Today, I offer you what I consider to be a tasty treat. However, first, here are some links, and feel free to watch this video of Stephen Colbert doing his thing with Biz Stone, Co-Founder of Twitter. Had trouble posting it, so you’ll have to just click the link.
- Santana has made a heartfelt, and somewhat desperate plea to our new President. I can’t think of a better request in these robust economic times, when people are so busy with work and excess that they have nothing better to do. Thank you, Santana.
- I’m a statistic! I’m so proud of myself for involuntarily participating in an American Survey! You gotta laugh, right? Right?
- I am an avid fan of baseball. I am also an avid fan of Chick Fil-A. This just rocks my world.
- Apparantly, wealthy people in Britain are just as prone to excessive snobbery and isolationism as their counterparts in America. Poor Goolgians, just doing their job, and this is what they get.
- Let’s see…you’re telling me it took a spear to the head to learn this lesson?
- “Mom! Dad! I made it into UC San Diego! I’m going to college! My life is finally turning up!” Uh-oh. Acceptance Fail.
- Now you have to hear it as well. I’m not going to be the only one, dammit.
- I am both a fan of, and a friend to, Paul Jenkins. In the world of comics, he is one of the iconic figures. Great writer, wonderful British wit. His Origin story of Wolverine is still a revered work in the industry. Now, it’s becoming a film, and I have to admit, that I am excited. It would appear that more than 100,000 people were obviously more excited than I am, and have seen the movie before it’s even out. Lucky bastards.
Here’s a link to the Southern Authors blog. I did a post yesterday (just scroll down), and somehow managed to decide that the dvd release of Twilight was a great subject matter to discuss. In fairness to ME, though, that movie was just so awful it was worth every minute. I mean, it was so poorly directed, so horribly acted, so predictable in its cinematic attrocities, that I was riveted. Completely spellbound. Ok, that’s a stretch, but I was entertained.
I liken that movie to a book that I carry around with ME everywhere I go. I find the temptation to read it at MY signings to be too compelling to resist. It too, is so bad, it just circles right on around to good. It’s a cult-classic to all those who have read it, or at least parts of it. It is Apocalypse South, a print-on-demand book by Kyle Watson. I hold no pretense that Mr. Watson will wander upon my blog, but if you do, good sir, by all means contact me. I can sell this book a thousand times over if you want to help out. Granted, you should be made aware that I would not be selling it on its literary merit, but rather, on its lack of it. In fact, MY wife Alice had decreed that Mr. Watson’s use of something she calls, “adjectnouns” is, in fact, a groundbreaking technique that is difficult to consistently maintain. For example, “forest woods”, or, “forest trees”, or, “shirt uniform”. I’m just randomly opening the book here. There are a ton more.
One of the most entertaining bits of this book (and there are SOOOOOO many to choose from), occurs shortly after the rapture takes place–on I-285 in this case, though I debate whether or not this already happens on a daily basis–and general hysteria has taken those “Left Behind” (oops, did I say that?) by a gripping force that is only just a touch over-dramatized. Judge for yourself, though:
Dakota glances back at the line of gasonline under a car fire. The sparks from the car are just enough to light up the gasoline trail headed right to Dakota’s shoes. He takes of running at full speed. The car explodes and Dakota dives onto the pavement. He slowly begins to sit up with his clothes torn. He has sustained cuts and bruises throughout his body. Dakota tries to maintain his composure when he notices the back of a woman lying on the side of the interstate. He can hear her crying. She looks so much like Desiree from behind. Believing it may be her, he forgets about his pain and rushes over to her. he presses his hand on her shoulder. She turns around screaming out loud.
“Where is my baby?” She grabs a hold of Dakota’s shirt, “have you seen my baby? He was just in my womb.” Dakota is stunned that it isn’t his wife and is horrified by what she says about her missing baby. He is sorrowful for the lady, but his emotions don’t last long as he hears a loud noise approaching them. he looks up towards the sky and sees a passenger plane coming right at them. Then he looks straight ahead of him and views a herd of people stampeding toward them. He realizes everyone is running toward the exit ramp to escape the coming plane. Dakota helps the lady up off the pavement.
“Lady, we must hurry up and move or we’re both going to be killed.”
“I can’t go,” she replies, “What about my baby?”
“Your baby is gone and we have no time,” he responds, “We must run.” He begins to run, dragging her along by his waist side. She is sobbing tears of pain. The herd of people are gaining ground on Dakota and the lady. The airliner takes a nose dive onto the interstate. Thunderous explosions erupt as the plane crashes. Debris is flying all over the surrounding area. Dakot realizes that he has to do something quick or they will be killed by the stampeding people or by debris from the plane crash. They are inches away from being crushed by the people. Dakota leaps just in time onto a grassy hill under the bridge, and next to the exit ramp. He holds onto the lady as they roll down the hill and the mass of people pass by them. Some of the people are being hit by debris, causing injuries and even death.
Even death? NOOOOOOOO! Sorry, I had to say something. It’s near impossible to even type that without wanting to break in and make comments. The book I own, which I’ve had for nine years now, is actually written in quite thoroughly by MYSELF and others who have braved a read/edit as well. I actually signed off on page 83, as it was seriously beginning to hamper my writing efforts. I didn’t hear the whole book until Alice (MY books by Alice professional) read it during a road trip a few years ago. Since that time, I’ve made a concerted effort to spread the wealth. If not only for the entertainment value, then for the illustration as to how one does not go about writing a book (and why some POD books are such a negative drain on self-published authors).
Just typing it has worn me out. Perhaps I should go read Twain, or Tom Robbins, or some other high-grade, literary mind to recharge. Actually, no, I’d rather have some bacon. That should do just fine.