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Weirding people out since 2006.

Friday, June 30, 2006


"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. HE was with God in the beginning." John 1:1 NIV Study Bible

I'm not going to claim to be a biblical scholar of any sort, and the original interpretation of this particular verse doesn't particularly interest me in the least. I only brought it out to make a point.

Specifically: "The Word was God." For a writer to not have a one-to-one relationship with words that borders on worship is simply unfathomable to me. And yet, I've met some who claim that they are writers decry that they hate the dictionary. Frankly, I can pore over the dictionary for hours on end. Not so I can memorize new words or even to learn anything specifically, but the ins and outs of word structure simply fascinate me. The sounds of words, the prefixes, the suffixes, the roots, the way words have evolved in usage over time.

Oh sure, we all start out life (at least those who were burdened with the tediousness called "public school") with at least a moderate dislike to it. Remember all those times you asked "How do I spell X word?" and you were told to look it up in the dictionary? Well, (and repeat after me) how in the world am I supposed to find it if I can't spell it? Not to mention those tedious tests which the schools had along the lines of "Would you find word X between words A and B or between words W and Z?" And what the hell is a schwa (that upside down e thingie)? Does it really help with pronunciation or confuse the crap out of people? I vote for the latter.

But, if you can take out all the BS, all the nonsense that has been forcefed you through the years about vocabulary tests (whether or not "schwa" was one of the words) and skip the currency converters and just get down to the nitty gritty of the origins and meanings of words you'll find not just history, but, perhaps, a measure of religion as well.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

The Zen of Procrastination

How pitiful are we as a race that we need to get everything done by yesterday? Accomplishments are measured not just by the toys we have but by the length of our to-do lists and how quickly we get them done. By the Goddess, I say we need balance!

In other words, refuse to follow the pack-- procrastinate.

If it really needs to get done, does it really have to get done today? Isn't tomorrow a much better time for completing it? Today has already begun, it's full, drop a few items and get them done tomorrow...or better still later than that.

Yeah, I know the kids need to be fed. But do they have to be fed at noon every single day? "No!" I say. They'll still be hungry later, so feed them then! As a bonus, they'll be more likely to actually eat what you put in front of them.

As for those dishes? What's the point? They'll just get dirty again, so don't wash, don't clean, put it off! Who knows, if you wait long enough someone else will do them. Or, if you live alone and wait even longer, they may learn to wash themselves.

And dusting? Who needs it! Granted, the images on your monitor will be a bit fuzzy and someone may be tempted to write on it, but if you put up a sign that says something along the lines "If you must write in the dust, be creative," folks will be inspired. Imagine the possibilities of everlasting artwork on your coffee table!

So, don't go with the flow and do what needs to be done now now now! Create balance in this world by putting off until...

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Defining Stupidity

Miss Snark calls them "nitwits", I call them "pitchfork wielding maniacs" either way it's stupidity by those who, by all accounts, should know better. If it's a temporary lack of judgement, that's one thing, but if it's permanent, chronic and/or consistant enough to be considered part of your character then it should be punishable by death. Preferably a death that is both slow and painful.

So, who gets the axe (or spork)? Let's start off by considering who does not die.

  • Anyone who can prove actual brain damage to one degree or another. This includes: sufferers of Down's Syndrome or other birth defects as well as anyone who has suffered something along the lines of a car accident or a baseball to the noggin. Note: these accidents must include head injuries with CAT scans to back up their area of incompetence.
  • Anyone who is too young to know any better.

If there is anybody out there who can think of reasons not listed as viable excuses for pitchfork-wielding behavior, then feel free to post them on my comments.

Now, onto the list of definitions of stupidity:

  • Anyone who judges someone purely on the way they look. I believe it was Bill Engvall who first said: "There are plenty of reasons to hate people on an individual basis" or something along those lines. Extra torture points if your reasons for hating said groups of people is somewhere along the lines of "because my parents did" or "because my friends do." This only emphasizes your incompetence to think for yourself.
  • Anyone who believes everything the media tells them. Newspapers, magazines, TV news, what have you are there not to tell you the truth, but to sell a product.
  • Anyone who believes everything they read on the internet. A freeform arena like the web allows everyone to voice their opinion and dole out their miniscule to mediocre knowledge on any subject they damn well please. Unfortunately, this means that a lot of the information out there is both miniscule and mediocre.
  • Anyone who believes everything I write on this blog is true. Frankly, anyone who does scares me and should be the first in line for torture/killing.
  • Anyone who deliberately goes out of their way to hurt or in any other way harm those that are weaker then them. This includes, but is not limited to the emotional, physical and/or sexual abuse of animals and children. If you're bigger and/or stronger then you don't need to brag about it, we can see your muscles. Pick on someone your own size.

Feel free to expound on this list in the comments section. I'm sure there are large chunks of human stupidity that I've skipped over.

Monday, June 26, 2006

Why Not?

After "Where do you get your ideas?" the second most frequent question I get is "But you're so talented, why do you write horror?"

If I'm feeling particularly snotty, I'll say something along the lines of "Because I don't want people like you to read what I write."

However, for the most part I'll say, "Because writing horror is cheaper than going to an amusement park everyday to ride a rollercoaster."

Neither of these answers, however, are the complete truth. Firstly, because I really don't care who is reading my stuff and secondly, because riding a rollercoaster is more like reading a horror tale as opposed to writing one.

Don't get me wrong, I completely enjoy both riding rollercoasters (especially wooden ones) and reading the writing of other folks (not even limited to horror in that respect) but writing horror is a fear unto itself.

It's like being in control and totally out of control at the same time. It's thinking you know what's going to happen and then it suddenly changes on you. It's about totally and completely caring about your characters and then crushing them psychologically, emotionally, physically with a swipe of a pen and then laughing and crying when you do so. Not out of insanity, but because you do what you must when it must be done.

Writing horror, good horror, isn't for the weak of heart, but neither is it for the unemotional. Any hack can write a halfway decent scene of evisceration, it takes emotional depth of character to truly care about the person who is getting eviscerated.

Friday, June 23, 2006

Writing Teacher? Me?

My 9yo has gotten it into his head that he wants to be a writer. When he first told me that was what he wanted to be, frankly I was surprised. The truth of the matter is that the signs of a would-be writer just aren't there. No fascination with the English language, an outright abhorrence for the dictionary, no creative ways of putting his words together, nothing to indicate that this would become a dream of any sort.

But there it is, he says he wants to be a writer. Worse, he's asked me to help him with his writing over the summer. Worse still, I agreed to it. Afterall, I enjoy writing and I would like encourage my children on whatever path they wish to take. Ideal, right?


Most of the problems stem from my end. Until my son told me he wanted to be a writer, the youngest writer-to-be that I've dealt with has been 12yo (in all fairness, I thought he was 13 at the time though). The difference between a writer at 9 and a writer at 12 is that the 12yo has a pretty good idea what a paragraph is and what it should contain. At least what a paragraph is as taught by English teachers. Y'know topic sentence and a couple more sentences describing the topic sentence.

Basic stuff, right? To most of us, sure, but for a 9yo this has got to be one of the hardest things in the world. At least if I judge it by the tears that have poured out my kid's eyes since I said "Write a sentence about the mirror and then two more sentences as to why this specific mirror is that way." In other words, an exercise in "showing not telling" at its most basic level. Unfortunately, even this was too difficult for him. Sure, he could write three sentences about the mirror, but it was three of the exact same sentences, even after I explained to him the different parts of the mirror (frame, silvering, etc). To make matters worse, each sentence told but didn't show the phrase "the mirror was ugly."

I love the child, but he's the sensitive type, so I know if he truly wants to be a writer, specifically a professional writer, he's going to have to get some backbone and a thicker hide. The fact is though, I'm not his editor, publisher, agent, what have you, I'm his Mom. Sure, I'm tough on him when he breaks household rules. I set the bar high for him in most cases and 9 times out of 10, he'll meet or exceed where I've set that bar. However, when it comes to his writing, I can't be tough on him even though I know others will be.

Is this an unforseen soft spot? Hardly, because it's not my job to be harsh, just tough. I also have to realize when I've set the bar too high. And when it comes right down to it, the toughest thing about being a writer is not all the editing and the garnering of critiques, but the actual act of writing.

So, that's his new project, to write. Everyday. No ifs, ands, or buts, and certainly no excuses, because if he can do this, he will become if not a better writer (as I'm certain he will be), but far more importantly, he can claim what a lot of people try to: "I'm a writer."

And isn't that the whole point?

Being Spidey...Well, Sort of

From the time I was eight until almost ten, I had this thing for Spiderman. Well, as much as any pre-pubescent can have a "thing" for a comic book hero. I bugged my parents for anything and everything to do with Spiderman. I didn't just want to date Spidey, I wanted to be Spidey.

The fact that Spiderman was a male and I was a female was but a minor nuisance that I figured I could work with. Not around, or overcome, but deal with. Kinda like I'd deal with being a grown-up when I got to that point.

And then, I did grow-up, and I deal with it. Well, more or less. And I still want to be Spidey. Not literally (especially since that would involve a much closer relationship with a spider than I'd ever want), and I sure as heck don't want to go around saving people (too many of 'em anyway, and most of those don't deserve saving), but there's some things about him I never stopped wanting to be.

Y'know, like that part of Spidey that always had that internal struggle as to whether or not he wanted to be a hero, but in the end he always made the right decision even when he doubted himself. That would be cool. I seem to have the opposite problem, I'm always sure of myself even though a lot of times I make the wrong decisions.

But a gal can always dream.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Dreams & Nightmares

Lately I've been having a spate of what "normal" people call good dreams. Y'know, pleasant romps through worlds filled with days of sunshine and happiness. Everything in these nighttime wanderings is pleasant and perfect where nothing goes wrong.

I hate dreams like that.

Not only do they remind me of the wretched horrific-ness of the rest of my life, but they're terrible for my muse. It makes her turn into this happy beastie who wants to inspire me to write romances or worse, fantasies filled with unicorns and pixies. Makes me wonder who the hell she is.

Afterall, my muse is part vampire, part outright bitch with attitude. She and I both do better when my dreams are filled with landscapes of blood and those odd occurrences that only happen in nightmares. Y'know the stuff, where I feel like I'm running through sludge whenever I'm being chased by whatever ails me or where I'm trapped in a room that doesn't have a door and it's cold as hell.

Yeah, that's the stuff I like, love, and live off of. My muse thrives as she hisses in my ear how this part could be turned into a story or that part could be a plot point for my current project. For her, nightmares are not just inspiration, they're familiar territory.

Now that is where I like to be: scared spitless and inspired. :)

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Bumper Stickers

Just some ideas for bumper stickers/T-shirts/buttons/whatever that have been bouncing around in my head.

  • So little time, so much crap I have to deal with
  • Of course I have a headache...I'm a Mom
  • Either hand over the pie or suffer a sporking
  • Witches are spellbinding
  • I'm sorry, do I need to use smaller words around you?
  • Cogito, ergo, sum. You, however, may not exist.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Planning Ahead

Sometimes, I wish I were more organized. Sure, I can create to do lists, write stuff down on calendars, read websites that tell me how to do whatever I'm supposed to be doing. My problem is follow-up, which is why I haven't killed anyone yet.

You see, besides it being morally objectionable, killing (and the inevitable clean-up) takes too damn much time out of my day. Oh sure, I could get the kids to help if I wanted to, but training them in the finer details of homicide takes time as well.

But, just because I'll never follow through, doesn't mean I won't make the to-do list (just in case, y'know?):

1) Choose a victim. Without a victim, homicide is a waste of time. Fortunately, this is the easiest part. Revenge is always a good motive. Even if the original person you want to get vengence upon is long dead, finding substitutes works wonders as you may set yourself up for a career in serial killing.

If you don't hate anyone, but just want the money, that's also a good reason as well. Keep in mind though, that the richer someone is, the higher security they're likely to have on their home which increases planning time.

When it comes right down to it, motive isn't really necessary. You just need to find a victim if you wish to kill. Anyone will do.

2) Choose a method. Some folks disagree with me on the order of these two steps. However, if you decide that you want to beat someone to death, but you choose someone who is likely to kick your ass instead via that technique it defeats the purpose. So, remember, victim first, then technique.

Another important thing about method to remember is how experienced are you with a particular weapon. Despite popular opinion, using a weapon that you aren't familiar with just may be the technique of choice. For example, if you are well-known for your swordsmanship, you may decide to use a gun or poison instead.

A note on poisons: These are both the most versatile and the most unreliable. For example, if you choose a slow acting poison (such as arsenic) on your intended victim, you could be caught before the intended corpse is actually deceased. Thereby foiling your plans. However, with the parole system and good behavior, you may be released before your trial is completed. That being said, getting close to your intended victim is going to be a wee bit harder.

Note: This is also a good time to determine whether torture will be involved.

3) Plan a method of disposal. So many murderers kill in the heat of passion and forget this step. The body has to be eliminated one way or another. This would be a good time to stock up on cleaning supplies as well. Dead bodies leave quite a mess.

4) Stalk, I mean "follow," the intended target for a few days, weeks, whatever it takes to understand his or her schedule. This works even better if you suffer from some sort of sociopathic disorder which will help you hide your true intentions, thereby allowing you to get closer to your vic. If you're already well acquainted with the vic's schedule, feel free to skip this step. Also feel free if you happen to live with the future corpse.

4a) Since stalking ahem, "following" is time consuming and includes long dull hours of surveillance, use this spare time to plan out an effective trap. This has the dual effectiveness of assuring you stay awake during this period and also helps with multi-tasking. Just make sure you don't get so caught up in planning the trap that you lose track of your victim.

Also, keep in mind that the simpler the trap the better. You don't want the details to either overwhelm you or bog you down.

5) Choose a date of action. Mark it on your calendar if you must, but so you don't get caught label it something like "Jimmy's birthday party." Note: that only works if you don't really have plans to go to Jimmy's b'day party. Be a shame if you missed the party because you were killing someone.

Remember, if you have included torture in your plans make sure you have plenty of room on your schedule for this particular entertainment. You don't want to have to leave in the middle of your business trip and come back to find that your vic has died of thirst or starvation before you've finished what you were planning on doing.

6) Assure that you have a rock solid alibi for the time in question. Unless, of course, you want to get caught.

6a) Set your trap. You did remember to plan it out, right?

7) Kill or torture and kill. Whatever method you chose earlier.

8) Clean up. Remember to not only dispose of the body with the technique you chose earlier, but to also get rid of any traces of yourself if you didn't do it at home.

9) Savor the pleasure of a job well done.

Some notes about working with a partner. Don't. One of you will flake out and turn on the other. Killing should be a solo job if you want to both get the job done and get away with it.

Finally, as much as you are proud of yourself for have finally killed, resist the temptation to brag about it. Some folks just don't get it.

Sunday, June 18, 2006

Random Thoughts About Blogging

In no particular order:

1. Thou shalt not blog while brain dead. Truthfully, I think I'm breaking this rule now, but I've made an exception because I'm mentally exhausted and I need to blog to let something leak out. What, I'm not sure, that's why I'm making this list.

2. Sporking almost rhymes with blogging for a reason. What that reason is, I'm not quite sure.

3. The reason lists are constants on blogs is because they are easy to both write and follow.

4. The reason lists are common on my blog specifically is because that's just the mood I'm in when I blog.

5. No one should blog without a source of caffeine nearby. My personal favorite is Diet Pepsi Vanilla, but I've also been known to drink hazlenut-mochaccinos on occasion.

6. Chocolate, while not specifically necessary for blogging, is necessary for life. Sidenote: Whoever invents the Chocolate IV will be one rich mofo.

7. I blog better when I'm cranky or irritable, but not both. Why this is, I don't know. Fortunately, these moods are quite frequent in my life and they like to linger. Hell, it's better than "constant happiness" which is downright irritating.

8. For me at least, nightmares may be wonderful for my stories, but I have a feeling that the 8' chicken that showed up in a bizarre dream I had about a week ago is gonna show up in a future blog. Oh look, it just did.

9. Thou shalt cease blogging when an overwhelming urge for pie overrides all other senses. Which is why I'm going to stop now.

Thursday, June 15, 2006


I have decided to take an extended break from blogging about my eventual takeover of the world. Frankly, because I don't want to do it (take over the world that is, blogging is still fun) because I realized something. Ruling the world requires a level of micromanagement that is just not for me.

So, instead I'm going to talk about shoes. Yeah, you read that right, shoes.

My mother is what could be called a fashionista. I don't take after her in that regard. She'll suffer for her clothing, I'm just happy if it fits. Absolutely thrilled if the colors coordinate as well.

This, however, does not apply to my fascination for shoes. Not spiky high-heeled stilettos mind you, I still won't suffer for my clothing. But I love boots. Granny boots, hikers, thigh-high, ankle-high, show me a pair of boots with a low heel and I'm drooling. I love the things, even snow boots.

And yet, I only own two pair of boots. Is it because I can't afford the darlings? No. Is it because I'm the type of Mom who will sacrifice everything for her children. Mostly true, but we aren't so poor that this is really an issue. So, why oh why do I have to suffer with only two pairs of boots when I would do just about anything this side of selling my kids for a closet full?

Because I can't find any that FIT! I was born with the curse of a real woman's foot, not that dainty tiny ass foot that they (the shoe retailers) decided to stock on their shelves, but a cotton pickin' triple danged E foot! Not just wide, but extra-freakin' WIDE! And there ain't a shoehorn in the world that can turn a B shoe into a EEE.

So, shoe retailers, I ask you this. If the economy is run on supply and demand, and you want to make as much profit as possible from the masses (and in this case, I'll admit I'm one of 'em, but not with a pitchfork, a spork). I'm demanding, now where the hell is my SUPPLY!?!

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

When I Take Over the World, Pt Three: Childcare

As soon as possible, preferably in the planning stages, but as shortly after conception as is reasonable, and certainly not later than the birth of the child, a Parental Helper will be assigned for each adult (one for Dad, one for Mom, and if Grandma is in the house, she'll get one too) that will be living in the household (household accomodations will be discussed later) with the child. This Parental Helper is there to assure that the home environment is not only safe and clean, but that all of the child's needs are met as well (from the basics such as food, clothing and shelter to the less obvious, but no less necessary, cuddles and kisses).

This Parental Helper will be trained in a wide variety of areas such as: housekeeping and organization, basic knowledge of psychiatric illnesses and their treatments (she or he will not be responsible for diagnosis, but will be aware of potential warning signs), and a variety of alternative parenting techniques.

The Parental Helper is just that. She or he is not there to pass judgement on the skill or lack therein of a parent or other responsible adult, but too assure that the child is cared for and the household will run smoothly after he or she leaves.

That being said, the Parental Helper's responsibility is first and foremost with the child. If alcohol or drugs are starting to become a problem, the Parental Helper would be well within her rights to dispose of the problem substances in any way he or she deems fit (within the realms of reason of course, Parental Helpers aren't going to set the house on fire just to dispose of a bottle of booze). He or she may also demand an on-the-spot drug or alcohol test if he or she deems it necessary.

Non-compliance to the on-the-spot drug or alcohol test is considered failing the test. Failure will mean that the person who did not pass the test will be required to leave the home until an acceptable measure of sobriety is reached. Repeated and chronic failures fall under the category of "druggies and alcoholics", ergo, they will be killed. Yes, it sucks, but running the world does have its parts that won't be easy.

Refusing to leave the home when requested to by the Parental Helper will be considered a request to no longer live in a home where a child is present. In other words, if you're drunk or stoned, you have have the choice to leave the home either temporarily or permanently.

Note: temporarily leaving the home is equivelant to a 3 block radius from wherever the child may be at during the specific moment. This is assuming the irresponsible adult and the child can not see one another. Out in the country, the radius may be wider.

There's more to this topic, but I'm interested in hearing what other folks think about "Parental Helpers" as a concept.

Monday, June 12, 2006

Interlude: Vicious Attack Plot Bunny (SF)

Ok, most folks call these "plot bunnies," but, well, that implies a level of cuteness that frankly, makes me barf, and since I'm currently consuming chocolate (M&M minis, just in case you were wondering) I don't want to take any chances.

Every once in a while I get an idea that I know I won't write, but I'd love to see someone else work on. Sometimes it's out of my genre, and other times I simply don't have the technical experience, nor desire to figure out the background info.

The rules for adopting one of these vicious attack plot bunnies (VAPB for short) are simple:

1) Adoption is free. After all, with rabbits this vicious who the hell would want to pay for it?

2) VAPB's don't mind being mutated. In other words, if you want to use only part of it or change a lot of it, feel free.

3)I would like to know if someone does use it, and if possible, let me see it. When I say "if possible" that means it's basically up to you, but if you have it floating somewhere in cyberspace or are willing to give/send me a copy I'd love to take a peek. If you get it published, let me know where I can find a copy. If the latter, a mention in the acknowledgements would be nice, but not necessary. A free book or issue of the mag it's published in would be cool, but even I think that's pushing it. :)

4)Multiple folks can adopt the same VAPB. These things like to mutate as soon as they end up assisting a specific muse, so many folks can run with it and scare folks in various ways.

One more thing, to quote Saw 2 "Oh yes, there will be blood."


This particular VAPB is SF which is why I'm letting it go.

I'm sure a lot of folks have read about the time travellers who go back in time to prevent this plague or another by killing the folks who will spread the plague (y'know pandemic nightmare, etc. etc.). Well, this VAPB has a twist on that standard.

Instead of humans going back in time, it's robots. A very sophisticated AI complete with false implanted memories to give the illusion that he or she is a psychopathic serial killer. This background could be entirely made up or you could pick and choose the backgrounds from serial killers throughout history, or, for bonus points choose an unsolved serial murderer from the past (such as Jack the Ripper or the original Zodiac killer).

And then something happens, a glitch of sorts. Perhaps it's a robot that decides to cause an uprising among its kind, time travelling in order to make the whole plague thing seem like a daydream in comparison.

Or, alternatively, this robot doesn't want to kill and instead wants to smell flowers all day a la Ferdinand the Bull. What will this robot do? Hide from those that programmed it, tell its programmers that it doesn't want to do this and risk being re-programmed (in that case, what if it can't be re-programmed, will it be destroyed?)

Have fun and don't forget to feed the bunnies. :)

When I Take Over the World, Pt Two: Who Lives

1) Strategically placed puppets/trustworthy allies in governments throughout the world. This assures both a diversity in government, and ultimate subservience to my ideals. Does it get any better than that?

2)ISP's (except AOL). Internet service both simultaneously assuages the masses and makes me happy. That being said, inept technical support personnel will be shot on sight. Oh yeah, and if I'm put on hold for longer than say, five minutes, and the music sucks? That ISP will be eliminated. Muzak is painful and anyone who thinks it's a good idea to use it (for whatever reason) will be tortured...at least until someone can get back to them.

3)Chefs. What can I say? I like to eat. However, arrogant waiters/waitresses (and this includes airline attendants who are really nothing more than waitstaff at 30,000 feet) will be forced to work the counter at a fast food place for all eternity (don't worry teens--the usual staff of the environs, I've got jobs lined up for you, and they pay better too).

3A)Dessert Chefs, especially Chocolatiers. These folks will have a special place once I take over. I'll even tolerate a bit of arrogance on their part, after years of suffering through stupid fad diets, they deserve special privelages that are denied to others.

4)My ever evolving Army of angsty, hormone driven teenagers. The more zits and the less social skills they have, the better. Outcasts and former fast food workers will be at the top ranks of this Army. Better still if they've been abused in any way by parentals. I'll be their only mentor, a substitute mother figure if you will. And if there's anyone folks will kill for it's Mom.

Note: No, they won't have weapons. They won't need them since they will defend me to the death with their bare hands. Truly, I don't want a Columbine in my compound (not that I'll have a specific "compound" per say, that's too risky (I'll discuss more of this later), but I sure don't want the kids shooting at each other).

Anyone who is not on this list, defend your reasons as to why you should survive once I take over the world...and I'll think about it.

Saturday, June 10, 2006

When I Take Over the World, Pt One: Who Dies

One of my passtimes is figuring out who gets to live and who must die when the time comes that I take over the world.

Hey, it could happen.


1) Anyone who has the remotest capabilities of inventing a time machine. Sorry, but I don't want all my hard work to go to waste because of a glitch in the time-space continuum.

2)China. Either get acquainted with the term "human rights" or you're history bub. Same goes for any other country with this issue. Yeah, I'm talking about you Korea!

3)Iraq. Just blow up the whole damn middle east in one shot so we can be done with it. Frankly, I'm tired of them hogging all the headlines.

4)Politicians. Either get a damn opinion that means something or get the fuck out.

5)Drunks & druggies. Why the hell should my kids have their lives endangered because you can't get your shit together? And don't give me that crap about how it's an addiction, I don't care.

6)Anyone who substitutes a PC term for a perfectly fine non-PC term. I can accept the fact you don't want to offend anyone who doesn't deserve it, but does "differently abled" really mean anything? We're ALL differently abled. Disabled is just fine folks. Hell, I'll even accept "physically disabled" because it differentiates from the "mentally disabled."

7)Prejudicial, chauvanistic bigots. There are plenty of reasons to hate folks on an individual basis, to isolate a group is severely limiting your mental capabilities.

8)Any idiots not covered in the groups above. This includes, but is not limited to...my neighbors, my in-laws (except my mother-in-law, she rocks), a certain non-writer with the initials "NP" (and any of his adamant supporters, you know who you are), my oldest son's third grade teacher, my fourth grade teacher, random dipwaddy suck-ups (well not so random, *cough* mac *cough*), and anyone else I forgot to mention.

Please feel free to leave your suggestions in my comments.

Nitpicks Nitwits (Did I Spell that Right?)

Don't get me wrong, I've been known to throw a book across the room because it was so riddled with spelling and grammatical errors that I wanted to sue the publisher (this company, by the way, is still in business as far as I know, however, I refuse to purchase, or even check out of the library, anything with their name on it) for wasting my time with such garbage. I've also been known to physically cringe when I've seen a misplaced comma or (more often) a misused apostrophe in an advertisement.

But these are things that are supposed to be proofread and copyedited by something more than a standard spell check. In other words, professionally presented work, checked and re-checked by professionals. From writer to editor to proofreader back to writer and editor to printer to editor and probably somewhere along the lines, the proofreader again. An entire series of professionals to check check check and check spelling and grammatical errors until it's at least 99.99% perfect. I'll accept the fact that something, somewhere will slip through the cracks, but if it's on every page, or even in every chapter, that book is done and cursed (and, more than likely the publishers should be held at least responsible for that portion of my rent deposit that I lost for chucking said book and denting the wall).

Neither forum nor blog comments should be held up to this same standard. So why is it, every damn time I read a blog about writing there's some nitpicky "pitchfork wielder" out for blood because this word or another spelled wrong? Usually, it's not even a word that a spell checker could catch because it has something to do with a word, like "principal" instead of "principle", that spell check sees as ok.

And whoa be to the one who, for some reason or other is severely spelling disabled (usually with good reason, such as dyslexia) because an entire chatroom of folks will gang up on this person (I've seen it happen) as if he or she is an idiot whose opinion matters nothing. This behavior is simply vile...like a pack of wolves pouncing on unwary prey the group attacks leaving nothing but blood.

But, unlike the wolf, the pack isn't hungry just mean, vicious, and stupid. Yeah, stupid, because by following the pack mind and wielding those danged pitchforks until the "misspelling monster" ran out of town they never learned that despite this person's inability to spell that he can fix just about anything, and he's one of the few, who, to this day, will pull over to the side of the road to help a stranger.

Friday, June 09, 2006


When I was a kid my brother and I had rooms that were right next to each other. While the walls between the two of us weren't exactly paper thin, they did allow his playing of "The Dead Kennedies" and "The Milkmen" to get through.

I hated that type of music, especially since I was a newly minted teenager in love with some heartthrob or another. Probably Scott Baio considering the era. So I liked love songs, particularly from "Air Supply." Anyone who knows me is probably more than shocked about this fact, but hey, we all make mistakes, and if adolescence isn't the time to make them, when is?

Anyway, eventually I'd get sick of the room rattles of punk, and crank up my stereo. Since I was older and preferred quality of electronics over appearance, "Air Supply" won out every time. At which point my Mom (and occasionally my Dad) would say (and I'm sure you know the line): "TURN THAT DOWN!" Which we would both obediently do...for about five minutes. Then the cycle would start anew.

Now that I'm a mother and my children are into "toys that make noise," I can sympathize. What happens to our hearing when we get older? I thought we were supposed to get deafer, but now I can hear every little pin drop, every whispered "plan" coming out of my kids' room, and just about all of it gets on my nerves.

Frankly, I like quiet, but what I get most of the time is ear-throbbing noise.

Well, except for when I'm doing the dishes, then I'll crank up the stereo (no longer Air Supply, but classic 70s rock), but hey, that's my music, so it's different.

Thursday, June 08, 2006

Good, Bad, I'm the One with the Blog

I've seen Army of Darkness about a bazillion (definition: slightly higher than infinity, but smaller than "enough") times. Ash has got to be one of my all time favorite idiots, and face it, there's hardly a dumber guy on the planet. Case in point: "Three books? I didn't know there would be three books!" which is followed up by two of them attacking him, the second of which he places the NON-groovy (or, for those few of you who have the misfortune of not seeing this movie. Yeah, all three of you, his non-metallic) hand on. You think he would have learned that these books are vicious...but noooooooooooooo.

But that's just the way he is.

However, the real reason I love this movie is because of Bruce Campbell. That voice, that face, the way he can reverse act (sorry, I'm not going to explain that concept for ya, you'll have to buy the original version of the AOD DVD to find out). Yummy, yummy, droolalicious and so much more.

In fact, I'm such a huge fan of his that I actually sat through the entire film of "Alien Apocalypse" not once, but twice. Now that's devotion. Sorry, Brucie, but that film was physically painful to watch. You, however, were glorious in it.

I've said all this to let the small handful of you who read this blog (as of this writing, it's about 6 folks, and two of 'em are my kids) that I do adore Bruce Campbell, and I always will (from afar, unless of course, he happens to show up in Wisconsin, at which point I'd probably just drool all over his feet). And while he was absolutely wonderful as Ash, and I definitely do not want anyone else playing him on the screen, there was a play. Very local, very private, but it was a priceless remake, or should I say "redoing" of Army of Darkness.

Sure, Spinach Chin died (for being annoying, but don't worry "Some Other Guy" shows up later [and yes, that was the name of the character]), and all the bits were out of order, but oh lawdy it was hysterical, and priceless, and all sorts of other adjectives...

Including "precious," in case you haven't figured it out yet, this was a play done for me by my two children. So, while Bruce's place as everyone else's Ash is solid, at my household, he's got some competition.

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

You've Got My Information, So Use It!

Like many folks, I've got at least one grocery store card. You know, those things that give you a false sense of saving money when what you're really doing is doling out information that is frankly, none of the store's business? Oh sure, they use the info they gather from you, such as your address so they can find out from what area folks are shopping from so if they decide to build a new store they can find out prime locations.

But that's about it, at least from what I can tell.

I've never received a "recommended for you" sales circular in my mailbox. I get the same ol' generic circular everyone else gets. Oh sure, I get the occasional useless coupon that gets spit out when I make a purchase. When I say "useless," I'm not kidding. I have yet to see a one of these related to my long term purchases. Because if they did, this coupon would not be for a carton of Kents.

Sure, I smoke, but in my entire 20+ years of damaging my lungs at the rate of a pack a day, I've never once purchased Kents. I've had one, I think, when I "bummed" one off of a pal of mine, but I've never gone out of my way for it. Walked a mile for a pack of Camels when I changed my mind about quitting, but not Kents.

So why recommend it to me? Because I happened to purchase a carton of GPC's at that particular time? That's the only thing I can assume, because I usually don't buy smokes at the grocery store, but at a cigarette discounters. If the grocery store kept tabs of what I was buying on a regular basis, it would have known that, and I would have gotten a coupon for something far more useful, like a discount on General Foods Internation Coffee or the like.

Sure, I'd buy it anyway, coupon or no, but if stuff like that started popping up for me at a store? I'd probably only have one grocery store card instead of...well, three. And isn't that what stores want? Customer loyalty?

Well dang it, if you want loyalty...earn it by using the information you already have.

Monday, June 05, 2006

Wiggle, Push, BOOM!

Sixty five million years, give or take a few months here or there and that's about how long the human race has been killing one another. We're freakin' talented in that regard, of all the advancements, of all the technology, of all the beautiful (and not so beautiful) works of art we have created, the only one that we have perfected is the ways and means we can kill each other.

Think I'm kidding? Try this experiment. Just for a moment, wiggle your pointer finger. Damn easy eh? Now push a button. Even easier. That's the difference between pulling a trigger and setting bombs in motion.

Even scarier is the fact when you consider all of the time we've been on earth it used to be far more complicated than that. During the American Civil War, soldiers had to carry around not just one, but a handful of muskets. Why? Because it'd take a long time to load one. Now, I'm not sure of the exact specifications or precise steps of musket loading, but I do know how to load an M-16 which can kill faster and more people in a lot less time if you know how to aim the thing. Which, really, isn't that hard to do once you know how...breathe, relax, aim & squeeze...or as the US Army says "BRAS."

Makes it appear that the M-16 is idiot proof. Not so, anyone who has ever put in a firing pin backwards can attest to that. But pushing a button? That's easier (as we've already established), and considering our world's leaders are either A) Not much smarter than us (afterall, they're still human born with the same propensity to idiocy and temper as we are). or B)Way dumber (I mean really, in the US they're brought in pretty much by popular vote {don't tell me about electoral college, it's still a bunch of "folks like us"} and the masses, as already established, are a bunch of pitchfork-wielding maniacs).

Either way we're screwed if someone in charge gets an itchy finger.

Sunday, June 04, 2006

Flipped Out

There's a time and a place for logic. Watching cartoons is not one of those times. I'm specifically speaking of the ever-popular "brain removal" technique that is repeated on many of these programs. Y'know, the one where they flip open the head and just take out the brain and the "victim" of this technique is either A) a drooling idiot or B) no one notices any difference.

The thing is, I started thinking about this technique as it may come in handy someday. How? Who the heck cares? I just like finding "possibly useful stuff." And this whole thought process took out a good chunk of a day when I'd rather be doing practically nothing. Haven't decided whether this sucks or not, but I did come to some rather strange conclusions.

1. In order to do this you'd need a bonesaw of some sort. The skull is a rather tough thing to cut open. In other words, the second-hand knives I bought at a garage sale just won't work.

2. You'd have to have a measure of dexterity in order to assure that you don't get bone fragments all over the place. I hate vacuuming, and the cleaner that I have would panic and choke up anything larger than the most miniscule fragment of bone dust.

3. It's probably a good idea to lay down some plastic first. Besides the blood, cerebral fluid can get awfully messy, and the plastic would assure a quick and easy clean up.

4. Wear ear plugs, or, if you care about what the neighbors think, invest in duct tape. This, of course, assumes that the subject you're experimenting on is concious, because for some odd reason I believe there will be a lot of screaming.

5. Plastic or rubber gloves would be a wise investment as well. Don't want to mess up your manicure eh?

6. Scissors, you'll definitely need scissors. Besides the fact that the brain is attached to the spinal cord, you also have the eyeballs. Give the eyeballs to your kids for marbles (shellac them first to assure they roll smoothly).

Saturday, June 03, 2006

You Tell 'Em SK

"At bottom, you see, we are not Homo Sapiens at all. Our core is madness. The prime directive is murder. What Darwin was too polite to say, my friends, is that we came to rule the earth not because we were the smartest, or even the meanest, but because we have always been the craziest, most murderous motherfuckers in the jungle." ~Headmaster Ardai (The Head) in Stephen King's Cell

Makes a lot more sense than "we survived because we're smart." Sorry folks, we're a bunch of idiots, and if you doubt it you're one of 'em. Or rather, as Tommy Lee Jones's character said in Men in Black, "The person is smart, the people are stupid." Face it, we're a bunch of pitchfork-wielding, panicky maniacs whenever something frightens us. And a lot of things frighten us if history is any judge.

Or even a trip to the local grocery store (which is more often becoming a "Super Chain" of some variety or another). I mean really, how often does someone have to scan at item before they realize "Hey, it's not entered in the computer"? Or for that matter...how often do you have to press the buttons on the remote before you realize you may need to change the batteries?

From what I've observed, it's quite a bit more than the number of licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop.

Thursday, June 01, 2006

Sing a Song about...Zombies?

I've got this tune going through my head. Don't get me wrong, I'm not musically inclined by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, I believe the term that would best be used to describe me would be somewhere along the lines of "tone deaf." However, that being said, it's a catchy little song (at least in my not so humble opinion) and the words goes something like this:

Work my fingers to the bone...
Work my fingers to the bone...
I don't need no sleep
All I want to do is eat eat eat

Ok, I'll admit, it sucks on the page, but trust me...it sounds really neat over here. Well, except for the part where I'm actually singing it. That's just awful.

Horrific Beginnings

"Where do you get your ideas?"

I've heard this question not only as a writer, but frequently in my day-to-day life. However, it's usually phrased as "What the hell were you thinking?" I'd like to believe that this is a matter of someone or another simply appreciating my creativity, however, I doubt it. Afterall, my mouth spouts off a matter of phrases, thoughts, and the like before my brain has a chance to say "WHOA!"

And then there are times when I give my brain a chance to mull things over, and that's when it gets downright terrifying. Which means I'm either a genius, or demented...probably both.