DON’T LET YOUR S0UL BE L0NELY!!!

 

Chuck Wendig has once again put out a great Flash Fiction challenge at Terrible Minds. This week is combining those terrible spam e-mails written by someone who understands English as a third or fourth language with a horror-based theme.

I wasn't planning on participating because it sounded like work and I'm not a fan. However, I've been blowing off my writing lately and decided I needed to do this. So here's what I got. If you're in need of daemonic possession, these folks can help. Or so they claim.

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A single unattached soul has been known to be causing severe lonliness in people in all the dimension planes, not just YOURS! Your soul shouldn’t have to be in your body by itself suffering from being sad and bored. Your soul is crying out and WE CAN HELP!!!

We are a COMPANY that provides daemonic possessions to mortals who crave ACTION and EXCITEMENT in their lives! No matter what your income or religious preferences our COMPANY can much your soul with a daemon that will PERMANENTLY attach itself for all eternity!

Many blevieve daemonic possession is just a myth or a story told around campfires in scary movies. THIS IS FALSE! We work directly with the Dread Lord Mephisto HIMSELF for the highest-quality most foul shades of Satanic spirit that the Underworld has to offer. Still don’t believe us? Even SN0PES has to agree that they can’t not find proof that our possessions work!!!

Our patented 3-step method will turn you from regular Joe Rube to agent of the Lord of Flies in literally SECONDS! We will bring your to our COMPANY office, with thousands of locations across the known universes for YOUR CONVENIENCE to get your started on your exciting road to HELL!

We will show you the proper method of drawing the pentagram in your basement, root cellar, or one-star motel room with the proper tools. DO NOT TRY THIS ON YOUR OWN!!!! Trying to created your own sign of THE DEVIL could result in not summoning a daemon at all or risking calling a non-COMPANY affiliated daemon and we can’t be responsible for you or your soul in that case.

Once you have created your pentagram, you’ll step into it and say our tried and true MAGIC WORDS!!! Uttering these ancient phrases has a success rate of 150%!!! A COMPANY daemon will immediately appear before you, asking 3 questions THAT WE’LL GIVE YOU THE ANSWER TO!!!! Answer these questions with the right answers and you’re POSESSED!!!

IT REALLY IS THAT EASY!!!! Don’t believe us? Read this statement from a satisfied customer!!!

“I was a Roman Catholic priest for more than 40 years. I had done terrible things to literally thousands of defenseless children, but my superiours had told me my relationship with God protected me from the law of man. As such, I figured no way could I be daemon possessed. Nothing could be further from the truth!!!! I followed the COMPANY’S patented 3-step method and before I knew it, a 10 thousand year old Satanic minion named K’Raithres bonded to my very soul and showed me evil I never thought possible. And the best thing is that I don’t have to be held accountable for my actions!!! I tell people I’m possessed by the DEVIL         and they believe it!!!!” –Archbishop Kyle Molesterer.

DON’T WAIT!!!! CALL NOW or the best daemons will be gone. Give our operators the password SOFT-HEADED SIMPLETON and you’ll KEEP 5% of your own FREE WILL! Don’t keep your soul lily-white and untainted! Be one of the cool kids and get yoru daemonic possession TODAy!

30 Cult Movies You Must See

There are some truly God-awful films on this list, but there are some pretty good ones as well. Buckaroo Banzai was marketed like mad, especially in comic books of the era, yet most people barely remember this gem, if at all. How many on the list have you seen?

Amazing Photos Through Time

 

History's full of cool stuff and after 1840 or so, cameras existed to provide visual proof of said coolness. That pic? Fucking awesome. Read on.

A Tale of a Racist Fish

(This is what happens when you Google "Racist Fish.")

Another one of those great Chuck Wendig flash fiction challenges over at Terrible Minds. Last week, the challenge was to write a very simple but very powerful single sentence. This week, the challenge was to pick one of those sentences and create a story around it. The sentence I chose, from someone named Noel who didn't link to his website, is the first line of this story.
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She couldn’t be sure that the fish was a condescending dickhead, but she was starting to suspect as much. It was neither its look nor its body language, but more his never-ending screed of racial slurs aimed at passersby.

Donna had gotten over her amazement at the reality of a talking catfish quickly after hearing its taunts of “Look atcha, ya fuckin’ beaners!” as a Latino family walked past. Shocked and mortified on their behalf, they themselves acted as though they heard nothing, continuing on to the other exhibits.

Edging slowly to the tank, she stopped only once to watch for a reaction from the black woman who stopped briefly to look at the fish. It had just let loose with some borderline criminal comments regarding the woman’s lineage, but again, the woman seemed not to hear it. Donna felt her face flush again in horror, but the woman looked at Donna and, smiling a friendly smile at her, walked away.

Looking at the catfish, Donna leaned closer yet to the glass partition separating her from the racist fish wondering if that particular term had ever been used in the history of ever. Her nose nearly touched the glass when the fish turned and made eye contact.

“Help you, fatty?”

She jumped back, stunned for a second, then angry.

“I’m not fat,” she whispered at it.

“OK. Wal-Mart called. They want their scooter back, ya pig.”

“My weight is actually below the national average, thank you very much,” Donna said, her voice a little louder.

“Yeah it ain’t. So you aren’t as fat as you could or should be. That’s like being the lead retard at the Special Olympics.”

“You shut up!”

This hadn’t been whispered; in fact, it was yelled rather loudly. People around her were looking at her. Did she just tell that fish to shut up, she heard a teen-aged girl twenty or so feet away ask her mother. Donna gave a shaky smile to those looking at her and turned back to the tank.

The catfish (she definitely felt ‘it’ was a ‘he’ based on tone of voice and the fact no woman Donna knew of, fish or not, would be so crass in public) was still looking at her. Expecting the newly-sexually-identified him to be scowling at her, he was, in fact, not. Talking with a Philly accent must have anthropomorphized him enough.

“You shut up,” she said, much quieter. It dawned on her when he spoke, the fish’s voice was clear as day. Odd, being in water behind thick glass and, you know, a fish at all. She decided to try something.

Can you hear me, she thought, looking the fish dead in his eyes.

He looked back at her, saying nothing.

So much for that, Donna thought. She began chastising herself for thinking a fish could read her mind but shook that thought out of her head. It was a talking catfish. Communications with such a creature haven’t been, to Donna’s knowledge, established, so she should be proud of herself for thinking outside the box.

“Yeah, I can hear you, chubby,” the fish said, interrupting her thoughts. “And you are fat. Like I always say, can’t see the ribs, not taking dibs, am I right? But I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of ribs at plenty of buffets. Does it count as cannibalism when a cow like you piles a couple big racks of ribs down your gullet?”

She was about to speak but remembered it wasn’t necessary. Plus, she didn’t want those around her thinking she was any more weird.

Why are you so hateful? Donna glared at him. I’m not fat and you’re not going to get to me.

“Really I’m not?” the fish asked, a sneer in his voice if not on his face. “You’re about to start bawlin’ and you’re talking to a fucking fish!”

With that, he swam to the other side of the aquarium, casting his eyes upon a group of children looking to be no older than eight or nine.

“Jesus, the gay practically seeps outta that kid,” he said. “A haircut like that and those shoes pretty much scream ‘Cock, party of one, please!’”

That’s so mean and, well, doesn’t really make any sense, Donna thought at the fish. Does that mean he’s the one providing the cock for another gay man or that he’s a party of one requesting cock? I don’t get it.

“Huh? The fuck are you talking about, Chief Walkswithawobble?” he asked, again with attitude in his voice if not on his features. “The point is, he’s gonna have more men inside him than the locker room at the Rose Bowl. And he’s not going to be a power bottom, either. Look at that little fruit…you know he’s gonna be someone’s wife.”

Just stop it! Donna screamed at him in her mind. You’re just a fish! Who cares what you think anyways? She was on the verge of angry tears, staring daggers at the back of the fish (whom she kept thinking of as Charlie for some reason) while he continued to look upon the children.

Charlie, sensing Donna’s eyes on his back, turned towards her. He came at her fast, nearly hitting the glass, screaming “HEY!”

Donna started at Charlie’s yell. When she regained her composure, the fish, the aquarium, and in fact most of the people, were gone. She closed her eyes and gave her head a little shake, hoping to knock whatever was loose back to normal again, the normal including a talking, racist fish.

She opened them again, but Charlie and the aquarium were still gone. In its place, a doctors’ office waiting room, filled with people staring at her. Angrily. A security guard put his hand around her bicep, lifting her to her feet.

“Ma’am, you have to go. Right now.”

“What’s going on,” she said, eyes moving across all the angry faces. “Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m sorry you feel bad about your weight and all,” the guard said, “but that’s no reason to say horrible things to all these people. You’ll pardon me for saying so, but being overweight and angry doesn’t give you the right to be a racist bitch. If you feel that way, just keep it in your head like everyone else.”

Batgirl Enters a Brave New World

After a great run that did have a touch of controversy, Gail Simone is stepping away from one of my favorite titles, Batgirl. The new team will have big shoes to fill but they seem to be saying all the right things so far. I wrote a column about it at ComicBookHerald.com. That's something I do now. Go there to read other stuff, too.

The 10 Most Expensive Comics

So there's absolutely no surprise what book is No. 1, but there are some issues down the list that definitely raised my eyebrows. If you've got $10M or so, they can all be yours.

Great Movie Nods to their Comic Book Counterparts

If you're like me, you're in bed, nearly naked, and all the way drunk before Noon. Plus, you wet your geek drawers in The Dark Knight Rises when Bane broke Batman's back because HOLY SHIT KNIGHTFALL!!!1! Several other movies have thrown us a bone in that manner, but you may have missed them. Here they are.

14 of the Most Random Pics You'll Ever See

What the entire fuck 14x.

Mind=Blown

32 Books That Will Actually Change Your Life

For a list that claims to present books that can literally change your life and your view on the world around you, there are surprisingly few self-help books (sarcasm). Of the books on this list that I've read, I can, indeed, say it's a good compilation full of tomes that actually can stay with you and change the way you think. Enjoy.

NPR's Top 100 Science Fiction/Fantasy Books

In case you haven't noticed, I'm a big fan of lists, especially ones about things I like. I've posted several lists on this topic in the past, but this is probably the one I most agree with. This is NPR's Top 100 Science Fiction/Fantasy Books. Anything missing?

Ten of the Most Iconic Swords in Fiction

These are 10 of the deadliest, most well-known edged implements of death in fiction, be it literature, movies, cartoons, video games, etc. Is it complete? What say YOU?

A Mother's Love

Another Terrible Minds Flash Fiction Challenge by Chuck Wendig. One thousand words. Here we go.
-------------------

"Wanna hit?"

"No, Mom, I'm good."

"You sure? Good stuff."

"Yes, Mom, I'm sure."

Most 12-year-olds being offered a toke off their mother's joint during breakfast would naturally assume there was no way she was being serious. But that's also assuming one's mother was not only rocking the wake-and-bake, but doing it at the dining room table as well. Thomas knew his mother was serious; she was generous to a fault and that included sharing the kind with her only child.

Jenny, Thomas' mother, wasn't a bad person. She doted on her son, ensuring he had everything he needed to live a happy, healthy life. Whether it was paying for his private schooling, buying him the newest iPhone when it came out (and not making him pay for the phone and the service plan like his friend Tyler's parents did), or burning down the house of the high-school kid who punched him at the mall just because he didn't "like you soulless fucking gingers," her heart was in the right place.

He looked at her, simultaneously eating eggs with one hand while checking his Twitter account on his phone with the other. Thomas knew, objectively, his mom was attractive. After his father died in an unfortunate meth lab explosion, Jenny had had a couple different boyfriends and they had made their way to the small but cozy home the two shared. Two of them he got on well with because they, like he himself, loved comic books, especially Batman. Thomas hadn't liked the most recent man to come a-courtin' the Widow Jenkins. He had shoved Thomas once when he came over drunk, announcing he didn't care much for little orphaned bastards.

The glass eye he was fitted with after Jenny took an ice pick to him looked pretty natural, Thomas had to admit.

The boy was aware his mother wasn't a typical mother in that she didn't feel the need to hide anything. At all. Thomas knew other women Jenny's age did similar things, or worse, but were much more adept at hiding their indiscretions. And it's not as though she was a harsh woman; nothing could be further from the truth. She smiled easily, never swore, and that time she beat the preacher's son mercilessly with an aluminum baseball bat after the young Baptist had spray painted "Cock EATING Whorr!!!" on the side of their house, she immediately called 911 and waited with him until the EMTs arrived. She even bought a massive floral display for his funeral a week later.

It just never bothered Thomas the way other people felt it should bother him. The only time he felt embarrassed regarding his family was after his father's accident. It wasn't that his dad, a man who encouraged the boy's love of online gaming and cried during Little House on the Prairie reruns, was cooking meth. It was the fact he was cooking meth with someone he knew was borderline retarded and was being watched by the police. Doing something illegal wasn't necessarily bad, but doing something stupid was.

The people in the community tut-tutted whenever they saw Thomas and Jenny in public, their assumption being that this poor boy, a straight-A student who was active in sports and the student newspaper, was living a Dickensian existence at home away from prying eyes. Stories of abuse by the endless string of Jenny's lovers (in truth, she had Biblically "known" one man since her husband's death and that was an ill-advised one-nighter occurring about 450 miles away from home) and a life lived humiliated by his family's shameful behavior couldn't be further from the truth. He missed his father terribly and he loved his mother without condition.

In fact, he felt worse for the people too uncomfortable to live their lives honestly and without excuses. So his mother liked to drop acid at church. Who did it hurt? If anything, Jenny running down the aisle topless provided Pastor Daniel a much-needed distraction from thinking of his dead son. Jenny had a penchant for beating abortion protesters with a pipe she kept in her Audi. Again, is there really a victim? Some tormented girl has one less asshole screaming at her and said asshole is taught a very valuable lesson. At worse, it was a push.

"Honey, I'm going to be late picking you up after school," Jenny said, interrupting Thomas' train of thought. "Your aunt wants me to take her shopping this afternoon and she said it's only going to be an hour or so, but you know she's lying."

It was true. Aunt Lydia was a delightful person but suffered from several different forms of mental illness, including a case of OCD that made grocery shopping more painful and uncomfortable than surprise sodomy. Example: she would shake a two-liter bottle of soda, wait a minute, then count the remaining carbonation bubbles. The bottle with the least amount of bubbles was the satisfactory one. Thankfully, Lydia only liked one very specific soda so they didn't have to do this with every single container. The problem lie when the one store at which she liked to shop was out of her brand. Then things became difficult.

"That's OK, Mom," Thomas said, finishing up the last of his sausage. "I wanted to stay a little late anyway. I'm working with Mr. Inkwell on some Photoshop stuff for the newspaper."

"My little future Pulitzer winner!" Jenny exclaimed. "What did I ever do to deserve a perfect boy like you?"

"You held the stork hostage and threatened his wife with a straight razor unless you got the best baby in the bunch," Thomas said. "At least, that's what Dad always told me."

"Oh, your father," she said. Jenny didn't talk about Tony much--it was obvious she still missed him terribly. Thomas quickly changed the subject.

"By the way, I'm probably going to stay home this weekend."

Jenny stopped what she was doing and looked at her son. "I thought you were going paint balling. You've been looking forward to this for a month! What happened?"

Pause.

"Oh, nothing. Just changed my mind."

But Thomas knew his hesitation had betrayed him. Jenny was a pretty smart cookie.

"It's that girl, isn't it? She's going to be there, isn't she?" she asked with a dangerous tone in her voice.

Jenny was referring to Zoe, a girl Thomas had had a crush on for more than a year. Two weeks ago, when Thomas made his intentions known to her via text message, she took a screen shot of it and posted it to her Facebook page, tagging Thomas and nearly their entire class in the post. Normally other-worldly composed regardless of the circumstances, even Thomas had taken this quite badly.

"Yes," Thomas said quietly.

His mom effortlessly scooped up the breakfast dishes, depositing them into the sink with a smile, the smell of kush and her perfume tickling Thomas' nose. She snubbed out the rest of her joint in the ash tray on the table and turned to look at her only child.

"Would you like me to grab my cattle prod and some zip ties before I talk to Zoe?"

"Yes, Mom," Thomas said. "And thanks. I love you, Mom."

"And I love you, too. Now get your backpack so I can get you to school."

50 Unexplainable Stock Photos

So I literally just posted a story about a man with huge clamps on his nipples. It was part of a Buzzfeed piece showing off 50 completely inexplicable stock photos. The above, which I would have LOVED to have written about, shows the truly epic nature of this list. I highly recommend you check it out. For reals.

The Legend That Is Nipple Clamps!

 

Another of Chuck Wendig's Terrible Mind Flash Fiction challenges. This time, we were to visit this page of unexplainable stock photos, pick a random pic, and write a thousand words about it. The pic above is what I got. The words below form the story I wrote.

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If asked, Anthony would say he’s a good man. A good father, a good husband, a good cop. Not a regular churchgoer, but not a C&E Christian, either. He prided himself on his ethics, both at home and at work. He was easy to like and hard to anger.

That being said, even he had his moments.

“Are you fucking kidding me with this shit right now?”

Anthony was standing next to his car in a neighborhood that would need millions in urban renewal money to be considered a “bad” neighborhood. Even gang bangers only came here after dark on a dare. These facts made it even harder to understand why a doughy white guy, wearing tighty-whities with two large carpenter clamps on his nipples, would be here.

The man seemed nonplussed by all the activity around him. In addition to Anthony, two other detectives in street clothes joined five uniformed officers, three police cruisers with bubbles on, at least 20 onlookers, and, oh yeah, the quickly-stiffening corpse of what appeared to be a homeless woman lying on the sidewalk.

“Anyone?” Anthony asked. “Can anyone explain this?”

One of the uniformed cops, a sergeant, stepped forward and was about to speak when Nipple Clamps (Anthony had decided Nipple Clamps was his name, regardless of what his mom and pop may have christened him) began talking.

“I can read the confusion on your face, my good man, and believe me, I empathize with your plight. My true identity is irrelevant so for now, you can call me Nipple Clamps.”

A senior detective with more than 20 years’ experience, Anthony, for the first time he could remember, was at a complete loss.

Nipple Clamps.

“What in the entire fuck are you talking about?” Anthony managed to spit out. “Who are you, why are you here, and why the shit is there a dead woman laying here?”

“I already told you, sir, I am Nipple Clamps, and I am here to solve this mystery.”

Anthony looked around to his brother officers, who looked back at him with the same bewildered expression he knew he himself wore.

“Perhaps I should elucidate further,” Nipple Clamps said. “I am, for lack of a better term, a super hero, a meta, if you will. I was once a normal human being, much like yourself, until I came across these.”

He motioned grandly to the two large red clamps, one attached to each nipple. They appeared to be the type of implements used in woodworking that would hold pieces of glued wood together tightly while drying. And more than just dangling from his nipple, the clamps were actually holding on to the entire man teat, but Anthony understood why the nearly-naked man in front of him went with Nipple Clamps; Teat Clamps would just sound stupid.

“A super hero?” Anthony said, sarcasm fighting with incredulity in his voice.

“Yes, good sir!” Nipple Clamps said brightly. Anthony felt like, in Clamps’ mind right now, he had a cleft chin as his wide smile sparkled with a gleam like Superman’s. “I was a babe in the woods, so to speak, lost without any path. But one day, in a mystical castle, I found the Nipple Clamps of All-Encompassing Truth, Strength, and Tightness!”

One of the uniformed officers leaned in to take a look. “Sticker says they’re from Home Depot.”

“But, citizen, would you not agree that Home Depot is a magical place?”

The men in attendance looked around at each other and began nodding their heads and muttering, conceding the point that Home Depot is, in fact, pretty awesome.

“So alright, Mr., er, Clamps, what powers do you have and why are you here with a dead women lying at your feet?” Anthony said, still obviously unconvinced of the power of the Nipple Clamps of All-Whatnot and Et Cetera.

“I have the power of focus, good constable,” Nipple Clamps said, still talking as though he was wearing a cape and talking to a group of awe-struck toddlers. “I have the power of knowing when danger is near, allowing me to arrive on the scene and mete out justice!”

“Got here a little late this time, wouldn’t you say?”

“Not at all!” Clamps declared. “I arrived in time to see her murdered…”

He looked at the assembled law men dramatically.

“…by one of YOU!”

Nipple Clamps looked around at each of the officers with a smug, knowing look of triumph on his face. He did this for nearly a minute until it became obvious he wasn’t getting the reaction he was looking for.

“So, the thin blue line is in effect, eh?” Clamps said, stroking his chin. “No matter. You are men of the law. When I tell you who did this dastardly deed, you will have no recourse but to do your duty and place your brother in arms under arrest.”

“You mind if I talk to my, uh, fellow ‘brothers in arms’?” Anthony asked.

“Not all all, sir!”

Anthony turned his back to the pale, nearly-naked man with the twin clamps attached to his pecs. They were each trying to maintain a modicum of professionalism in the face of overwhelming absurdity.

“Alright, the guy’s obviously struggling with some issues, but he seems to really believe this, so be careful. He could get violent when we try to bring him in. I mean, there’s no doubt he has a high pain tolerance; those clamps have got to be killing him.”

Anthony turned around as Nipple Clamps began shouting.

“It was you who are the murderer!” Clamps said, pointing to the same policeman who had pointed out the origin of his namesake home repair implements. “I got here as you finished choking her. You were trying to extort money from her. You see, gentleman, this woman is one of the most highly-paid beggars in the city and your badge-wearing friend gets a cut from her and many like her so long as he allows them to panhandle!”

Anthony turned to Officer Thompson, the man in question. Amazingly, Thompson was looking very nervous.

“Eddie, he’s full of shit, right?”

“I didn’t kill her, Anthony, I swear,” Thompson said.

“But the other stuff…”

“Hey, she’s just some homeless broad, right?” Thompson said, looking from cop to cop.

“Jesus,” Anthony mumbled. He turned back to Nipple Clamps.

“Are you willing to make a statement that you witnessed this officer attack and kill this woman,” Anthony asked.

“Nah,” Clamps said. “I’m just fuckin’ with you. I killed her.”

Top Marvel vs. DC Battles

 

What are the top Marvel vs. DC Comics battles we'd like to see? And which of those would be totes DARLING if drawn up to look like kids' toys. Here we go.

32 Best Horror Movie Deaths Ever

 

All lists are subjective as they're based on the opinions of the originator(s) of said lists, but this one's pretty good. It even provides the YouTube videos showing the murder scenes in all their gory glory.

10 Must-Read Modern Sci-Fi Novels

 

When the great novels of sci-fi are mentioned, names like Ray Bradbury, Kurt Vonnegut, et. al., are uttered with reverence and that is as it should be, but as this list points out, there have been great science-fiction books written in the past 30 years or so. Your thoughts?

50 Pics from the Past

 

The assumption is that as we advance through time, the world progresses forward as well. Sometimes that's true, other times not so much. For example, the pic above was taken in Afghanistan in the 1950s. It was pre-Taliban where women were encouraged to earn an education and were able to dress casually. Other pictures, like the ones featured HERE, show just how batshit crazy the world of the past was.

My First Batman

(Photo Credit: DC Wikia)

When I was a lad, there existed a thing called a comic book digest. The most common use of this now (and then for that matter) was Archie Comics. But back in the day, DC Comics would put together five or six issues of random comics, put them in a digest, and sell them cheaply to promote their current titles.

A couple that I remember vividly are a villains origins digest featuring the origins of the Parasite (Superman), Red Dart (Green Arrow), etc. The other, though, was one of my greatest treasures as a child: a Batman digest featuring stories revolving around the five greatest members of his Rogue's Gallery. They were Joker, Penguin, Two-Face, Catwoman, and the Riddler, each story ending with a one-page origin of the villain.

The one story I remember vividly was the Two-Face story and thanks to the internet, I found the issue. It was Batman No. 234, written by Denny O'Neal and pencilled by Neal Adams, two of the faces on my Batman Mt. Rushmore (along with Bill Finger and Bruce Timm, because fuck Bob Kane). A piece of trivia for this issue: it's the Silver Age debut of Two-Face.

Back then, I thought it was gritty and hardcore and now, I'm amazed at how well it has stood the test of time. It's a true testament of just how good the duo of O'Neal/Adams really was.

With the success of the Christopher Nolan Dark Knight trilogy, the upcoming Batman vs. Superman movie, and this being the 75th anniversary of the Caped Crusader, I have found it fun and educational to go back and look at the older issues of Batman and Detective Comics. The first issues of the book hold up reasonably well, while the 50s and 60s are pretty campy. The 70s Batman was where I got my start, so they will always hold a place in my heart and with stories like this one and the legendary Batman No. 251, it's a great example of how quality will truly transcend its time.

Hunter S. Thompson: The 20 Greatest Quotes

I joined the Navy at 17 and attended the Defense Information School (DINFOS) to become a military journalist. For the most part, there are two kinds of those: the uptight, stick-up-their-ass, by-the-book person who tends to gravitate towards TV or leadership within the public affairs ranks or the drunken, barely-in-uniform type who is usually the on-air radio guy or the writer.

I was the latter and as such, worshiped the ground Hunter S. Thompson walked on. HST, a fellow veteran journalist, lived the life that all my fellow drunken Sailor reporters wanted to live. A friend and I used to fax Woody Creek from our ship constantly, pledging our allegiance to him. Alas, we never heard back from him.

While he is no longer with us, he left much knowledge and direction behind. Here are his 20 greatest quotes, according to GoodReads.

Need a Boost?

Having a lousy day? Then you need to watch Calvin & Hobbes dance. For reals.

Top 50 Cult Movies Ever

I'm pretty proud of myself for having seen most of the movies on this list and I can't find any reason to disagree with the author.

Why Comic Books are Important

 

While I wasn't physically abused as a child, I immediately identified with this comic strip. Comics were the first thing I read voraciously when I was young and I still read them now at 40. They helped with my intellectual and emotional growth during my formative years and it was for the reasons described here.

25 Books That Define Cool

 

Writing, and by association reading, has always been cool. The coolest are those who are well-read and intelligent. This list is allegedly the coolest of the cool. That can also be translated into "Books for hipster douchebags" but even before some of the books on this list became cliched, they were/are still pretty cool.

Two-Sentence Horror Stories

Talent in writing comes from those blessed with brevity. Getting your point across in the fewest possible words is a gift. That's why I'm so impressed with this page of horror stories, each only two sentences long, but truly terrifying. Enjoy.

What if Voldemort had won?

Mugshots of our favorite Hogwarts students had Harry and Dumbledore's Army failed to vanquish You-Know-Who.

50 Scariest Horror Novels of All Time

 

I love me some horror novels & the ones on this list are pretty strong. Each author is only allowed one book on the list (and you can see the Stephen King entry, which has my seal of approval). Obviously, all lists are subjective but even if you don't agree, you'll probably get some good recommendations.

Today's Lesson: Don't Pick on the Fat Girl

 

Found this story whilst StumblingUpon and thought it was creepy, intense, and beautiful all at once. The next time you decide to partake in a little fat shaming, you might want to keep this in mind.

2014: The Year of the Batman

This year is the 75th anniversary of Detective Comics No. 27, aka the first-ever appearance of one Batman. In fact, next week, the very well-timed Detective Comics No. 27 (New 52 edition) will provide a re-telling of the Batman origin. For the full rundown of everything Batfans can expect in 2014, click HERE.

In Too Deep: The Finale

A couple weeks ago, I took part in a Chuck Wendig Flash Fiction Challenge where, every week, a different writer would contribute 200 words to a 1,000-word story. The piece I added to, In Too Deep, was completed by Jim Franklin, the man who kicked it off. Overall, it's a pretty sweet piece of writing. If you want to take a look at the finished product, click HERE.