, which includes both Echinocactus and closely related Ferocacti. This plant can be a very dramatic facet of landscaping with its dense golden spines and rugged tolerance of full sun, heat, drought and even some frost. Can grow to 36" in diameter and height in 20 years. Will offset with age, producing beautiful clumps. Yellow flowers appear at the crown, usually in summer. Native habitat is Mexico, but is becoming extinct in habitat due to development of land. Prefers extra drainage in soil mix, as can be attained with the addition of extra perlite or pumice. Bright light to full sun. Can be grown in a container on a warm, bright patio or in full sun in a garden landscape. Water thoroughly when soil is dry to the touch. Can tolerate temperatures below freezing for brief periods, but is best to protect from frost to prevent scarring.

Ferocactus latispinus (pics)
Ferocactus latispinus is a barrel cactus with more of a flattened, or depressed globular shape than many of the other species of Ferocacti. The central spines are flattened and wide, giving the plant a "gnarly" look. Flowers are violet or yellow, usually appearing in late October and November. Requires a porous cactus soil with additional drainage as can be supplied by perlite and pumice. Bright light to full sun. Can be planted out in the garden for landscaping or used as a patio plant. Water thoroughly when soil is dry to the touch. Protect from frost.

Mammillaria hahniana "Old Lady Cactus" (pics)
Mammillaria hahniana, native to Mexico, forms globular stems to 6" or more in diameter. Stems are densely covered with white hair, and short white spines. Concentric rings of dark pink flowers appear amidst the white hairs, creating a dramatic contrast. Easy to grow. Porous cactus soil with adequate drainage. Bright light with ample airflow. Water thoroughly when soil is dry to the touch. Protect from frost.

Neoraimondia (Neocardenasia) herzogiana (pics)
Neocardenasia herzogiana, native to Bolivia, is a columnar cactus with shiny green stems with long, stiff cinnamon spines arising from cream-colored areoles. Neocardenasia has some of the longest spines known to exist amongst the cacti. Grows to a much-branched arborescent specimen in time. Can grow to 20' or more in native habitat of xeric Bolivian forests at altitudes of 4000'. Porous soil with adequate drainage. Bright light to full sun. Water thoroughly when soil is dry during active growing season. Protect from frost to prevent scarring.

Opuntia "Perita" = Opuntia fragilis (?, pics)
Opuntia 'Perita' forms low-growing stems densely covered with white spines. Porous cactus soil with adequate drainage. Bright light with ample airflow. Water thoroughly when soil is dry to the touch. Protect from frost.

Opuntia humifusa "Eastern Prickly Pear " (pics)

Oreocereus trollii "Old Man of the Andes" (pics)
Oreocereus trollii, native to mountains of South America, forms clumping clusters of chunky columns to 2' in height. Columnar stems are densely covered in white wool (actually white radial spines that have evolved to resemble "hairs"), that totally obscures body of plant. Some bright red spines are visible above the wool . Flowers are violet red and semi-tubular in shape. Bright light for best appearance. In cultivation, Oreocereus requires bright light to produce dense hairs, but, as a former mountain dweller, does not care for extremely high temperatures. Prefers porous cactus soil with adequate drainage. Bright light to full sun with ample airflow. Water thoroughly when soil is dry. Do not overwater during cold winter months. Preferable not to water on overcast days, humid days or cold winter days. Hardy to 20 degrees Fahrenheit, but best to protect from frost to prevent possible scarring.

Parodia herzogii (pics)
Parodia herzogii, native to Argentina, is a beautiful globular cactus with dense butterscotch spines. These spines are unusual as they are long, and very softly flexible. Beautiful large orange flowers during spring months. Grows to 8" or more in diameter and looks like a butterscotch sphere. Recently, the genus Notocactus has undergone nomenclatural changes, and as a result, all Notocactus are now included in the genus Parodia. At this time, it is believed that Notocactus and Parodias have sufficiently similar characteristics that they should be placed in one all-encompassing genus. Parodias are best wintered above 50 degrees Fahrenheit in the winter. Roots tend to die at temperatures below 50 degrees Fahrenheit, and the plant loses much time and energy attempting to reconstruct a healthy root system in the spring. Bright light with ample airflow. Water thoroughly when soil is dry to the touch during active growing season. Less water in cooler winter months. Plant in a porous cactus soil with adequate drainage. Protect from frost.

Trichocereus (Helianthocereus) grandiflorus now Echinopsis huascha (pics)
Trichocereus (Helianthocereus) grandiflorus, native to Argentina, forms clusters of stems to 15" in height with beautiful clear red flowers to 4". Over the years, many hybrids of been developed in cultivation, resulting in flowers of nearly all the colors of the rainbow. Colors now includes yellow, gold, white, pink, light pink with rose midstripes, orange, red, and purples. Some flowers are actually bi-colored. In a some cases, flower size has increased to 9" in diameter, rivalling some of the Epiphyllums or "Orchid Cactus". Through hybridization, the actual appearance of the plant as changed as well. The stems of the type species are somewhat slender, and sometimes become a bit prostrate. Many newer hybrids have thick, cylindrical bodies to 10" in diameter, with offsets forming specimens that span several feet in diameter. This can be quite an awesome sight, with large, brilliant flowers open on each stem! Porous cactus soil with adequate drainage. Bright light. Water thoroughly when soil is dry to the touch. Protect from frost.

Blumenkraft!*

*(an obscure literary reference explained here)

In going along with my philosophy of "no personal obsessions are ever discarded; they are merely put on hiatus," I've recently returned to collecting cacti after, oh, let's say, a 40-yr. lapse.

Yeah, when I was 13 I had a small--very small--cactus, well, "garden" is not the right word; it was more of an accumulation. Nothing fancy, a prickly pear (Opuntia) I dug out of a road cut and ensconced in my mother's flower garden (where it promptly overthrew and outgrew the iris, the jonquils, and my mother's tolerance), a couple of small potted plants from the local Grants department store, and some odds and ends neighbors tossed my way, most of which, despite my best efforts, managed to survive through my college years.

And then I moved away and on to other things, leaving my parents to cope with the cacti as best they could, which wasn't very well since they were used to more conventional house plants, plants which thrived on regular and frequent waterings and applications of fertilizer (cacti do not; the end result is root rot). In a couple of years all that was left was a single Christmas Cactus (which isn't a cactus at all) which was doing quite well, thank you, blooming on a regular basis and which I suppose my parents gave away when they moved into a retirement home in 2003.

So I've been cactus-less for many years.

A couple of weeks ago I was cruisin' through the garden section of Lowes and noticed a cactus display--really cool ones!--and, well, a couple of them followed me home. And then a couple more. And then a couple more. Grand total to date: fourteen. What can I say? I like plants with attitude. More later.

And, apparently, they're happy in their back porch/back yard location, at least one of them is, since he/she's bringing forth a flower (click to embiggen):



Thus begins Close-Ass Cactus Watch 2010 as the flowers of this particular species blossom for but a single day.

Now something for the biology geeks amongst you. The plant above was sold as Trichocereus grandiflorus, but cactus taxonomy is about as convoluted as anything one can imagine, which means this week's preferred scientific name is Echinopsis huascha. There are at least two dozen synonyms, thus making researching the damned things hellishly confusing, but I'm used to that, I suppose, because once upon a time I studied parasitology wherein nomenclature was equally convoluted and confusing. In fact, someone (I don't remember who) wrote a poem about it (I'm quoting from memory so it may not be totally correct):

Nematode, nematode, wilt thou be mine?
Thou shall not live in horses or cattle or swine
But feed upon roses and lilies so white
And have a new Latin name every third night.

Which reminds me of another poem I spent half an hour tracking down and will now inflict upon you:

A Chemist Looks at Parasitology
Poem, composed by A. E. R. Westman, and read at a dinner honoring the retirement of Dr. A. M. Fallis, on 31 May 1972, Toronto, Canada.

Parasitology! Parasitology!
One part of science to two of mythology,
Oodles of doodles that you will insist
Are micro-sized monsters that just can't exist,
Papers replete with long names in italics
Describing in jargon the fanciful antics
Of creatures who live on the fat of the land
In host after host without lifting a hand.
Parasitology! Queen of biology!
One part of science to two of mythology.
Don't you owe nature a humble apology?

--The Journal of Parasitology, Vol. 58, No. 4, August 1972, p. 698

Which reminds me of yet another poem that seems appropriate (Sweet Jeebus, I'm full of myself today):

Naming of Parts
by Henry Reed
To-day we have naming of parts. Yesterday,
We had daily cleaning. And to-morrow morning,
We shall have what to do after firing. But to-day,
To-day we have naming of parts. Japonica
Glistens like coral in all of the neighboring gardens,
And to-day we have naming of parts.

This is the lower sling swivel. And this
Is the upper sling swivel, whose use you will see,
When you are given your slings. And this is the piling swivel,
Which in your case you have not got. The branches
Hold in the gardens their silent, eloquent gestures,
Which in our case we have not got.

This is the safety-catch, which is always released
With an easy flick of the thumb. And please do not let me
See anyone using his finger. You can do it quite easy
If you have any strength in your thumb. The blossoms
Are fragile and motionless, never letting anyone see
Any of them using their finger.

And this you can see is the bolt. The purpose of this
Is to open the breech, as you see. We can slide it
Rapidly backwards and forwards: we call this
Easing the spring. And rapidly backwards and forwards
The early bees are assaulting and fumbling the flowers:
They call it easing the Spring.

They call it easing the Spring: it is perfectly easy
If you have any strength in your thumb: like the bolt,
And the breech, and the cocking-piece, and the point of balance,
Which in our case we have not got; and the almond-blossom
Silent in all of the gardens and the bees going backwards and forwards,
For to-day we have naming of parts.

Okay, we're done here. Go out and play.

**for the record, as of this writing Lowes is a distributor for Altman Plants, specifically, The Cactus Collection.

Friday Night Randomness

I'm wired on caffeine, thrilled that it's Friday, thinking about World Goth Day, reminiscing about bacon, dreading going to the DMV tomorrow morning to renew my driver's license, wondering what the hell the woman who cut my hair this afternoon was thinking, debating whether I'm too old to access Chatroulette, and, in general, just free-associating my ass off.

It's a random kind of night.

Here's the latest imaginary exploitation novel that Brother Wayne should write some day (others here):


My WTF? moment a few years ago:


Muffler Men FTW! (North Side, Richmond, VA):


A Sunday afternoon Wal*Mart WTF?:


Still trying to figure out how an intelligent gorilla is going to take over the world with Treasure Island, Robinson Crusoe, and Moby Dick. Maybe it's a post-modern thing:


Man, I miss 4th St. Cafe:


One more thing and then I'm done. Please resume your usual Friday night activities.

(from Watson Hates Holmes by Warren Ellis)

I Guess the Soviet Union Really IS Dead!

In my last post I touched on World Goth Day, digital cameras, and (very briefly) Zombie Walks (more here). Well, the Serendipity Gods smiled upon me this evening and, courtesy of Boing Boing, directed me to a Moscow Zombie Walk (I don't read Russian, much less Cyrillic; feel free to translate for me).

Achtung! Numerous Future Ex-Wives Alert!

Git Yer Goth On!

So, apparently Saturday, May 22 is World Goth Day.

Aren't these people dead yet?

Okay, yeah, that was a cheap shot. Sorry. Anyway, should you be interested there are all sorts of goings on around the country and around the world, even in Richmond, VA:

Absent from the poster is the planned costumed stroll from the cookout site to Maymont Park's Victorian Tea, which should be... interesting... given the somewhat stodgy nature of both the Foundation and those locals with adjacent homes (note that though the park was donated to "the people of Richmond," these particular residents would prefer it to become a gated community and, in fact, have succeeded in convincing the city to severely curtail traffic on the weekends).

Not being particularly Gothic myself (despite my propensity for black clothing), what this means for me is a PHOTO OP! along the lines of the (now) annual Richmond Zombie Walk (last year, Part 1, Part 2)...

...and time to retire my trusty Olympus D-380 digital camera. Sigh. Poor thing, it still works and works well for the purposes it was intended, but it is definitely showing its age--2 megapixels, no zoom, tiny little LCD, a memory card that is no longer manufactured--yeah, it's time to give it a well-deserved rest and designate it as my back-up camera. The new camera is a Panasonic Lumix DHC-FH22:

Bet you didn't know Panasonic made a digital camera, huh? Well, neither did I until I started an all-out Internet search for a suitable replacement. After reading a gazillion reviews and dropping a number of big-name manufacturers from consideration for reasons ranging from poor image quality (Nikon, to my surprise) to insufferably complex onboard software (several), I happened upon the underappreciated Lumix line... and bought one. So far, I like it bunches; I'll put it to a real test come Saturday.

Maybe I'll even dress up and head on over to the Goth Prom!

Naah.

After My Last Post...

...this seemed appropriate.

Grossest. Sarah Post. EVER!

I'm not kidding; this gets foul in a couple of paragraphs, so if you possess, uh, delicate sensibilities, you might want to switch over to Cute Overload right... about... now.

I don't know who feeds off of whom--Sarah claims since I have no life I live one vicariously through others, setting them up to do things for my own, personal amusement, which is probably true, more or less; on the other hand, I'm not entirely convinced Sarah doesn't revel in providing me voyeur fodder.

The latest example occurred Thursday night while I was walking through Carytown. There I was, minding my own business, walking briskly through Trendy Retail Hell, when I feel the tingly sensation of an incoming text message.

Sarah, who says,

"Who wants to hear the grossest thing ever?"

"Shoot," I thought, "I know (online friend) evilegg, the Queen of Gross (more on her later). How bad could it be?" So I responded with a (virtual) hearty "I do! I do!".

Pause.

Then, "Last night I puked up one guy's cum on another guy's cock. Sloppiest seconds ever."

Followed by, "Also hard to explain: 'I have no idea what I ate earlier.'"

Oh, dear Jeebus.

"I was really tired by the end of the night, but I let it slip through my fingers last week, so I had to keep my eye on the prize. Gold medal in nude losing."

Yeah. I predict a nice, long, lucrative career for Sarah in Japanese porn (DON'T CLICK! RULE 34/"Once-you've-seen-it-you-can't-unsee-it" WARNING!).

Well, I had to share and so I notified the Mistress of Foulness, the Dame of Depravity, the Trolling Trollop herself, LJ friend evilegg, that "...my friend Sarah has just beaten your Grossness Score. Let me know if you want details and whether I should post 'em publicly."

Of course she did. And her reply?

"That's smokin'. She's on the most epic self destruction tour of all time."

So I texted this to Sarah, to which she replied, "No. What's smokin' is that I actually do call them tours. I'm a rock star of debauchery."

See? I don't need a life!

This One's For Wayne

Some time ago I posted about the stuff that scared me as a child which prompted Brother Wayne to write about Why Clowns Scare Me (read it; it's good). Now, far be it from me to denigrate someone else's childhood trauma(s), but in cruising Boing Boing this evening I ran across this: Can't sleep. Pork and beans boy will eat me.

Great. New bits of nightmare fodder, as if I needed more. Wayne, no disrespect intended, but...

Sarah's At It Again!

Two a. m. and there I was, snug in my bed, sound asleep, dreaming about--well, just never you mind what I was dreaming about--when the message alert on my cell phone goes off. "What the fu... uh, hell?" thinks I. "Who texts me at TWO IN THE 'EFFIN' MORNING?

Oh, yeah. Sarah. Who has a wild and wooly life so I don't have to.

"So, at one point last night i walked into a living room full of people and my underwear fell out of the leg of my pants."

WTF? Admittedly, I wasn't full awake as I read this, but still, I was having a very difficult time trying to figure out how this was at all possible. I mean, I know a little about topology, about Mobius strips and Klein bottles, I kinda sorta understand how a woman can remove her brassiere in front of a gentleman caller without removing her sweatshirt (courtesy of an enforced viewing--don't ask-- of Flashdance), but for the life of me I couldn't figure out this one.

Still, I had certain textual obligations and so dutifully replied, (mustn't laugh...mustn't laugh...good friends are supportive... aw, f*** it) How the HELL did you manage THAT?

Reply?

"I couldn't find them. So i didn't put them on. Then i found them. Luckily everyone was on acid so there were bigger things going on."

Really, I should write a book.

The Internet Can Be A Spooky Place

Being a typical middle-aged American male (okay, I know that's a debatable statement; shut up) I'm particularly bad at remembering things like birthdays and anniversaries, which is why the Internet is such a wonderful thing--social networking sites do the remembering for me and that includes my long, neglected LiveJournal account.

LiveJournal, unlike MySpace, by the way, is still a pretty active place despite the mass migration to Facebook. I no longer post there myself, but I still check out what other people post since LJers with FB accounts tend to go into much more detail on their LiveJournals (translation: that's where the hot gossip occurs) while many LJers who have interesting things to say have chosen not to join Facebook.

So, anyway, the other day I got an LJ notification that grayseal123's birthday is coming up May 5th and I had to think for a minute, who the hell is grayseal123? Then it hit me--hard.

OMG, that's my college buddy Glenn! I can't believe I forgot about him; I get this notification every year and still I forgot.

See, Glenn died in 2007 just before his birthday.

Conroe man, 51, killed in motorcycle accident
Copyright 2007 Houston Chronicle
April 27, 2007, 4:57PM

WILLIS — A 51-year-old Conroe man was killed when his motorcycle struck a vehicle coming out of a private driveway, authorities said.
The accident happened shortly before 10 p.m. Thursday on FM 2432 about two miles east of Willis, said Texas Department of Public Safety officials.
Glenn Murawski was headed east on FM 2432 when his 2002 Honda motorcycle hit a 1993 Ford Ranger driven by Clifford Bailey, Jr., of Willis.
Murawski was transported to Conroe Regional Medical Center, where he was pronounced dead about an hour later, DPS officials said.

And since no one has closed or deleted his account, since I'm the only one who knows it exists, I will continue to receive a birthday notification for as long as LiveJournal's servers are operational.

That's not a bad thing, but it is kind of spooky. I suppose as the years go by more and more of us will experience Internet ghosts.

Alone And Unsupervised On A Saturday Night...

...with ready access to caffeine, the Intarwebs, and paint.net. Bad combination. In this case, several lines of thought intersected, all of them, sadly, involving poor, long-suffering acquaintance, Wayne, writer, poet, video memoirist, dedicated fan of Bobby the Mitch and Abe Vigoda, one of two men with whom I share a sense of humor.

The results:

In an alternate universe this would be my first collection of short stories. Inside joke for those not in the know: Nightmare Alley is a dark, dark piece of fiction by William Lindsay Gresham. The first time I saw this photo of Wayne I thought, "Gee, he looks like the perverted ride operator at some sleazy-ass traveling carnival," and made the obvious (to me) connection.

Then, while looking for prime examples of Nazi bondage and torture art in vintage men's adventure magazines (aka "Sweats")--please don't ask why--I stumbled across a couple of images that seemed oh-so-appropriate and turned them into imaginary book covers. Again, for those not in on the joke, Brother Wayne makes frequent reference to Bubbly Creek in his blog, FRANKENSTEIN1959.



And, yes, I realize friends don't let friends use Comic Sans, but, for me, it just seems to work.

Take-home message? I'm not to be trusted with a computer.