"...have you ever seen a picture of Jesus laughing? Do you think he had a beautiful smile?" -- Kate Bush, 'Why Should I Love You?'
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
In Case Your Faith Is Waning...
"...have you ever seen a picture of Jesus laughing? Do you think he had a beautiful smile?" -- Kate Bush, 'Why Should I Love You?'
Saturday, May 21, 2011
What If They're Right? (after reading the blog click this title for a treat)
According to nutballs today, Saturday, May 21, 2011 is Rapture Day. Seriously, would Jesus even pick a Saturday to come back? Who’d have time to pay attention between errands? Y’know, to me the worst thing about the Rapture would be being left behind with a bunch of a-holes, kind of like life now.
Dammit, it's already happened.
Since I'm a bit of a heathen there's no reason I shouldn't drop a couple quick Top Ten lists before I go out to pursue all the loose women suddenly without Republican backing.
TOP TEN THINGS I WISH ALL PEOPLE WOULD DO, but especially those black folks to whom this applies because, yes, you do make us look bad:
1) Stop letting your loud kids stay out till 1 in the morning.
2) Wear your clothing as though you're more mature than the average 3 year old.
3) If you're not at the beach, wear a freaking shirt.
4) There is a vast range of cute, adorable pets to choose from. A pit bull isn't one of them.
5) Read. It's not the white man's tonic. 'Sexy Ho 7' will never count.
6) If you're going to keep it real, be real. There's a boy I know who loves playing piano but all he shows off is his hood grimace.
7) While you're keeping your loud kids inside when evening falls, how about keeping yourself in too? Nobody really wants to hear all that when they're trying to relax.
8) Stop walking in packs all the time. Hell, you damn well scare me.
9) Stop holding Jennifer Hudson out as some new Aretha. (White folks, I'll get with you in a minute about Jennifer Aniston.)
10) Stop putting less thought and planning into having children than you did trying to get laid in the first place.
TOP TEN THINGS WHITE FOLKS HAD BETTER LOOK INTO before it's too late and Jennifer Aniston winds up with an Oscar nomination:
1) Flirt with a rainbow of fruit flavors. Automatic stress reliever.
2) Leave Jennifer Aniston alone. She'll start thinking there's truth to her--for some vague reason--being some kind of celebrity.
3) The "Master of the Universe" mentality went out with Dolph Lundgren's career. In other words, nobody's impressed and nor do they give a fuck that you have executive hair.
4) Realize that when you roll up banging rap you're getting laughed at for a good quarter mile.
5) If you're gonna fly the Confederate flag at least read up on the Civil War and not rely on a vague memory of an episode of the 'Dukes of Hazzard'.
6) The words "conservative” and “Christian” aren’t imminent domain.
7) Drunken white girls aren’t a benefit to anybody.
8) In 100% of cases lip injections make you look flat out stupid.
9) Leave the pick up trucks alone. You’re not hauling anything and the closest you’ll get to a mountain stream is that one pothole that always fills up when it rains.
10) Reading a book by a black author won’t mark you in any way (even Tyler Perry movies are federally approved).
Thanks for your indulgence, and on June 15th siphon gas from an abandoned vehicle while your grimy mate keeps marauders at bay with a shotgun and head to a flaming internet cafe near you to purchase Minister Faust's 'The Alchemists of Kush' eBook at Amazon.com. If he reaches the Kindle top 100 that day he's putting up $500 of his own moolah toward books for South Sudan. Literacy, power--is there a difference?
Dammit, it's already happened.
Since I'm a bit of a heathen there's no reason I shouldn't drop a couple quick Top Ten lists before I go out to pursue all the loose women suddenly without Republican backing.
TOP TEN THINGS I WISH ALL PEOPLE WOULD DO, but especially those black folks to whom this applies because, yes, you do make us look bad:
1) Stop letting your loud kids stay out till 1 in the morning.
2) Wear your clothing as though you're more mature than the average 3 year old.
3) If you're not at the beach, wear a freaking shirt.
4) There is a vast range of cute, adorable pets to choose from. A pit bull isn't one of them.
5) Read. It's not the white man's tonic. 'Sexy Ho 7' will never count.
6) If you're going to keep it real, be real. There's a boy I know who loves playing piano but all he shows off is his hood grimace.
7) While you're keeping your loud kids inside when evening falls, how about keeping yourself in too? Nobody really wants to hear all that when they're trying to relax.
8) Stop walking in packs all the time. Hell, you damn well scare me.
9) Stop holding Jennifer Hudson out as some new Aretha. (White folks, I'll get with you in a minute about Jennifer Aniston.)
10) Stop putting less thought and planning into having children than you did trying to get laid in the first place.
TOP TEN THINGS WHITE FOLKS HAD BETTER LOOK INTO before it's too late and Jennifer Aniston winds up with an Oscar nomination:
1) Flirt with a rainbow of fruit flavors. Automatic stress reliever.
2) Leave Jennifer Aniston alone. She'll start thinking there's truth to her--for some vague reason--being some kind of celebrity.
3) The "Master of the Universe" mentality went out with Dolph Lundgren's career. In other words, nobody's impressed and nor do they give a fuck that you have executive hair.
4) Realize that when you roll up banging rap you're getting laughed at for a good quarter mile.
5) If you're gonna fly the Confederate flag at least read up on the Civil War and not rely on a vague memory of an episode of the 'Dukes of Hazzard'.
6) The words "conservative” and “Christian” aren’t imminent domain.
7) Drunken white girls aren’t a benefit to anybody.
8) In 100% of cases lip injections make you look flat out stupid.
9) Leave the pick up trucks alone. You’re not hauling anything and the closest you’ll get to a mountain stream is that one pothole that always fills up when it rains.
10) Reading a book by a black author won’t mark you in any way (even Tyler Perry movies are federally approved).
Thanks for your indulgence, and on June 15th siphon gas from an abandoned vehicle while your grimy mate keeps marauders at bay with a shotgun and head to a flaming internet cafe near you to purchase Minister Faust's 'The Alchemists of Kush' eBook at Amazon.com. If he reaches the Kindle top 100 that day he's putting up $500 of his own moolah toward books for South Sudan. Literacy, power--is there a difference?
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Minister Faust, Straight Outta Edmonton
As promised, I'm just gonna sit back, shut up, and let the trailer speak for itself. 18 levels of cool for your mind.
This genius writing under the name Minister Faust is a hell of a writer. 'Nuff said.
This genius writing under the name Minister Faust is a hell of a writer. 'Nuff said.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
The Reasons
To the writers of the world: faced with a choice would you rather be an author, meaning someone who's published at whatever degree of success, or a writer, meaning someone whose words are respected no matter where they take you? No mixing or muddling allowed, you have to pick one or the other. Age-old conundrum that leads us to the question of why we write. As there are a million intertwined reasons that would compel a person to pick up a pen and make thoughts real, I've prepared the Cliffs Notes version below. Feel free to add on.
Why We Write:
To show what we can do.
Lonliness.
Seething outrage.
Sublimated seething.
Thought sensitivity would get us laid by a kinder class of people.
Job sucks.
Girlfriend won't suck. Here's a poem for you, Rachel!
Precious moments without husband and kids.
How hard can it be?
Might get optioned as a film.
The inner light.
Voices in head demand satisfaction.
Already too many lawyers in the world, if you ask our opinion.
Encouraged by mom.
Ignored by dad.
Direct communication with God.
After imagining groupies, fun to imagine sex with groupies.
The magnificence of truth.
Secret telepaths.
Confused by the world and dazed that everyone else isn't.
Money. Buckets of it.
Hope to communicate with the ephemeral essential.
Power of Christ compels us.
Commendable naivety.
Mental work out.
Profound confusion.
It's so much freaking fun.
Voices carry.
Why We Write:
To show what we can do.
Lonliness.
Seething outrage.
Sublimated seething.
Thought sensitivity would get us laid by a kinder class of people.
Job sucks.
Girlfriend won't suck. Here's a poem for you, Rachel!
Precious moments without husband and kids.
How hard can it be?
Might get optioned as a film.
The inner light.
Voices in head demand satisfaction.
Already too many lawyers in the world, if you ask our opinion.
Encouraged by mom.
Ignored by dad.
Direct communication with God.
After imagining groupies, fun to imagine sex with groupies.
The magnificence of truth.
Secret telepaths.
Confused by the world and dazed that everyone else isn't.
Money. Buckets of it.
Hope to communicate with the ephemeral essential.
Power of Christ compels us.
Commendable naivety.
Mental work out.
Profound confusion.
It's so much freaking fun.
Voices carry.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
The Joys of Freedom
Friday was a little rough. Here's a Happy Saturday post:
Two words for y’all and I’m not going to whisper so you’d better not stand too close.
SOFIA VERGARA.
You may say you sexist, juvenile, horny man and I say I don’t care. Dudes, it’s the weekend. In that finest tradition set by the Haves to the Have Nots we get to get a little buck-wild. And to me nothing says buck-wild quite like unrepentant monkey sex.
Today is the day your lust has made.
This ain’t spiritual like my jones for Pam Grier (always and forever) or Rosario Dawson (each moment with you) or the Wife (yes, the spider is dead). Matter of fact, let me do this:
Da Boom Da Bam The Everlasting Pow
We all have somebody we just want to mash our faces into till we come out the other side. No shame at all. Simply means we’re alive and well. Yes we’re supposed to pretend that sex outside marriage is sinful, that every sperm is sacred (to all my self-gratifying brothers out there shouting “Lo, I am the Destroyer of Worlds!”—chill), and that seeing a smart, bright, successful human being as a sex object brings the kind of shame that can only be imparted by an old lady, but let’s be real. Ladies, look here:
Don’t tell me you didn’t just now open that man’s shirt. Normally we’re supposed to act like we don’t get turned on, not in everyday life. But stars, that’s fair lust since we’ll never attain them. Let me tell you something. I picture more women naked in the course of a day, even women I’ve never seen, than is probably fair or prudent. Sometimes not even entirely naked (takes too much work). I also wonder how cars work, what it looks like in the sewer, and whether God is aware of me. It’s called curiosity, people! Hell, if Sofia or Rosario ever wrote about how my ass cheeks make them think of chocolate mousse, I’d be a changed man. Might start exercising and eating right.
Granted this presupposes that in the mind you can be as sexually adept as you wanna be. In real life your butt cheeks lock up, exertion sweat immediately blinds you in one eye and the longer you try to hold out you come to realize just why Kegel exercises are so important.
But look up there at Sofia and Taye again. This ain't about real life. This is where you exercise the most fantastic muscle you've got, the brain. So fantasize your drawers off. See your neighbor in a whole new way. Regard your boss with what on Monday will appear to be respect and admiration. Let that rampant, hairy sexuality lock you in a room and smile at you with that one tooth showing and the Deliverance banjo playing in the background…then surprise rush it and make it shiver for comfort later. It’s the weekend, dammit, and if we can’t lust after Sofia Vergara or Taye Diggs or our kid's kindergarten teacher we are seriously buggered. Mondays come around really quickly.
Yo! I am the destroyer of worlds.
Two words for y’all and I’m not going to whisper so you’d better not stand too close.
SOFIA VERGARA.
You may say you sexist, juvenile, horny man and I say I don’t care. Dudes, it’s the weekend. In that finest tradition set by the Haves to the Have Nots we get to get a little buck-wild. And to me nothing says buck-wild quite like unrepentant monkey sex.
Today is the day your lust has made.
This ain’t spiritual like my jones for Pam Grier (always and forever) or Rosario Dawson (each moment with you) or the Wife (yes, the spider is dead). Matter of fact, let me do this:
Da Boom Da Bam The Everlasting Pow
We all have somebody we just want to mash our faces into till we come out the other side. No shame at all. Simply means we’re alive and well. Yes we’re supposed to pretend that sex outside marriage is sinful, that every sperm is sacred (to all my self-gratifying brothers out there shouting “Lo, I am the Destroyer of Worlds!”—chill), and that seeing a smart, bright, successful human being as a sex object brings the kind of shame that can only be imparted by an old lady, but let’s be real. Ladies, look here:
Don’t tell me you didn’t just now open that man’s shirt. Normally we’re supposed to act like we don’t get turned on, not in everyday life. But stars, that’s fair lust since we’ll never attain them. Let me tell you something. I picture more women naked in the course of a day, even women I’ve never seen, than is probably fair or prudent. Sometimes not even entirely naked (takes too much work). I also wonder how cars work, what it looks like in the sewer, and whether God is aware of me. It’s called curiosity, people! Hell, if Sofia or Rosario ever wrote about how my ass cheeks make them think of chocolate mousse, I’d be a changed man. Might start exercising and eating right.
Granted this presupposes that in the mind you can be as sexually adept as you wanna be. In real life your butt cheeks lock up, exertion sweat immediately blinds you in one eye and the longer you try to hold out you come to realize just why Kegel exercises are so important.
But look up there at Sofia and Taye again. This ain't about real life. This is where you exercise the most fantastic muscle you've got, the brain. So fantasize your drawers off. See your neighbor in a whole new way. Regard your boss with what on Monday will appear to be respect and admiration. Let that rampant, hairy sexuality lock you in a room and smile at you with that one tooth showing and the Deliverance banjo playing in the background…then surprise rush it and make it shiver for comfort later. It’s the weekend, dammit, and if we can’t lust after Sofia Vergara or Taye Diggs or our kid's kindergarten teacher we are seriously buggered. Mondays come around really quickly.
Yo! I am the destroyer of worlds.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Crazy 8's
I was in a waiting room this morning watching a woman being interviewed regarding the Botox injections she administers to her 8 year old daughter to keep the child competitive in kiddy pageants. She’s a “medical professional” and gives the shots herself. When compelled under the reflective quad of an interviewer, a camera crew, having her beautiful daughter sitting beside her, and the certain knowledge that damning idiocy on this level would be seen by millions, this mom didn’t drop to her knees clutching her head under the crushing weight of realization. She didn’t beg any gods for forgiveness. Didn’t immediately bundle her child up and rush her to someone sane. Her entire justification: It’s tough in the pageant world. My boss has an expression: “The gene pool could use a little chlorine.”
Could this woman be an excellent parent otherwise? No. The child seemed happy and engaging, but that’s more an indicator of life in the pageant world where not being happy and engaging is not an option. Women who never got over playing with baby dolls should not be allowed to have children. The mom said lots of kiddy porn pageant parents Botox their kids. I added the kiddy porn part because it was necessary. Lots of kids are happy and engaging despite idiot parents. That doesn’t mean those parents get the medal “Good Parent” by default. What makes a good parent? Not giving your kid Botox is likely high on the list.
Of course the entire interview was engineered to responsibly outrage us. The interviewer asked the pat questions and adopted the proper expressions to guide viewers. At no point did the interviewer—a mother herself, she informed postscript—frown deeply into the mom’s face and say “Are you fucking crazy?” She did not cut the interview short to prevent this bovine-minded woman from receiving a crazy person’s inevitable 15 minutes of fame (there’s always the possibility for mom to be picked up by a reality show). So I’m outraged twofold. Whenever there’s a geek show you have to be mad at the barker. Somebody sought this woman out.
Maybe rehumanizing is the wrong word. Help me here, what do we call it? Where do we go to become better than ourselves?
Oh, and the little girl also had the hot wax on the “bikini” area. I didn’t know little girls even had bikini areas. Somebody’s out there looking, though.
Kiddy porn.
Could this woman be an excellent parent otherwise? No. The child seemed happy and engaging, but that’s more an indicator of life in the pageant world where not being happy and engaging is not an option. Women who never got over playing with baby dolls should not be allowed to have children. The mom said lots of kiddy porn pageant parents Botox their kids. I added the kiddy porn part because it was necessary. Lots of kids are happy and engaging despite idiot parents. That doesn’t mean those parents get the medal “Good Parent” by default. What makes a good parent? Not giving your kid Botox is likely high on the list.
Of course the entire interview was engineered to responsibly outrage us. The interviewer asked the pat questions and adopted the proper expressions to guide viewers. At no point did the interviewer—a mother herself, she informed postscript—frown deeply into the mom’s face and say “Are you fucking crazy?” She did not cut the interview short to prevent this bovine-minded woman from receiving a crazy person’s inevitable 15 minutes of fame (there’s always the possibility for mom to be picked up by a reality show). So I’m outraged twofold. Whenever there’s a geek show you have to be mad at the barker. Somebody sought this woman out.
Maybe rehumanizing is the wrong word. Help me here, what do we call it? Where do we go to become better than ourselves?
Oh, and the little girl also had the hot wax on the “bikini” area. I didn’t know little girls even had bikini areas. Somebody’s out there looking, though.
Kiddy porn.
Keeping It Real
Keeping It Real
By the Lord’s salty balls, here’s what’s bugging me, and I swear if anybody gets indignant I will dick slap them in front of their children. It’s that serious. I walked to the bookstore yesterday filled with hope and love and charity, armed with a list of authors I was ready to be intrigued by. Some established, some up and coming. They all happened to be “folks of color.”
What I found, however—and this is what makes it sometimes the most depressing thing in the United States of America to find out is you’re black—was ‘Justify My Thug’, ‘Thug In Me’, ‘Street Chic’, ‘Hood Rats’, and ‘Girls From Da Hood: 6’. Six. I have not made any of these titles up. There was a table full of even more. Multiple copies of everything. I’m not even gonna bother with authors’ names. Let’s say Boo Boo Dee Fool and Bugs Bunny.
I was looking for Tananarive Due http://www.tananarivedue.com/
Nnedi Okorafor http://www.nnedi.com/
Carleen Brice http://www.carleenbrice.com/
Minister Faust http://ministerfaust.blogspot.com/
Bernice McFadden http://www.bernicemcfadden.com/
Percy Everett http://www.blueflowerarts.com/percival-everett
Tayari Jones http://www.tayarijones.com/
and Ru Freeman http://rufreeman.com
I’ve got Ru’s book; just wanted to see if they had any more in stock. Got works by Minister Faust too; he’s got a new book coming out in June (more on that later). Percy Everett is so good he should get to sleep with supermodels and not have to worry about the ‘Tiger Woods’ imperative. Ms. Due, Okorafor, Brice, Jones and McFadden have piqued the beejeezus out of my curiosity. A nice representation gender and genre-wise. Speculative fiction, literary, international, highbrow and comedic mashed in the mix.
Not one of these authors’ works was in that entire book store. I know all about supply and demand and I know all about giving the people what they want and I know humanity is generally about as stupid as cheese—but, dammit, come on! Yes, I know that Barnes & Noble is full of chick lit and chick lit sucks the balls of an angry Christ; I know there are a million absolutely terrible sci-fi/fantasy series written by folks completely damning the cause of geekdom; I know that crap is king all the way around for folks of all colors. But, dammit, come on! Not one book.
Not a single, flippin’, wrinkled, pissed on, neglected copy. Nowhere. Nada.
Girls From Da Hood: 6.
If all things were equal I wouldn’t have a problem, but we’re not going to insult ourselves with that pretense. Black folks can’t afford that. Period, end of discussion. We’re just going to calmly and rationally wonder why it’s disgustingly easy to walk into a major bookseller and find ‘Justify My Thug’ front and center, but books that might actually stay with you longer than a fart? No fucking way.
I’m putting this on Barnes & Noble’s head, and I’m putting this on book publishers’ heads, and I’m putting this on sheisty writers everywhere: Why?
And don’t anybody dare say nobody would buy a worthwhile author of color’s book. I’m in bookstores all the time as a writer and a reader. When I heard Carlos Ruiz Zafon
http://www.carlosruizzafon.co.uk/ had a follow up to ‘The Shadow of the Wind’ I nearly peed myself. I see black folks in book stores all the time. The young stupid girls? Yeah, they’re walking out with ‘Hood Rats’ and ‘Hood Rats’ alone. That’s what makes them stupid, that single minded pursuit of rancid cheese. But folks with a sense of adventure? They’re walking out with a lot more. Not Due, Brice, McFadden, Okorafor, Faust, Jones, Everett or Freeman. No, that will happen, as a poet might say, when a witch’s teat warms up. Maybe Christopher Moore http://www.chrismoore.com/
, Stephen King http://www.stephenking.com/index.html
, James Morrow http://www.sff.net/people/jim.morrow/
, Terry Pratchett http://www.terrypratchettbooks.com/
, Margaret Atwood http://www.margaretatwood.ca/
or Anais Nin http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=anais+nin
, the freaky bastards, but not one of those others.
I see Mexicans, Koreans, Muslims, Gays, geeks, Republicans, Democrats, hell, even Progressives in bookstores. I see blacks, whites, lesbians, psychotics, and those creepy dudes who stand in the history section and mutter prophecies at book spines. I see women, men, children and whatever the hell teenagers are. None of these people can purchase a book that is not there. None of these people will order a book they don’t know exists. Hold the pickles, hold the lettuce, special orders do upset us.
Click any link in this blog, even ‘Hood Rat’ http://www.amazon.com/Hood-Triple-Crown-Publications-Presents/dp/097995178X
. Buy at least one, doesn’t matter by whom. Even fucking ‘Hood Rat’. Hell, click ‘Neon Lights’ http://www.amazon.com/Neon-Lights-ebook/dp/B004UH0ORI/ref=sr_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1305169025&sr=1-5
if you want. But know this: if your diet’s nothing but Burger King you will get slovenly, you will get greasy, you will die.
Period.
By the Lord’s salty balls, here’s what’s bugging me, and I swear if anybody gets indignant I will dick slap them in front of their children. It’s that serious. I walked to the bookstore yesterday filled with hope and love and charity, armed with a list of authors I was ready to be intrigued by. Some established, some up and coming. They all happened to be “folks of color.”
What I found, however—and this is what makes it sometimes the most depressing thing in the United States of America to find out is you’re black—was ‘Justify My Thug’, ‘Thug In Me’, ‘Street Chic’, ‘Hood Rats’, and ‘Girls From Da Hood: 6’. Six. I have not made any of these titles up. There was a table full of even more. Multiple copies of everything. I’m not even gonna bother with authors’ names. Let’s say Boo Boo Dee Fool and Bugs Bunny.
I was looking for Tananarive Due http://www.tananarivedue.com/
Nnedi Okorafor http://www.nnedi.com/
Carleen Brice http://www.carleenbrice.com/
Minister Faust http://ministerfaust.blogspot.com/
Bernice McFadden http://www.bernicemcfadden.com/
Percy Everett http://www.blueflowerarts.com/percival-everett
Tayari Jones http://www.tayarijones.com/
and Ru Freeman http://rufreeman.com
I’ve got Ru’s book; just wanted to see if they had any more in stock. Got works by Minister Faust too; he’s got a new book coming out in June (more on that later). Percy Everett is so good he should get to sleep with supermodels and not have to worry about the ‘Tiger Woods’ imperative. Ms. Due, Okorafor, Brice, Jones and McFadden have piqued the beejeezus out of my curiosity. A nice representation gender and genre-wise. Speculative fiction, literary, international, highbrow and comedic mashed in the mix.
Not one of these authors’ works was in that entire book store. I know all about supply and demand and I know all about giving the people what they want and I know humanity is generally about as stupid as cheese—but, dammit, come on! Yes, I know that Barnes & Noble is full of chick lit and chick lit sucks the balls of an angry Christ; I know there are a million absolutely terrible sci-fi/fantasy series written by folks completely damning the cause of geekdom; I know that crap is king all the way around for folks of all colors. But, dammit, come on! Not one book.
Not a single, flippin’, wrinkled, pissed on, neglected copy. Nowhere. Nada.
Girls From Da Hood: 6.
If all things were equal I wouldn’t have a problem, but we’re not going to insult ourselves with that pretense. Black folks can’t afford that. Period, end of discussion. We’re just going to calmly and rationally wonder why it’s disgustingly easy to walk into a major bookseller and find ‘Justify My Thug’ front and center, but books that might actually stay with you longer than a fart? No fucking way.
I’m putting this on Barnes & Noble’s head, and I’m putting this on book publishers’ heads, and I’m putting this on sheisty writers everywhere: Why?
And don’t anybody dare say nobody would buy a worthwhile author of color’s book. I’m in bookstores all the time as a writer and a reader. When I heard Carlos Ruiz Zafon
http://www.carlosruizzafon.co.uk/ had a follow up to ‘The Shadow of the Wind’ I nearly peed myself. I see black folks in book stores all the time. The young stupid girls? Yeah, they’re walking out with ‘Hood Rats’ and ‘Hood Rats’ alone. That’s what makes them stupid, that single minded pursuit of rancid cheese. But folks with a sense of adventure? They’re walking out with a lot more. Not Due, Brice, McFadden, Okorafor, Faust, Jones, Everett or Freeman. No, that will happen, as a poet might say, when a witch’s teat warms up. Maybe Christopher Moore http://www.chrismoore.com/
, Stephen King http://www.stephenking.com/index.html
, James Morrow http://www.sff.net/people/jim.morrow/
, Terry Pratchett http://www.terrypratchettbooks.com/
, Margaret Atwood http://www.margaretatwood.ca/
or Anais Nin http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=anais+nin
, the freaky bastards, but not one of those others.
I see Mexicans, Koreans, Muslims, Gays, geeks, Republicans, Democrats, hell, even Progressives in bookstores. I see blacks, whites, lesbians, psychotics, and those creepy dudes who stand in the history section and mutter prophecies at book spines. I see women, men, children and whatever the hell teenagers are. None of these people can purchase a book that is not there. None of these people will order a book they don’t know exists. Hold the pickles, hold the lettuce, special orders do upset us.
Click any link in this blog, even ‘Hood Rat’ http://www.amazon.com/Hood-Triple-Crown-Publications-Presents/dp/097995178X
. Buy at least one, doesn’t matter by whom. Even fucking ‘Hood Rat’. Hell, click ‘Neon Lights’ http://www.amazon.com/Neon-Lights-ebook/dp/B004UH0ORI/ref=sr_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1305169025&sr=1-5
if you want. But know this: if your diet’s nothing but Burger King you will get slovenly, you will get greasy, you will die.
Period.
Site Glitches
Looks like Blogspot had a few gremlins last night. 2 posts plus comments got deleted ("Keeping It Real" and "Crazy 8's"). I'll repost and copy the comments.
--a thousand apologies to all 3 people reading this.
--a thousand apologies to all 3 people reading this.
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