Specialization is for Insects.

"A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects."

So I was searching for some epigraph quotes for my new novel. I’ve decided on a Cure song - which is something I’ve done in all of my novels. The Cure is my favorite band, besides the Police; but The Cure is especially conducive to my creative process. I always listen to The Cure when I’m writing… it’s part of my whole process and I feel it necessary to pay tribute to Robert Smith whenever I can.

But I digress…

My protagonist, Sully, is an expert outdoorsman with a degree in English Literature and he tends to throw out a quote here and there during the course of the novel as appropriate. At one point, when commenting on the nature of man, he quotes someone who I consider to be one of the greatest minds humanity has ever produced.

I’m talking about Robert A. Heinlein.

Someday – when our society is sufficiently evolved and the narrow-minded, stupid, sexually repressed bigots have been either bred out of our genes or unceremoniously taken behind the house and summarily executed… the world will recognize Heinlein for his prophetic genius.

No other modern writer has so brilliantly or so sensibly explained the human condition ever. Which leads me to today’s post… it’s a series of some of the best of Heinlein’s quotes and quotes that lead me down the path I’ve taken with my life.

This is a tribute to the man’s singular genius…


Everything I’ve Ever Needed to Know, I’ve Learned from Robert A. Heinlein

On Writing…

"There is no way that writers can be tamed and rendered civilized or even cured. The only solution known to science is to provide the patient with an isolation room, where he can endure the acute stages in private and where food can be poked in to him with a stick."

"Writing is not necessarily something to be ashamed of, but do it in private and wash your hands afterwards."

"A "critic" is a man who creates nothing and thereby feels qualified to judge the work of creative men. There is logic in this; he is unbiased — he hates all creative people equally."

"A poet who reads his verse in public may have other nasty habits."

"If you happen to be one of the fretful minority who can do creative work, never force an idea; you'll abort it if you do. Be patient and you'll give birth to it when the time is ripe. Learn to wait."

Dealing with others…

"You have attributed conditions to villainy that simply result from stupidity."

"An armed society is a polite society."

"The capacity of the human mind for swallowing nonsense and spewing it forth in violent and repressive action has never yet been plumbed."

"TANSTAAFL. (There Ain't No Such Thing As A Free Lunch)"

Approach to life…

"Everything in excess! To enjoy the flavor of life, take big bites. Moderation is for monks."

"Get a shot off fast. This upsets him long enough to let you make your second shot perfect."

"If tempted by something that feels "altruistic," examine your motives and root out that self-deception. Then, if you still want to do it, wallow in it!"

"It may be better to be a live jackal than a dead lion, but it is better still to be a live lion. And usually easier."

"Never appeal to a man's "better nature." He may not have one. Invoking his self-interest gives you more leverage."

"Never underestimate the power of human stupidity."

"Place your clothes and weapons where you can find them in the dark."

"There is no such thing as "social gambling." Either you are there to cut the other bloke's heart out and eat it — or you're a sucker. If you don't like this choice — don't gamble."

"When the need arises — and it does — you must be able to shoot your own dog. Don't farm it out — that doesn't make it nicer, it makes it worse."

"Geniuses and supergeniuses always make their own rules on sex as on everything else; they do not accept the monkey customs of their lessers."

"There is nothing wrong with being scared... as long as you don't let it affect you until the danger is over. Being hysterical is okay, too... afterwards and in private. Tears are not unmanly... in the bathroom with the door locked. The difference between a coward and a brave man is mostly a matter of timing."

Dealing with the fairer sex…

"If the universe has any purpose more important than topping a woman you love and making a baby with her hearty help, I've never heard of it."

"Men are more sentimental than women. It blurs their thinking."

"Rub her feet."

"What a wonderful world it is that has girls in it!"

Sex and Morality…

"Darling, a true lady takes off her dignity with her clothes and does her whorish best. At other times you can be as modest and dignified as your persona requires."

"Of all the strange "crimes" that human beings have legislated out of nothing, "blasphemy"is the most amazing — with "obscenity" and "indecent exposure" fighting it out for second and third place."

"Sin lies only in hurting others unnecessarily. All other "sins" are invented nonsense."

God…

"History does not record anywhere at any time a religion that has any rational basis. Religion is a crutch for people not strong enough to stand up to the unknown without help. But, like dandruff, most people do have a religion and spend time and money on it and seem to derive considerable pleasure from fiddling with it."

"One man's theology is another man's belly laugh."

"A religion is sometime a source of happiness, and I would not deprive anyone of happiness. But it is a comfort appropriate for the weak, not for the strong. The great trouble with religion - any religion - is that a religionist, having accepted certain propositions by faith, cannot thereafter judge those propositions by evidence. One may bask at the warm fire of faith or choose to live in the bleak certainty of reason- but one cannot have both."

Science, Logic, and Reason…

"Anyone who cannot cope with mathematics is not fully human. At best he is a tolerable subhuman who has learned to wear shoes, bathe, and not make messes in the house."

"Delusions are often functional. A mother's opinions about her children's beauty, intelligence, goodness, et cetera ad nauseam, keep her from drowning them at birth."

"If it can't be expressed in figures, it is not science; it is opinion. It has long been known that one horse can run faster than another — but which one? Differences are crucial."

Dealing with the stupid…

"Stupidity cannot be cured with money, or through education, or by legislation. Stupidity is not a sin, the victim can't help being stupid. But stupidity is the only universal capital crime; the sentence is death, there is no appeal, and execution is carried out automatically and without pity."

On Freedom and Governments…

"A society that gets rid of all its troublemakers goes downhill."

"Democracy is based on the assumption that a million men are wiser than one man. How's that again? I missed something.Autocracy is based on the assumption that one man is wiser than a million men. Let's play that over again, too. Who decides?"

"Does history record any case in which the majority was right?"

"When a place gets crowded enough to require ID's, social collapse is not far away. It is time to go elsewhere."

Do you Grokk, water friend?

Adventures in Northeastern Ohio

I'm often amazed by the diversity of Northeastern Ohio. The diversity... and the wierdness.

Take for instance the area to the immediate east of where I live here in Willoughby. Several thousand years ago, the glaciers that covered much of North America stopped roughly a half mile to several miles (depending on where you are) from the shore of Lake Erie. Besides gouging out the massive crater that would eventually fill with water and become the shallowest of the Great Lakes, it left a unique geographic feature on the face of the greater Cleveland area. Where the glaciers stopped, the land swells upward to a higher plain.

This hill transverses Cleveland and the eastern part of the state and is uniformly gouged by the weight of the massive sheets of glacial ice.

This story, however, is not about that. In a round about way, it is though. But I just thought I'd throw in a little geography because I'm a dork.

Anyway, rising onto the higher plain, if you travel eastward, the land rolls with gentle hills and farmland until you reach the Alleghany Mountains some 100 - 150 miles away.

This story is about the farmland east of Cleveland.... and the oddities of humanity that live there.

Anyway... I grew up on the east side of Cleveland and this part of Ohio has a long, storied history of settlement. In fact, Cleveland, and the area to the east of Cleveland where actually not part of Ohio. We were actually, back in the 1700's, part of Connecticut. Yes. Cleveland, and the entire Northeastern part of Ohio where once the Connecticut Western Reserve. That being said, we've seen many a pilgrim and traveler come here in the last 300 or more years.

Besides the Adena, Iroquois, Mohawk, Seneca, and Hopewell indians who once lived and killed each other in savage revelvry and glory... we've had all kinds of non-native settlers who came and... well, killed the indians in savage revelry and glory.

Some of the settlers who've came here have included Joseph Smith and the Mormons after they were run out of New York. Kirtland, which is two miles from my house, still has a thriving LDS community and you can see the house where Joseph Smith lived and took his second wife of many future wives. We also have the occasional FLDS sect, and had some sensational murders a few years back... but I've written about that before.

If you go further east than Kirtland, you start to run into Middlefield, Burton, Chardon, Rock Creek, Orwell, and other communities where people have last names like Yoder and Schnieder. I've always taken for granted the occasional Amish horse and buggy at the Chardon Walmart. OR the sight of Amish children playing in the fields of large farms with white barns and windows with only one curtain pulled to the side.

It's not uncommon to see big Ford E3500 12 passenger vans roll up to the local grocery store or construction site. Disgorging their load of plainly dressed women in bonnets, or men with Abraham Lincoln beards, corded arms, and blue wool shirts; the vans (or Amish taxis, as we call them) drops them off to spend tons of money on commercial, modern sundries - - or build houses in even the poshest and most modern of suburban neighborhoods. Apparently a shunning of modern extravagances only goes so far with today's Amish. This is not your typical Harrison Ford in Witness sort of world anymore!

In fact, you may not know it, but all Amish teens reach an age of adulthood where they are allowed to actually not be Amish.The Amish call it Rumspringa and, for a certain time period, young Amish are allowed to live as Yankees and decide whether they want to actually join the Amish church and lifestyle. It's not uncommon to go into a bar around closing time in Geauga County and find some young, hopelessly drunk Amish men and women pounding Budweiser and singing country music karaoke. I actually have a friend who married an Amish women who decided during her Rumspringa that she couldn't go back to the farm. He now lives with her in Cleveland Heights where they host swinger parties.

But - - and I apologize for my long-windedness - - this story is, sadly, not about the Amish either. But, it's amongst this backdrop of quiet, religious anachronism and conservatism that my story does begin. Imagine this bucolic place that is Northeastern Ohio where the early Mormon Church was founded and is home to Quakers and Amish. The more modern denizens of this geographic area are conservative and, quite truly, solely the reason why Ohio is considered a Republican state - - despite the strongly liberal and Democratic strongholds of Ohio, Toledo, Youngstown, and Columbus.

It is with this understanding of a place where one could just as easily find an Amish buggy hitched up at the Sparkle grocery store next to a Big Ford with gunracks and a 'Redneck' sticker on the windshield and a NRA placard on the rear; that I find it necessary to talk about a gas station that can be found in the vicinity of State route 534 and State Route 422.

Imagine my surprise when I walked into the convenience store/gas station there to pay for some gas and pick up a Vanilla coke and some Beef Jerky. I was on the way back from my parent's trailer at their campground (another oddity of living in Cleveland - most people here have a separate trailer out east somewhere to spend their summer weekends at). Anyway, I walk into this really nice gas station in the middle of nowhere... and walked straight into one of the most surreal experiences in my life.

The place was packed, being the only major source of food and other various sundries for miles around.

As I said, it had a convenience store, a gas station, an attached video store, and a service garage. As I also said, it was really nice considering its relatively remote location. So imagine my surprise when I enter the store and see that every shelf, every cooler, every counter, and even the ATM has a small riser in front of it.

This convenience store/video store/gas station/garage, in the middle of Amish country, in the heart of rural Ohio, is run entirely by a family of midgets.

That's right. I said midgets.

It was like I'd suddenly stepped out of Northeastern Ohio and found myself in some forgotten corner of the Shire. Behind the counter, a hobbit was counting change for some redneck in a Harley Davidson t-shirt and cutoff jeans. There was a pretty looking halfling who was using a long claw like apparatus to stock the shelves with PopTarts and Heinz Ketchup.

I glanced with confusion through a door into the garage to see Frodo Baggins and Sam Gamgee struggling to remove a transimission from a car sitting atop the world's smallest garage lift. Several midget children ran past my legs, gamboling and laughing as they ran into the video store.

I gasped and fought the stange anomie that insisted I had somehow gone afoul of my normal life and had stumbled into some elfen kingdom where the Hostess Twinkees were buy one, get one free.

I don't know why the idea of midgets carving a life for themselves out of the farming community I found myself in so disturbing; I only know that I paid The Mayor of Munchkinland for my gas and totally forgot to get my Vanilla Coke and Beef Jerky. I staggered back to my Jeep, shaken and disturbed for some unknown reason.

I drove away, fleeing like Gulliver from Lilliput.

Movie Review – Day of the Dead (2008)

Hoping to build on the success of Zack Snyder’s excellent 2004 remake of Romero’s Dawn of the Dead, we have a revisioning of Romero’s sub-par Day of the Dead. Sub-par is a good word to use here. Whereas Romero’s third zombie outing was not as brilliant as Dawn of the Dead, Day was still a Romero film and – at the end of the day – was a fucking awesome zombie film. Day of the Dead 2008, on the other hand, was a big, stinking pile of shit when compared to Snyder’s Dawn of the Dead. What’s more, it is almost a sacrilege when held up to Romero’s Holy Zombie Trinity.

Strong words? Yes. Unfair? I think not.

The plot is straightforward… the movie opens with some teens making out in an abandoned Nike missile site in the mountains of Colorado. This is standard fare for most horror films. When one of the horny teens gets a nose-bleed, we get some heavy handed foreshadowing. The generic, pretty teens leave the make out spot, two of them argue, and the girl decides to walk home. She is, of course, attacked in the woods. Meanwhile, back in town, the army has quarantined everything for a “training drill”. Of course, everybody in town is affected by some sort of strange flu-like virus. The military cordone is run by Captain Rhodes (as played by Ving Rhames) and he’s assisted by Corporal Sarah Bowman (played by Mena Suvari). Her sidekicks are two other enlisted guys (Nick Cannon as Salazar and Stark Sands – who plays “Bud”, an allusion to “Bub” from the original). Things go downhill quickly as it becomes apparent that the infection is some strange virus that turns people into zombies. The characters run around town blah blah blah they fight some zombies blah blah blah they go to the gun store blah blah blah they end up back at the missile silo and discover the government and a douchebag named Dr. Logan is to blame for the outbreak blahhditty blah-fucking blah ….

This movie was bad on so many levels I’m actually at a loss as to where to start bitching here.

Let’s start with the obvious… the zombies. Apparently, the virus is airborne and some people are just immune. Once you get sick, it takes a couple hours to settle in. Then, you get a nosebleed, become catatonic for a few seconds where you apparently die, and come back as a zombie. And here’s where this movie gets ridiculous. The instant you die, the virus makes your skin peel off and get all yucky. Then – and it’s never explained except in that it probably seemed cool to the hacks who filmed it at the time – the zombies can now jump, vertically, 25 feet in the air. They’re also super strong and can also run across walls and ceilings like Spiderman. Which, is cool. Wait, did I say that was cool? My bad, I meant to say it was fucking retarded.

The zombies also retain memories of their life before they died. And that brings us to the crux of why I dreaded watching this. I’d heard rumors about the Bud zombie from people who’d seen advanced screenings and the thought made me cringe, but I soldiered on (mainly because I scored a free rental at my Hollywood video. Boy would I have been homicidal if I’d paid money for this crap-tastic travesty!). Anyway, Private Bud got a thing for Sarah. He’s also a pacifist and a vegetarian. So, when he’s bit and turned into a zombie, he helps the characters and doesn’t chomp any of them because he’s got a boyish crush on Mena Suvari and obviously can’t stomach long pork because –you know – “meat’s murder, maaan!”

That's right, horror fans. A zombie that doesn't eat human flesh... because he's a vegetarian. Vegetarian zombies? So what, instead of stumbling around moaning, "BRAIIINNS!!!", they instead insist on "GRAAAIINNS!!!"????

I’m stunned at the awfulness.

What else was wrong? The dialogue was cheesy and stilted, the story was weak, and the plot had holes bigger than the one between Paris Hilton’s legs. Nick Cannon’s character Salazar was a walking caricature of every faceless, cocky, brash, black character you see in the bazillions of low budget movies out there. Ving Rhames was in the movie just long enough to get a paycheck so he could finance his next cycle of steroids and Mena Suvari sleptwalk through her role.

Essentially, this was a by the numbers horror flick by people who aren’t fans of the genre, It has the feel of a movie made by writers, directors, and producers whose normal cinematic contributions are by the numbers, stereotypically stupid teen comedies.

The good? There was little to be found in here that was good. The effects were all right, when they used real effects. I qualify that because they felt it was necessary to make the zombies act like those stupid herky, jerky ghosts you see in the countless PG-13 remakes of Japanese horror films that the horror genre’s been flooded with lately. And they overdid it with the digital blood. Attention all horror film makers. We can tell when it’s digitally created blood! It looks fake! If you can justify spending $12 Million on a movie that Uwe Boll would think is good, spend the extra hundred bucks to pick up a few cases of Karo Syrup and food dye. It looks better, morons! I’m just saying…

It did have zombies, and the chaos when the infection took hold was well filmed. I especially love that they went with running zombies. That, I think, was Zack Snyder’s best contribution to the genre. Running zombies that never get tired and don’t feel tired are scary as hell. In this film, they made it visceral and scary went they weren’t shitting things up with a need to “explain” why the zombies are.

And that’s sort of the crux, I think. That’s what separates a good zombie film from a bad zombie film. I don’t care what causes the dead to come back from life, and you don’t need to have the main characters somehow “stumble” upon the why’s and wherefore’s. I DON’T CARE! What happens in low budget films is that the producers and studio people get wrapped up in the writing process and have to spoon-feed the audience with some idiotic dues ex machine explanation because they’re under the delusion that horror fans need explanations. We don’t – so don’t do it!

A perfect example of how not to be assholes here is to look at Snyder’s Dawn of the Dead (and comparisons are inevitable here. The Dawn and Day remakes were on polar opposite ends of the good/bad spectrum). Snyder was a fan. You could tell he was. He didn’t explain why the world was going to hell in a flesh chomping hand-basket. He could then spend time concentrating on important shit - - like character development and plot. But, unfortunately, we didn’t get Zack Snyder this time around. Instead we got a writer who has the distinction of having written the sequels to the suckfest’s that were the Final Destination movies; and a director who’s biggest credits include the shitty teen soap operas, Felicity and Smallville.

And that’s what’s wrong with horror films today. It’s looked down upon by mainstream directors and writers. So we’re stuck with the likes of Uwe Boll and the hacks that put this film together. It’s funny really; because when big name directors and writers commit to horror films, they tend to be good. It’s sad...

So – what’s the final verdict on Day of the Dead 2008? Take a pass. Watch it when it comes to cable, or if you get a free rental. Don’t spend money on it, because I guarantee you that it will most likely be money wasted - and an hour and a half of your life you won’t get back. It pains Doctor Zombie to say this, dear reader, but this was just a bad zombie film and it was redeemable only in that they had some good gore. That though, was about it. I give it 2 out of 5 chomped brains only because it did have gore, and it did have zombies.

Doctor Zombie’s Rating: 2 out of 5 Chomped Brains

Working Stiffs - Some Zombie Flash Fiction

Note: I've been writing some flash fiction lately because it's a great creative exercise. I like the idea of limiting myself to 750 words. I like the discipline and focus involved in taking an idea and distilling it down to the bare bones, while still balancing the need to tell a story and make it good.

That being said, I wrote this one a few days ago and - truthfully - I don't have the heart to cut anymore out of it. It clocks in at about 1,350 words and is one of the best pieces I've written in a while. Although it was started as a piece of flash fiction - - I think that it's also important to realize that, sometimes, there should be no parameters on good storytelling...

It's the story about to working guys in the middle of a job when the zombie apocalypse starts.

Let me know what you think...

Working Stiffs

“You know what you’re problem is?” I said to Johnny as I slipped on my long rubber rain coat.

“No,” he snapped, “but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

Johnny cleared off the kitchen table and placed his bag on the chair at the tables head. I finished buttoning my coat and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. With a grunt, I helped him manhandle Erik onto the table.

“Your problem,” I said, once Erik was laying between us, “is that you take things too fucking seriously.”

”Is that so?”

“It is. Take tonight for example. Here it was a simple job, in and out, and you have to make it all serious.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Trevor?” Johnny said, as he opened his tool bag and pulled out a meat cleaver. He tested its edge with his thumb and nodded, seemingly satisfied with its sharpness.

“What I’m saying Johnny, is that we had a very simple job. We were to pop into Erik’s place tonight, wait for old Erik to wander in the door, and collect the money he owes Fat Charlie.”

I slapped Erik’s bare chest with a gloved hand for emphasis and went on, “You then have to make it all complicated because you’re worried about all kinds of crazy shit that doesn’t mean a thing in the real world.”

Johnny set down his cleaver next to Erik on the table and grabbed a filleting knife. He pointed it at me and a gestured with it as he retorted,” Just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean there isn’t a vast global conspiracy.”

“See!” I said, reaching into my own bag and grabbing a machete and a small mallet, “That’s the shit I’m talking about! Your crazy, ‘the-whole-world’s- run-by-a-bunch-of-men-in-a-secret-location-in-Switzerland’ schtick! There’s not some ultra-secret canal that runs everything, man!”

“It’s cabal, moron. Not canal. And the Illuminati aren’t sequestered away in Switzerland. They’re spread all over the world and they run all the major corporations. They just meet once a year in Switzerland for Swiss hookers and Austrian chocolate. ”

I rolled my eyes and walked around to the other side of the table, dragging Erik’s kitchen garbage can as I went. Johnny took his fillet knife and thrust it into Erik’s abdomen near the bottom of his rib cage. With an authoritative jerk, Johnny sliced downward and opened up Erick from his chest to his pubis. I scrambled to get the bucket closer as Erik’s guts slid out of him like slimy, hot ropes. I only managed to grab half of them before the rest hit the floor with a wet splat. I wasn’t fast enough and their weight pulling another large portion of his innards out of the garbage can with them. Gravity’s a bitch, sometimes.

“Jeezy Creezy, Johnny! Give me some fucking warning next time,” I said as I scrambled to put Erik’s kidneys, liver and guts into the bucket.

“Sorry.” Johnny said as I juggled Erik’s stomach into the bin. It was full of liquor and it was like trying to carry a water balloon coated in KY jelly. I didn’t believe he was sorry for one minute.

Through the open window, we heard some screams and the sound of sirens. Johnny and I both froze, and looked in the direction of the window. When the sirens grew quieter, we resumed work. While I got the rest of the guts squared away, Johnny grabbed his cleaver and hacked off Erik’s hand at the wrist.

“So, like I was saying,” I went on, “Erik comes home, I tell him we need the money, and you make things difficult by having to keep watching the news while I’m trying to work. I mean, we’ve got a thing going, you and I. I play the nice guy who acts like their friend while you stand there all muscles and barely contained rage. It’s like Good Cop/Bad Cop, Johnny. Except for the part where we’re not cops and we’re leg breakers for a mob bookie. But no, you’ve got to go off script. You’ve got to get all wrapped up in the cable news networks and I’ve got to be like Abbot without Costello. I’m just saying you’re too damn serious.”

“So, since I wasn’t Bad Cop, you had to shoot him?” Johnny said as he glanced at the window again. There was more screaming in the distance, and more sirens. None of them were in our immediate vicinity though.

“We’re not talking about that unfortunate set of circumstances, right now. Don’t change the subject!” I said as I snatched up my knife and reached up and under Erik’s rib cage slicing his heart and lungs free. I threw the lungs in the bin and I gestured at Johnny with Erik’s heart, “I don’t give a shit that they’re saying there’re some rabies breakouts happening. All I care about is getting the job done. It’s just goddamned unprofessional, Johnny.”

“It’s not rabies,” Johnny said angrily. To emphasis his point he swung the cleaver and angrily lopped off Erik’s right foot at the ankle. He tossed it in the garbage can, rather rudely spraying me with blood, “My conspiracy websites say that there’s more to this outbreak. That it has something to do with a virus or something. It’s been covered up by the world government, but there’s been disturbing reports about it.”

“Oh, really? Let me guess, Bigfoot’s involved somehow. Or the alien overlords have concocted something to make all of us Earthmen sterile so they’ll be able to mate with all of our women?

“Now you’re just being spiteful, Trevor.”

“Well, Christ in a casket, Johnny! What do you expect?” I said as I grabbed Erik’s other arm and my machete, “I mean I get that you like to watch the news, and I get that you’re into all of these nut job conspiracies, and it’s cool because old Erik here wasn’t home yet; but when the deadbeat gets back, you’ve got to get your head in the game! I mean…”

I trailed off and looked out the window again. There were more screams and the smell of smoke wafted through the open window. In the distance, there was the pop-pop of gunfire.

“What the hell?” I said, “I hear 9mm and rifle fire.”

“More like .40 caliber and .223,” Johnny grunted as he cut Erik’s left arm off at the elbow. He leaned over Erik to throw it in the garbage bin when I felt a strange twitch in my hand.

I looked down to see Erik’s right arm twitch again and I yelled in shock, dropping it.

“What?” Johnny said, just as Erik opened his eyes and sat up.

“Johnny!” I screamed, stepping back and struggling to get my rubber coat open to get at my gun. Johnny tried to escape, but it was no use. Erik’s right arm, which was still whole, grabbed Johnny and pulled him close. Erik snarled and, before Johnny could pull free, he lunged and bit Johnny on the side of the neck.

Johnny made a half scream, half gurgling noise and I finally got my coat open. I pulled my .357 out of my shoulder holster just as Johnny gave Erik a mighty shove and he pulled free, falling to the dining room floor. There was a bright arc of red as Johnny fell and I realized that Erik must have clamped down and tore out Johnny’s carotid artery.

I stood motionless as Johnny gurgled a few more times and the arterial blood sprayed like a fire hose on the wall beside him. He was dead within seconds.

Erik snarled again and I turned to the corpse as it turned in very un-corpse-like fashion towards me, reaching hungrily with one full arm and another severed at the elbow. Erik tried to step off of the table, but since he was short a foot, he fell to the floor.

“What the…?” I said, just as Johnny twitched a few times and turned eyes as dead as Erik’s on me. He began to rise to his feet. Closer to me, Erik was pulling himself along the floor towards me.

I screamed again and bolted from the apartment and into the chaos of the night.

Maybe there was something to Johnny’s conspiracy theories after all….

It's All Wolf Girl's Fault

Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick! Have I had a morning...

It is mornings like this that convince me that my willful refusal to believe in a higher power, and yet continue to blashpheme in said non-entity's name as I did in my opening sentence,have come around to give me a big karmic bite in my undead ass.

Let me tell you how my morning started...

So - - I send Zombie Boy and WolfGirl out to the bus stop for school at 8:30. I'm working from home today, so I am looking forward to a few hours of uninterrupted writing. Working from home is nice like that - I don't have a million people coming up to my desk with problems that in their world are huge, but in my world are as annoying as the buzz of mosquitos in a Florida swamp. In other words - it's nothing more than an ever present drone and whine that jangles at your subconscious with the insidious promise of sucking the very blood and life from you. (There's a deeper, better metaphor in their - - but I really don't have the energy to look for it. Suffice it to say, they suck. )

Anyway - I glance out the door to see Wolf Girl come running back down the street from the bus stop. But she's not really running so much as hopping on one foot.

"What happened?" I yell to her from the front porch, "and why are you hopping down the street with all the grace of a blind epileptic having a heart attack!?!"

"Daddy!" she says as she hops across the street, "The boys and I were seeing who could kick higher and my shoe is on Anya's roof."

"Are you kidding me?" I groan, as I step from the porch and look to the corner house. Sure enough, sticking out of the highest gutter on our neighbor's house, is a blue and white converse low top.

"Shit." I mutter.

So after securing an alternate pair of shoes for Wolf Girl, we walk back down to the bus stop. As we go, I notice she's still hopping.

"Why are you still hopping? You have two shoes now." I say to her.

"It was so fun the first time, I think I'm going to do this the rest of the day,"she replies with the level of certainty that only an 8 year old can muster.

So I knock on our neighbor Anya's house. Anya by the way, is a 20 year old Cuban mom of two who barely speaks a word of English. She comes to the door, half asleep and looking every bit as hot as a twenty year old Cuban woman can look - especially in her underwear.

So, as I stand on her porch, trying to explain to her that I need to get a ladder and get my daughter's shoes out opf her gutter, I try to ignore the fact that she's half naked. My telling her what's going on is hindered also by the fact that I am fluent in English and American Sign Language, with a passable knowledge of Italian, French, and Japanese.

You'll note there is no Spanish in there.

My Spanish is limited to how to order beer and Tequila("Cerveza, Dos Equis, Negro Modela, e Los Mujeres Tequila - por favor!") ask where is the bathroom (“Donde es banos, senor? Muy mas cerveza!”) and a few key phrases to ensure I get the most value for my pesos when negotiating for guns - or perhaps a Tijuana whore. Nowhere in my repertoire is, "Hey gorgeous Cubana neighbor, standing there in your underwear... I need to bang a ladder on the side of your house, scurry up it like a second story man, and retrieve my kid's Chuck Taylor from your gutter."

So I finally get her to understand what's going on, she goes back in, and I step off her porch. All the kids are standing there - still waiting for the bus - when I hear one of the other kids say, "Wolf Girl, your Dad looks like he’s really mad at you."

"He's not mad," Zombie Boy replies, "His face always looks like that. Our mom says he's part ogre... just like Shrek, only not so green and a whole lot stinkier when he farts."

Fortunately the bus pulls up at that point - so I'm not forced to kill all of the children. I do note with some resignation that Wolf Girl hops on only one foot up to the bus, up the steps, and down the aisle of the bus – her brown hair bouncing as she merrily goes on with her newfound means of travel.

So - I walk back across the street, go to my garage, get my ladder, go back across the street, get the shoe, and head back across the street. As I was doing all of this, I realized that my two idiot dogs had let themselves out into the back yard. Apparently, all of the mornings excitement had worked the two of them into a frothing frenzy. So – the whole time I’m dealing with Wolf Girl's shoe issue - the Dogs of the Living Dead have been barking their idiot, walnut-sized brains out.

Suddenly I realize that there’s only one dog in the back yard.

“Awww noooo!” I groan.

You see - my beagle is an escape artist. To give you a little history - the beagle’s name is Charlie. His full name is Charles Parnell and he’s named after one of the heroes of the 1916 Easter Uprising in Ireland; as well as the Charles Parnell Pub on Cedar Road in Cleveland Heights – a pub I spent a considerable amount of my youth in, drinking lots of Guinness. He’s also known around the house, alternatively and interchangeably, as Fat Charlie, Stupid Charlie, Lunchbox, Fatty, Tons of Fun, Tubby Tubby Two By Four, Fatty Boom Batty, Tub O’Lard, and Moron Number One. (Our other dog, Nicky Nootch, is – of course – Moron Number Two.)

Anyway, I throw down my ladder as I realize that, despite the natural dog impediment of having no opposable thumbs, Fat Charlie has managed to somehow slip past my supposedly foolproof and impenetrable anti-beagle escape system.

And there was only one place he could be.

To make a long story short – a week and a half ago, our other neighbor’s dog had caught and killed a rabbit. In deference to Wolf Girl’s and the neighbor girls’ sensibilities as they pertain to mauled fluffy bunny rabbits, I had surreptitiously gathered up the rabbit’s corpse and thrown it, still warm, onto the compost pile we have in the back corner of the yard. I covered it with some leaves with the intention of taking it out with the trash a few days later. Honestly, I’d forgotten about it until a day or so ago when, as I sat at my kitchen table, I looked out the window and saw a turkey vulture land in the back yard. It nosed about for the carrion, but couldn’t find it. I suppose I should have gotten rid of the rabbit at that point, but it was drawing vultures to the back yard and that was cool. I mean – seriously – it was a fucking buzzard, in my back yard!

All of this came back to me as I ran around the garage and saw, with horror, that Fat Charlie - Stupid Charlie - was rolling on top of the compost pile like a pig in shit. He saw me and sat up, his tongue lolling and his jowls pulled back in an almost human-like grin.

“Look at the fabulous smell I’ve found, Daddy,” his grin seemed to say.

“Get out of there, you fat, furry moron!” I yelled as I grabbed him by his collar and dragged him to the front of the yard.

He actually had the balls to look surprised.

So now – I’m sitting here typing this with a sore back because I had to lift his fat ass into the bathtub. He’s sitting on the back porch and giving me glares every time I walk by the back of the house. His reproachful glare seems to say, “I found the most wondrous cologne, and you washed it off of me! What’s wrong with you?!? Bad Daddy!”

“Too goddamned bad, you moron,” I told him the last time I went out to check on him.

Worst of all, the whole damn house smells like wet dog. I did find some small measure of satisfaction in the fact that his fur is all puffy and fluffed up, though. It’s like that because I thought it only fair that I use Wolf Girls fruity-smelling Fructis 2 in 1 Shampoo and Conditioner on his stinky pelt. She started this all in the first place with her kicking contest. The only problem is that it makes the beagle look like he’s put on 20 pounds on his all ready overweight frame.

In fact, his glares are so funny, I took a couple pictures of him where he sits, wet and angry on the back porch. Check them out.

(And I know that some of you would rather I post pictures of the hot Cuban Chick from down the street, in her underwear. Too bad – this isn’t one of those kinds of websites. Instead, you get reproachful dogs. Deal with it…)






The worst part is – this all happened in the space of a half hour! Seriously – I’m not working from home anymore. It’s too fucking stressful!

P.S. - Uwe Boll Must Die!

I’ve got some assorted stuff that I’ve been hanging onto for a little while and have been just too lazy to post. For my part, I’m leaving tomorrow to go to my hunting property in another attempt at killing me some turkey. I’m really, really looking forward to the break from work and life. Things have been kind of crazy with my job as of late and, although it’s good crazy, it’s been wearying nonetheless. And I’m sure Mrs. Zombie will be glad to send me off to the woods for a couple days to drink and camp and just decompress because, quite honestly, the stress has made me kind of a dick at home lately.

I don’t even care that it’s supposed to rain this weekend. I just bought a Goretex MSS Bivy sack off of E-bay and I’ve been dying to try it in some rain. For those that don’t know, a bivy is a single person shelter that you slip over your sleeping bag. It’s dry, warm, and waterproof. It’s like a tent, only with a fraction of the set up time and carry weight. If you’re interested in pictures or more info – check out Zombie Squad Testing Guru WoodsWalker’s review of the MSS Bivy over at ZS. This review is solely responsible for why I bought mine.

So – what else do I have sitting around here? Hmmm…

First I have some older news, but I still think it warrants some review. I saw I Am Legend when it came out in the theaters a few months back. And, although it didn’t really even make an attempt to adhere to Richard Matheson’s source material, I still found it to be a really good movie. From a survivalist standpoint, Neville was a moron; but the movie had a great mix of action and horror. I especially liked how it showed Neville’s impending mental breakdown from the isolation. My biggest issue with the movie, however, was the ending. The things like poorly done CGI monsters and poor preparation on Neville’s part I can overlook and suspend disbelief about. The end, however, just sucked. Now, however, the DVD is out and the power of the internet has brought us the original ending that the movie studio thought was too esoteric for American audiences. I disagree wholeheartedly with that belief and think that the original ending was an ass-load better. You be the judge…

Here’s an amazingly dork-like and nerdy post! Are you ready? “Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.” That last sentence... the one with all the superfluous buffalos... is a valid, grammatically sound sentence. Seriously. Check it out if you don’t believe me. The English major in me is dancing in geekish glee!!!

Uwe Boll will quit making those abortions he calls movies if a million people sign a petition asking him to. Not that I believe him – but one can always hope, huh? And - for those who don’t know – Dr. Uwe Boll is the German director who has brought to the screen such steaming piles of crap as House of the Dead, Alone In the Dark, and BloodRayne. He is evil incarnate and deserves to be arrested, tortured, and painfully executed for his terrorist assaults on cinema and, more specifically, the horror genre. His claim to fame is that he takes reasonably good video games, buys the rights to them, and then makes movies based on them that are devoid of plot, good dialogue, or any sense of artistic worthiness. The scripts are embarrassingly bad, the effects are stupid, and the stories are painfully retarded. So retarded, in fact, they should be taken out back and shot in the back of the head in order to prevent their infecting the rest of the genetic pool. To watch an Uwe Boll movie is an act of suicidal self-lobotomy and is the equivalent of going to a theater and watching the cast down poison as the curtain goes up. You then very quickly realize that you will now watch those same actors writhe on the floor, in agony, vomiting blood and foam, as they spend the next HOUR AND A HALF dying painfully and prolonging the agony YOU must endure in watching it happen. What kills me is how Uwe Boll gets big name actors in his films, much less why such a universally reviled hack continues to get financing to make the shit he calls movies. And the thing is – his movies are not even bad in a good way. Ed Wood was passionate and tried to make good movies. John Waters whole career is defined by how awesome the camp he films is. Uwe Boll is just awful. His work is abhorrent, evil, and must be destroyed so that future generations can be saved from its infectious filth. Please sign the petition. Save the children. I beg you…

Because spring’s finally hit Northeastern Ohio -and I’ve been polishing the chrome on my Harley - I thought I’d throw out a list of the 10 best biker movies of all time. Like all of these lists, there are always going to be ones I disagree with… but it’s still a good start if you want to have some beers and watch a few outlaw flicks on one of those stormy nights when you can’t go for a ride!



More X-Files news! There’s been confirmation on the name. Gods! I can’t wait for this film. And – the title got me thinking. I think I want one of those posters that Mulder had hanging in his office on the series; one of those “I Want to Believe” posters. And, on an unrelated note - Gillian Anderson looks sooooo fucking hot!

Gillian … dear sweet Gillian…

Here is an interesting art project I read about over on MSNBC’s Clicked blog. People take pictures of themselves as children and try to recreate them as adults. Doesn’t make sense? Just take a look at the gallery. Really cool and something I’m thinking of trying. Just like Will at Clicked, I especially like the ones with siblings…

Finally – more Dark Tower geekishness. I, by the way, have begun to re-read the Dark Tower series and am totally immersed in Roland’s world. I thought this oddly appropriate as I will most likely be doing some shooting this weekend.

The Gunslinger's Litany

I do not aim with my hand; he who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father.
I aim with my eye.

I do not shoot with my hand; he who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father.
I shoot with my mind.

I do not kill with my gun; he who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father.

I kill with my heart.

P.S. - UWE BOLL MUST DIE!!!

Summer Olympics

So - I know many of my long time readers read my blog because I'm the funny guy who makes the fart jokes. And I know I have momentarily lapses and get kind of preachy sometimes when I get off on political or religious jags. And I know people don't like that.

I get it.

Seriously.

But sometimes I need to vent and other times I'm powerless to fight the urge to make this blog topical. I occasionally have moments of lucidity where I feel the need to transcend the fart and boob jokes, and use this space for a greater purpose; a purpose that is politically or socially conscious. Of course, I come back down eventually and it's right back to the scatological humor - - but deep down I feel kind of disappointed in myself that I'm not as socially active as I'd like to be.

That being said - this is one of those preachy, Dr.Z-wants-to-change-the-world kind of posts. Don't say I didn't warn you...

Anyway - China and the Olympics.

It is absolutely shameful that the Olympic Committee, the world governments, and the US have allowed China to get away as long as it has with its shenanigans.

That's right - I said shenanigans.

Yeah. We get that they have a billion ready and able soldiers that they can throw like so many grains of sand at the shores of any country they decide they want to invade. Yeah, we get that they've got nuclear weapons. Yeah, we get that they hold half of all our money in their coffers.

I get all that.

But why the fuck do we let them get away with it? President Bush talks about freedom, and democracy, and all kinds of other jingoistic slogans; but yet he turns a blind eye to the blatant and unremorseful human rights violations that China has perpetrated. Jumping Jeebus on a pogo stick! Not that Bush is any model of civil liberties or human rights... his "You're wit' us or you're agin' us" policy has eviscerated the Bill of Rights. But at least his dimwittedness is done out of a sense of moral responsbility, however misguided his version of that may be.

China - on the other hand - is a whole other level of evil.

They showed the Chinese Army running over peacful protestors with tanks, in Tiananmen Square, on motherfucking CNN. China has openly supported the perpetrators of genocide in Darfur. They've sold nuclear technology to rogue nations and bragged about it. They control the internet and put supporters of free speech in prisons that are infinitely worse than even the most horrific gulag the Russians ever dreamed of. They take these same political prisoners - who are often guilty of little more than saying, "Hey... maybe Democracy and letting people have a say in how they live isn't such a bad thing?" - and kill them to harvest their organs and sell them on the black market.

And we turn a blind eye because they make Nike's for a fraction of what Guatemalans or Mexicans would make them for.

And now we've got the Olympics in Beijing. And, in typical repressive regime fashion, they've clamped down on the internet EVEN MORE. They've killed Tibetan monks for daring to stand up to the government. Every day the news is worse about China's strong arming of the Olympic Committee. Unbelivably, they have Chinese soldiers guarding the Olympic torch. Meanwhile, these same brutish thugs are beating English, French, and American protestors in the same way they systematically beat protestors in China. And they're doing this outside of China!

Against this backdrop, we have President Bush, who is not sure if he'll attend the Olympic Games. His and many other world leaders' response to these blatant acts of totalitarian zealotry and affronts to national sovereignty is that "the Olympics aren't about politics".

To that I say, "Bullshit!"

Idealogically, it's true that the Olympics aren't about politics. But that lofty idealogical aspiration goes out the window when held up against the larger backdrop of human decency and human rights. The US boycotted the Berlin Olympics because we thought Hitler and the Nazi's were assholes. The Munich Olympics showed that ideology only goes as far as eleven bullets. And - in 1968 - two brave black athletes held up their hands in a "Black Power" salute and showed that Civil Rights was just as important on a world stage as it was here in the US (and they were banned from the Olympics for life as a result).

The world needs to stand up as one and say, with one voice, "We will not tolerate this!"

And, the United States, which has so much to gain from it, should lead the charge.

But that won't happen because, fundamentally, diplomacy is about being nice regardless of the consequences. No matter how egregious the affront to civility or common human decency, it is more important to be civil and look the other way.

And this is what's wrong with the world today. Nobody can say "Enough is enough." Especially here in America.

Sure we talk a good game, and we act all John Wayne when it's some backwards, medieval, Middle Eastern country with some dipshit leader. But when the big bully China steps out of line, nobody calls them on it. When it really matters, we're not there.

That's uncool.

So - what's my final take away here? Truthfully, I'm not sure. I just wish someone had the balls to stand up and do what's right for the world, the Chinese people, and especially Tibet.

But that's not going to happen and I'm going to have to listen to Mrs. Zombie bitch at me because I'll most likely not watch the Summer Olympics. And I know my watching it doesn't make a difference and is a symbolic, wasted effort at best. But I can't stand by while the rest of the world smiles and assiduously ignores the big white elephant in the room; namely, China and its history of human rights abuses.

Mark my word... we will go to war with China sometime in the next 50 - 75 years. And it won't be pretty because we were too busy being good international neighbors, as opposed to letting China know that we and the rest of the world will beat them like a dog that's decided to shit on the carpet if they continue to step out of line.

Mark my word...

The Truth Is Out There...

Wow. This is shaping up to be a geek-tastic summer for films.

First we have the Hellboy sequel, production has begun on Peter Jackson's The Hobbit, The Watchmen is finally coming to film, and Stephen King has approved a Dark Tower film. Add into that the Dark Knight/Batman sequel and other assorted goodness; and I'm one very happy sci-fi, comic book, horror geek!

But - topping all of that off... word has leaked on the internet of a sequel to something that consumed every friday night of my life back in the 90's.

I'm talking about X-Files 2.

Some trailer's have leaked to the internet and can be found over at this blogger site devoted to the film.

This has me so damned excited! I'm in a fanboy frenzy about this one.

I'll admit it - - I loved X-Files. And I hung with the show all the way to the end - even after Duchovny all but disappeared and Gillian - dear, sweet Gillian made just some random token appearances. And indeed - the show jumped the shark when Robert Patrick and Annabelle Gish too over, but I was a devoted fan throughout. And - like I said, my prime single years back in my twenties were based on The X-Files. If anybody planned on parties, or drinking, or clubbing on a Friday night; it HAD to wait until after 10 and after The X-Files was over.

How much of an X-Files geek am I? Here's how much. I can tell you when I saw the first X-Files movie. It was June 19th, 1998.

And why do I know that?

Because I went to a 1 pm showing of the movie with my brother Aron, and was hard pressed to pick up my tuxedo and make my own wedding rehearsal. Yes, I had to revel in the wonder that is Dana Scully. And yes, that's right - my wedding (which was on June 20th)had to have a viewing of the X-Files movie worked into the plans.

And Mrs. Zombie wonders to this day why she married me (when, in fact, I've told her from day one she would be very quickly the Ex-Mrs. Zombie if I ever had a shot with Gillian Anderson.)

She should have run, but I guess she - like all women - is powerless when faced with the awesomeness of Doctor Zombie. (Maybe not so much that as the power of my patented, oscillating, Scramblomatic Hypno-ray. It's like Roofies without the bad headache and confusing sense of shame the morning after.)

The Name... Is Dalton!

So I’ve been meaning to write about this since I heard about it, but just haven’t had the time.

So anyway, I read last week that Patrick Swayze has cancer. This makes the good Doctor kind of sad.

I’ve talked before about guilty pleasures, and I think old Patrick falls squarely into the realm of guilty pleasures. I’ll admit it, and although it may make me look gay, I dig the Patrick Swayze. I don't care what you think...

I mean, seriously, how can you NOT dig Patrick Swayze?!? This is the man who brought us such awesome 80’s staples as Point Break and Steel Dawn. And don’t even get me started on his early work in the great American classics Uncommon Valor and The Outsiders.

Swayze took his special breed of hillbilly charm to new heights with his turn in Next of Kin, and he was only outshone in that movie by Liam Neeson. Neeson, by the way, may have done a more convincing job as a redneck then Swayze did - but Liam Neeson’s a serious actor who was only slumming in Next of Kin to get some action movie credentials. So what if he totally lost his Irish accent and did a better Kentucky accent than Swayze. Swayze was the star, man. Plus Swayze got to wear that totally cool fucking trench coat.

And then you have his breathtaking showing in Red Dawn. Red Dawn is still one of the coolest movies ever made and, I suspect, it is completely lost on anyone born after the mid-80’s. For those who never lived under the skulking threat of a nuclear cloud, Red Dawn must seem strange and foreign. But – for those of us who grew up during the Cold War - Red Dawn completely captured all of our worst nightmares. And the Swayze-meister was right there, waving a stolen AK47 and yelling, “WOLVERINES!!!” He was an encapsulation of all that is good and right and decent in the American character – and fuck those dirty commies. No other actor could have pulled off the emotion he did when his father, played by Harry Dean Stanton, screamed at him, “Avenge me!”

Jesus Christ in a casket! I’ve got goosebumps thinking about it.

Which brings us to his greatest movie ever… and no I’m not talking about Ghost, or Dirty Dancing. Although Mrs. Zombie might argue that was his best movie – she’s totally wrong.

“Nobody puts Baby in a corner”? Please!

That movie did nothing to showcase the wonder and awe that is Swayze. No movie did it better than his piece de’ resistance. I’m talking about the one movie that was the epitome of his career and the one movie that he should have won an Academy Award for – if the Academy wasn’t so blind. Hell, they wouldn’t know brilliance if it molested them like Adrian Brody did Halle Barrie. I’m talking about the greatest movie to EVER come out of the 80’s.

I’m talking about Road House.

That’s right – Road House. The. Greatest. Movie. Of. All. Time.

Why is Road House the greatest movie of all time? Let me list the ways. It had rednecks in a town that wouldn’t exist anywhere else in the world. It had a villain so evil he would have made a Bond villain flinch. It had sluts, it had a sexy doctor, it had attacking polar bears, it even had motherfucking Sam Elliot. It had an evil ex-special forces guy lounging around some podunk town and who apparently did some time in prison where he practiced unsafe sex with other muscular guys. And there – amidst it all – wearing a mullet of epic McGuyver-like proportions, strode Patrick Swayze as Dalton. A poet philosopher and warrior, he brought his own justice to the bar, ripped out Mr. Gay Special Forces’ throat with his bare hands, beds the villain’s woman, and avenges the death of his friend and mentor.

Holy crap! Road House is damn near Shakespearean in scope!!!

And – last week – it was announced that Patrick Swayze’s got pancreatic cancer. What a fucking tragedy, man. And it’s pancreatic too – which means it’s some hardcore cancer. Not that any cancer’s ever good – but there’s different degrees of the big C, know what I mean? I mean it’s not like the little skin cancer moles that, say Dick Cheney, gets on his bald dome. No siree Bob!

I mean, if there were any justice in the world, Cheney’s moles would metastasize and grow until his head looked like a cross between the Elephant Man and an angry, rotten, red and purple turnip. His upper torso would be a swollen mass of pulsing flesh, and his eyes would squint angrily from between the puffy folds of his Jabba the Hut head.

But, alas, no.

Cheney gets a cancer that can be cut off with a scalpel and some local anaesthetic – while the great and awesome Patrick Swayze gets the kind that kills everyone who gets it within a couple of months.

This further proves my assertion that there is no such thing as a fair and just God.

That’s all right though. If anyone can beat the odds, it’s my man Dalton. Hell – I saw a picture of him last week that showed him still smoking. That’s right – Patrick Swayze is so cool he’s still smoking, even though he’s probably doing so many chemo and radiation treatments he’s as hairless as a baby panda. That’s what I’m talking about, brother. You keep it up, man! Hollywood’s not ready for the loss of so great a talent as you.

You hold on, Dalton… and remember – “Take the biggest guy in the world, shatter his knee and he’ll drop like a stone”.

You kick that cancer in its big, throbbing, fleshy knee. Shatter that cancer’s knee, man. Shatter it!

(Author’s Note: And yes, I just made some cancer jokes. If you haven’t figured it out yet, there is no depth to which I’ll not sink to make my audience laugh. If you’re offended, get over yourself. If you can’t get over yourself and your self -inflated sense of righteousness, I hope you burn to death in a fire.)

Have a nice day!

In Memorium...

It is a sad day in all of geekdom... Gary Gygax, the creator of Dungeons and Dragons, has passed at the age of 69.

I would write something myself, but it would just be rehashing what others have already said. Instead, I give you this fitting and totally loving tribute by The Underground Revolutionaries.

Gary Gygax Passes On
By the UnderGround Revolutionaries


The original Dungeon Master, Gary Gygax, has died. For those of you not familiar with the man, he is the creator of Dungeons & Dragons. As I write this, it is unknown how he passed. I'm going to assume he failed his saving throw against dragon breath. I also like to think that somewhere in the nether-realms, a battle for his immortal soul is being waged between the fell armies of Hez'rugoth, the Balor Arch-Duke of Bloodswill and the angelic forces of Silvergold the Favored Son. Be brave, Gary Gygax! You will soon be cradled in the bosom of the All-Mother. May Lord Ao watch over you.

Gary Gygax published the first edition of Dungeons & Dragons in 1974. Gygax and his buddies were table-top war gamers and in an effort to personalize their armies, they developed a method to expand their characters through math and storytelling. They invented the whole pen-and-paper role-playing phenomenon and their contribution to nerd-dom not only changed the way games are played, it added a mythos of monsters and heroes that ranks up there with the pantheons of Marvel Comics and the Star Wars Universe. Culling elements from numerous fantasy sources, the system created by Arneson and Gygax would lay the foundation for role-playing hobbyists around the world.

Dungeons&Dragons is pure heavy metal. Heavy metal would have never have of taken off if it wasn't for angry parents and the same goes for Dungeons & Dragons. The first rule of awesomeness is if it makes your parents uncomfortable, scared or upset, then it's probably awesome. Hence, D&D is awesome. The game received a huge boost in the public consciousness when it was deemed Satanic by uninformed parents in the 1970s and early '80s. Without that sense of taboo, many a nerdling would have never rolled a single dodecahedron. Look at the cover of the original Dungeon Master's Guide. It has a red, almost naked giant devil holding a blonde, almost naked warrior chick in his hand. The naked red devil also has a giant sword. That is pure heavy metal devil awesomeness.

What those parents (and the mainstream media, who never saw the game as anything more than an opportunity for sensationalist alarmism) were missing was the way in which Dungeons & Dragons brought people together and helped them develop important skills. Everyone talks about sports and the way in which they build character and develop socialization, but nobody ever gives D&D enough credit for uniting and educating the nerds of the world. To play D&D, you had to have an active imagination. You had to deal with math, creative writing, and the solving of complex puzzles and problems. You had to learn to work together in teams. And nothing got across the random nature of life and the need to be able to deal with hard knocks and disappointment better than one bad roll of the 20-sided die. Most importantly, everlasting friendships were forged over graph-paper maps, fold-out charts and reams of character sheets; all tools that gave many who might not otherwise have had the best communication skills a common language to speak and a way to relate to one another. When you met a fellow D&D player, you knew immediately that you stood on common ground. For a lot of kids (and, let's face it, no shortage of adults), the value of that kind of thing cannot be underestimated.

Of course, the legacy of Dungeons & Dragons isn't just emotional. Without Gary Gygax's contribution to mankind, we wouldn't have the video game RPGs of today, as the earliest examples of the form were directly inspired by pen-and-paper role-playing. No Mass Effect, no Final Fantasy, no World of Warcraft, no Everquest. There would be no Magic the Gathering. There would be no Shadowrun or Vampire: the Masquerade, no Ravenloft, no Rifts, no G.U.R.P.S.. Nerds worldwide might not have ever advanced past chess. The dude invented going up levels. He invented hit points, armor class and critical hits. All these concepts are born from Dungeons & Dragons and are cornerstones of modern gaming. From D&D came AD&D, the Monsters Manual and millions of hours of enjoyment for hundreds of thousands of people around the world. Finally, I would never have had the opportunity to purchase a +5 Shirt of Invisibility or a coffee mug that reads "Potion of Greater Restoration."

Thank you, Gary Gygax. Without you, there would be no Gelatinous Cubes, Rust Monsters, Displacer Beasts, Lurkers Above, Mimics, Githyanki, Githzerai, Mind Flayers, Umber Hulks, Archons, Beholders, Drow, Owlbears, Gnolls, Kobolds, Jon Irenicus, Drizzt, Slaads, Black Puddings, Green Jellies, Warforged, Ankhegs, Liches, Water Weirds, Tiamt, Platinum Dragons, Tieflings, Assymars, Ogre Magi, Baatezu, Iron Golems, Winter Wolves, Psuedodragons, Elminster, Hook Horrors, Effreeti, Eyes of the Deep, Xvarts, Bone Nagas, Ice Giants, Stone Giants, Fire Giants, Cloud Giants, Hill Giants, all Giantkin not mentioned herein and Grells. No d20s, magic missiles, knock spells, saving throws or any of it.

I will now be observing a 1D4+6 moment of silence for the grandfather of modern geekiness.

Goodbye, Gary. Without you, Doctor Z. would not be the man I am today and I most likely would have probably gotten laid a whole lot more in high school.

Requiescat In Pace, Gary.

Childe Roland...

...to the Dark Tower came.


So a few weeks ago I mentioned that Stephen King finally signed off on a Dark Tower movie adaptation. I love that they’re finally doing this, King’s greatest work; but I’m also a little hesitant. I love the Dark Tower. It is – in my opinion – probably the greatest piece of epic literature published in the latter part of the twentieth century. In years to come, we’ll speak of it like we speak of Homer’s Odyssey, Beowulf, Elliot’s Wasteland, or Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. The biggest thing I’m afraid of – though - is how badly they’re going to screw up the casting of Roland himself.

King has said that Roland IS Clint Eastwood circa A Fistful of Dollars and the rest of his early Sergio Leone Spaghetti Westerns. Even Eddie remarks at one point in The Drawing of the Three that it’s like he’s actually looking at Clint Eastwood when he first sees Roland Deschaine.

The problem is - Clint is waaaaay too long in the tooth. Hell he was too long in the tooth back in the 80’s when he did Heartbreak Ridge. So I asked the question in my prior blog post, “who the hell should take up the slack for Clint since he’s gone and actually gotten old”?!?

I’ve been thinking about it and I’ve come up with a few possible actors to pick up Sir Roland’s smooth handled guns and I thought I’d throw them up here…


First on our list is one of this year’s Oscar’s best actor nominees... Viggo Mortenson. I think Viggo is probably my number one choice for the role of Roland. I thought so when I saw him in A History of Violence, and it was confirmed when I saw him in Eastern Promises. He has the right look in that he’s got the craggy features, the tall and thin appearance, and he can convey a whole world of hurt with only his eyes. And that’s the most important part about Roland. He’s a man who’s lost everything and everyone he cares about. He’s a man who’s been beaten and knocked low. And yet, there’s still a quiet nobility to him as he mercilessly pursues his quarry across time and space. My only problem with Viggo is a problem I’ve had with him since his speech at the end of LOTR: The Return of the King. He’s got a squeaky, weak sounding voice. I imagined Roland as having a deeper, raspier voice than Viggo’s got. Roland is a man accustomed to long silences, harsh desert air, and years of smoking. In everything I’ve seen Viggo in I can’t help but think he’s too fey sounding. Too bad…


Next we have a personal favorite of mine just because he’s a god. I submit...Clancy Brown. That’s right, bitches – I’m nominating The Kurgan from Highlander as Roland. Suck it - this is my list, not yours! Bear with me on this as I explain… That voice thing I said about Viggo? Yeah, well unlike Mrs. Wispy Mortenson, Clancy sounds like a fucking MAN! He’s got the perfect voice, but he’s also got an intensity about him that would do Roland, son of Stephen Deschaine, true justice. What’s more - Clancy has actually, as he’s aged, gotten even better looking and his look seems oddly appropriate to me. The only thing is that Clancy’s a big guy. He always has been. And it’s big in a way that doesn’t speak to Roland’s years of wandering and years of few and far between meals. It’s an odd choice, but it feels good to me. Besides, how cool would it be to have the voice of Eugene Krabbs from Spongebob Squarepants in The Dark Tower. That’d be awesome!


I’m at a cross roads with this one. This is Timothy Oliphant. He was in the latest Die Hard movie and played in the adaptation of the video game Hitman. More importantly, he played Sheriff Seth Bullock on Deadwood. I loved Deadwood. Deadwood was one of the best, most realistic westerns ever put to film. Thist show raised the idea of calling someone a cocksucker to almost Shakesperean heights. And Timothy Oliphant was a standout, although he was overshadowed by the ever incredible Brad Dourif and Ian McShane. Oliphant had a constant, simmering, percolating barely contained rage that reminded me of that psychotic, six-seconds-from-snapping-and-beating-some-skell-with-a-phonebook hostility that Dennis Franz brought to his character, Andy Sipowicz, on NYPD Blue. He’s got the intensity, he’s got the western chops, he’s got the tall, skinny body, and he’s got the look – but I’m hesitant to cast him for a few reasons… mainly because he’s TOO pretty. Roland should be worn and battered. I think Timothy’s just a little too smooth.


Next we have of my favorite actors of all time - Jason Stratham. Jason Stratham is one of the baddest, most magnificent bastards out there. He’s the sort of bloke I’d like to sit down and have a few pints with in an out of the way London pub. Said pints would then be followed by picking a drunken fight with, and subsequently cracking the skulls of, various soccer hooligans. Again, he’s got the looks, and he’s got the big league action star credentials to pull it off. His only problem is that I get the sense that he absolutely refuses to (or may be unable to) lose the British accent. Sorry – The Gunslinger Roland does not sound like he’s an extra on Doctor Who.


Daniel Craig is an interesting choice. He’s got the look, and he’s a good enough actor to lose the British accent. And he’s got the tight, corded frame that Roland would have (at least he did in Munich). And he knows his way around a gun – he IS James Bond for chrissakes. And he’s surprised us before in his ability to become a character. And he’s got that requisite coldness that Roland must have. That same coldness that would let him callously allow Jake fall to his death rather than interrupt his pursuit of Randall Flagg. The more I think of it, the more I like Daniel Craig…


This will seem a whacky pick, and he is wrong for a whole host of reasons. He’s too young, he’s too babyfaced, and he’s got a really thick fucking Scottish accent – but I think Gerard Butler has a weird chance here. The thing is, he really impressed me in 300 and totally transformed himself into King Leonidas. It’s amazing what a beard and psychopathic adherence to a weight lifting regime can do. And he brings so much passion to his roles that I think he might possibly have a pony in this Ka-tet. You may disagree, and I think I might even disagree with myself… but I can’t help but think he might have an outside shot here…


Finally – we have The Punisher himself, Thomas Jane. Unfortunately, I’ve heard that the guy who played Titus Pullo on Rome (Ulster actor Ray Stevenson) is taking Jane’s role in The Punisher sequel, so Thomas Jane’s going to be free. Also, he had a role in Stephen King’s Mist, so it’s Ka that he would be involved in the Dark Tower (Stephen King has said that the Mist is a Thinny and that the creatures that come through the mist are a) similar to the crabs that take Roland’s fingers and b) the spider’s that attack Jake at the Way Station). Jane’s kind of a long shot but, again, he’s got the intensity and dark visage of Roland.

So there’s Doctor Zombie’s picks for Roland. Love ‘em, hate ‘em, whatever. What do you think? Any other suggestions for Roland, short of sending a 1983 Delorean back through time to grab a young Clint Eastwood to take the role?!?

Of course it goes without saying that Clint should have a part. It wouldn't be right if he didn't. It'd be a fucking tragedy if he didn't. In fact, he'd be damn near perfect as Roland's father, Stephen. That's a given.

And – since I’m making my casting dream list – I can see NO OTHER ACTOR in the role of Eddie except for Ryan Reynolds. He’s the smartass guy from Blade III and Van Wilder . He’s also the guy that dated and then broke up with Alanis Morisette. That also means he became the source of rage and feminine angst for her latest album. I’m sure she gave him royalties...

That’s all I have for now, dear readers. I look forward to YOUR suggestions for the casting of The Dark Tower.

So - for now - thankee, Sai, for sharing Khef with me!

Snowy Day Musings

Well, as I write this, we're in the grips of a huge snow storm. They're saying 8-12 inches before tomorrow morning, so I've nothing to do tonight except watch Barack Obama pull down Hillary Clinton's granny panties and spank her naughty bottom on TV. The debate, by the way, is being held where I matriculate - - Cleveland State University. Kind of cool ,I guess.

For my part, it’s been a busy few weeks for the Doctor. I’ve been working on rewrites of my novel, working at my real job, and I even managed to squeeze in a winter campout with Zombie Boy and his Cub Scout troop. (I’ve seen horrors that would make a normal person lose precious bits of their sanity – but none of those horrors compares to the sheer brain melting terror that is a weekend in a snowed in cabin with 15-20 hyper active 8 and 9 year olds. It’s somewhere along the order of the 8th or 9th ring of hell. Believe me…).

So – at work we’re exploring ways of networking with new electronic mediums. So I had to create a Facebook profile. Dear dark Pagan gods! What sort of crack is this?!? I’ve been blogging for a few years, but I’ve assiduously avoided any sort of social network sites because of the simple idea that it wasn’t something I’d be all that interested in. Holy crap was I wrong. Like I said, it’s like crack…it’s like a needle of smack in the veins. It’s taking everything I’ve got to not log into it and just click and play all day. At the risk of impacting my productivity, I need to consciously avoid it. That being said – feel free to come visit my Facebook page and say, “Hi.”

Got some zombie news – some good and some bad. I found a great interview with Our holy father George Romero on his latest flesh eating undead opus – The Diary of the Dead. Also – if you haven’t seen it yet – there’s a few trailers over on the film’s Myspace page. This movie makes me hard. The bad news is that there’s no Cleveland – or Ohio, for that matter – showings of it. Sons of bitches. I am absolutely going to die (again!) if I can’t see this in a theater. However, I’m going for a couple days of vacation with the family in a few weeks. As we’ll be in the Pittsburgh area, I may try to sneak out from the hotel and catch a showing of it. I’ll need to tread carefully, because Mrs. Zombie’s already threatened me with a painful death if I don’t stop bugging her about visiting the Evansville Cemetery and Monroeville Mall while we’re there. Hey! If I’m going to make a pilgrimage to the birthplace of the modern zombie film - - I’ll be damned if I don’t go to the holy sites as well!!!

On a similar note, I’ve been thinking about the blog quite a bit and have come to a decision of sorts. The problem is that I love doing my movie reviews. And that was the initial purpose of this blog, beyond being an exercise in just writing more in general. Unfortunately, I’ve been lax about posting entries on a regular basis – let alone writing movie reviews like I should. And add to the fact that I have – in fact - seen an assload of movies that I’ve never even bothered to write reviews about. So what’s a brilliant, undead, insane, evil zombie genius to do?!? Well – that’s where the decision I’ve made comes in. As I see so many horror films, I need to restrict the content. Well, maybe restrict is too strong a word. Let me say instead that I will be limiting the scope and genre of my movie reviews. Going forward – I will just be reviewing movies about the undead. That means primarily zombies, and peripherally, vampires and ghosts. I think this is a good choice. It means I don’t have to write reviews for the 7 or 8 horror movies I watch in an average week, nor do I have to choke down the bitter taste all of those pg-13 shitbag pseudo-horror movies I feel I need to watch. For instance, a week or so ago I saw AVP: Requiem (Good movie, by the way. Lots of gore, lots of scares, and it made up for the crap-fest that was the original AVP), and this gives me room to focus on and stress about writing a review for I Am Legend; which, by the way, I saw a few weeks before AVP. (Another great movie, but less because it was horror and more because it was about survivalism, that stretched the idea of vampires to weird CGI limits. But I digress…) Anyway, Doctor Zombie’s Midnight Theater of Terror will become more streamlined and low drag. Hopefully it’ll also give me room to write more often. So we’ll be talking about more focused, undead related movie reviews, general updates about all manner of cool, and the occasional personal fart joke on my part. And – if I see a movie that doesn’t fit the genre – I still reserve the right to write about it. Let’s hope this plan works. Fingers crossed…

So – some other links…

First I saw this and – although I loves me some Guitar Hero – this is so much cooler. I imagine there’s a whole generation of kids out there saying, “I can totally play guitar. I rock on the last level of Guitar Hero III on Expert. I’ll totally pwn you!” Thank the dark gods someone decided that, instead of further ruining our kids with video games, they’d come up with a way to learn a new skill besides smacking whores ala GTA, or learning how to bowling with a Wii nunchuck. I mean, seriously, what’s bowling without real bowling balls, an inhuman amount of $1 beers, and the local color of the people you meet at the bowling alley?!?

Let me post this up here….



There you go. This is a picture that’s caused some trouble on Wikipedia. There’s been tons of uproar because Muslims consider it offensive and blasphemous to display pictures of the prophet Muhammed. So there! Thhhbbbt! Go ahead and call a Jihad on me, I dare you! Bring it, fuckers!

Trailer for the new Hellboy. Sweeet! I can’t begin to tell you how excited this makes me! Guillermo Del Toro and Ron Perlman rock at a subatomic level!

Of course it’s nowhere near as excited as this!!! Indiana Jones is back and he’s got a new trailer. Jumping Jesus on a mother fucking pogo stick does this look like it’s going to rock. This is a movie I’ll need to take work off for. There are so few of tose these days!!!

And - because I've got a thing for redheads... here's a link to the Lindsay Lohan nudes with the New Yorker magazine. I link to them for a few reasons. the first being that I'm lecherous, I like naked women, and I have always kind of had a thing for Lindsay Lohan. It's that dirty girl thing... and she's dirty in the good way. (For an idea of how I classify Dirty... Good Dirty is Lindsay Lohan or Dita Von Teese; basically girls who you'd never take home to mom - but they'd teach YOU new tricks and hot damn wouldn't they be fun! Bad dirty girls, on the other hand, are like Brittany Spears, Angelina Jolie, Tara Reid, or Tonya Harding. They're damaged goods, they're train wrecks, and you'll most likely catch something. Yikes!) Unfortunately, Lindsay's on her way to her own train wreck - sadly. The other reason I link to them is because I think they're actually interesting in a few ways. Lindsay's pretty, and the pictures are very tastefully done, but whereas Marilyn Monroe's have a flirty, fun sexuality to them - - Lindsay's have a harder edge. Lindsay has a really haunted look in her eyes, a look I suspect is part desperation and part a recognition that her life may be going in the wrong direction. It reminds me of the look of those pictures Dana Plato took right before she OD'ed on a speedball. Not sure where I'm going with that, but either way, Lindsay's still hot, in her freckle-y, redheaded way.

Finally – one of my new favorite shows is the Sarah Connor Chronicles. And – although it plays with the mythology some - it’s still really, really cool. And Summer Glau is sooooo hot. This show is made perfect by the addition of the beautiful young woman who played Summer Tam in Serenity and Firefly. And, like I said, it’s a bit fast and loose with some of the stuff that happened in the first two movies, but it’s trying really hard to be faithful. That being said, I found this thoroughly geeky breakdown of the Terminator models absolutely fascinating. This is just the sort of nerdy stuff that makes the internet so awesome, and the authors of this are my kind of sci-fi geek. Ahhh… the smell of geeks in the morning!!!

That is all for now, dear readers. Unpleasant dreams and, remember, Dungeon Masters don’t HAVE levels. Dork. < snort!>

Where's My Tardis?

Shamelessly stolen from Stupidevilbastard.com... because we're geeks of a similar vein!




It's kind of creepy. Like Les says, "It's like they know me or something..."

The Howl of the Geek

Got a few links…

First off, we have a return to a site that I pimped a while back. The Dead Gentleman are some crazy guys out of Oregon who make low budget flicks that, if they weren’t low budget, would be at home with anything Kevin Smith does. I wrote a review of their first production, The Gamers back in December of 2006. Anyway, I periodically check their site for updates on their sequel - The Gamers: Dorkness Rising (which stars an old friend of mine – the immeasurably talented and beautiful Carol Roscoe). Unfortunately, it is STILL in post-production with no word on when it will be available for purchase. But, despite continuing to make me very sad, they do have a trailer on the site for the film; which makes me marginally less sad. That said, I continue to hope and pray that there will be some movement on the release of the film. So; go to the site, watch the trailer, and join me in my agony of perpetual waiting!

Dear Dead Gentlemen,

Please move it along as I grow impatient.

Love,
Doctor Zombie

p.s. – Don’t make me pull out my d20 of Certain Doom. None of us want that!

In other movie news…

In Hollywood’s ever continuing quest to totally rape all that I consider sacred, New Line is resurrecting the Nightmare on Elm Street series. “Cool!” you might say. I might say so also, except for the fact that they’ve decided, for reasons known only to the retards working at New Line Cinema, to have somebody BESIDES Robert Englund play Freddy Krueger. That’s right, you read that correctly. They’re recasting Freddy Krueger. At least that’s the rumor out there. They’re “re-imagining the series”. And this really, really pisses me off. That’s not to say that the series couldn’t use some help. The franchise declined pretty steadily as the 80’s and early 90’s marched on, sucking the very life out of the series. Freddy, like Jason Voorhees, became a parody of himself. He was redeemed somewhat in Freddy vs. Jason as they returned him to his badass, evil, roots; but the films that immediately preceded that were mediocre at best. The thing is, in Wes Craven’s original, Freddy was one of the greatest horror icons of all time. I remember watching the original at a girl’s house back in high school and feeling an unfamiliar, but exhilarating tingle. And it wasn’t because of the girl. It was a feeling of fear. From a horror movie. And, although that’s common for many people, it is, even at that point in Doctor Z’s life, sadly uncommon. I’ve seen so many horror movies that I am rarely unable to suspend my disbelief enough to get scared. And there’ve been few movies that do that. Nightmare was one of them, and Hollywood is going to fuck with that. Bastards.

Pop this bad boy into your favorites and keep an eye on it! It’s the official blog for Peter Jackson’s Hobbit. This will, as production starts to roll up, become a daily stop for the good Doctor. Damn, I can’t wait for this film!

Other Links:

Is there any way I can talk somebody into trying this with me? I’m going to call my brother Richie and try to convince him that this is something we need to do. This looks so awesome! I actually have been intrigued by the idea of rallies since I first heard about the Gumball 3000. There’s something about the excitement, adventure, and challenge of racing great distances through exotic, foreign lands. If anybody is interested in trying to do this (of course, Mrs. Zombie may have some decidedly negative thoughts on the idea of my flying to England, buying a cheap car, and driving it from England to Africa – but she’ll come around to my way of thinking. She understands my unreasonable need for fame and adventure), contact me at my email up by my profile. Tell me this wouldn’t be a fucking blast!

Look at this utter insanity!!! I was doing a vanity Google search (Quit looking at me like that! Like you’ve never Google’d yourself!?!) Anyway, I found someone trying to sell a used copy of my book, North Coast Gothic: A Grim Fairy Tale for… get this… $199.44. That’s right – some stooge is trying to sell my book for $200 shekels! Now, I’m more vain and egotistical than most when it comes to my writing. In fact, I’m vain and egotistical about practically nothing save my writing ability. Others may argue that my writing is not good… but they can bite me. I’m fucking brilliant. But I am – without a doubt, and even considering my swollen headed self absorption – most definitely not worth $200. This shit cracks me up! Good luck with the sale, buddy. And, by the way, if you, dear reader, are interested in a copy of my book - I always recommend you check it out over at Amazon.com. The link’s on the right, up above, under “My Writing”. Besides being only $12.95 (as opposed to $200!!) they have a great review of it. And yes, I did just shamelessly plug my book. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a self-promoting douchebag. What are you gonna do about it?

I’ve two new blogs that I’m going to be adding to my blogroll just because they’re really, really cool.

The first is the Zombie Workout blog. The author is an out of work TV writer who’s decided she needs to get in shape to pass the time until the writer’s strike is over. But, instead of joining a gym and spending a few hours a week on an elliptical, she’s decided to look at it in terms of usefulness. And, when looking at practicality, nothing tests one’s fitness as surely as a post apocalyptic world overrun by ravenous, rotting zombies. She explains it much better than I do, so check out the site. Funny thing is she popped in at Zombie Squad last week. I’m not sure what that says, other than the fact that the zombie preparedness world is much smaller than one thinks…

The second blog is The Daily Coyote. This one wins just because of the photography. But besides that, and for those who don’t know, Doctor Z. is a dog person. I love dogs and, much to Mrs. Zombie’s eternal frustration, I sometimes care more for dogs than I do human life. Few things are capable of melting Doctor Zombie’s cold, unfeeling, undead heart – but dogs are the definite exception. And that love for dogs extends to coyotes. Often, when camping here in Ohio, one finds themselves awakened by the eerie howls and yips and ululation of coyotes at night. At first, there’s a twinge of primal fear at the sound, but then it transforms into wonder. I hope to, someday soon, go camping somewhere where there’re wolves. How cool would that sound?!? Anyway, check out this site for the cutest damn coyote on the internet!

And to round out today’s linking goodness… I have this funny piece about biological diversity. It’s about the wonderful insect world, of which I want absolutely nothing to do. Dear dark Pagan Gods - I hate bugs! If you suffer any entomophobia… don’t click the link. I’m serious. Don’t do it. If you think I’m fucking around, and click it, you’ll be sorry. Seriously. Don’t say I didn’t warn you…

That’s all for now dear readers. I’ve actually been remiss in updating like I should. I’ll try to be better, but no promises – I’m working on my newest novel. That’s taking up a lot of my creative writing time. We’ll see about my being less of a slacker…