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Little Horn or Lame Duck? MAGA and the Orange Hitler Turtle Have Won...For Now

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  NOTE: I use the proverbial you in this a lot. I’m addressing the MAGA camp when I do. If you are not a member of the MAGA camp, then I don’t mean “you” when I write in the second person. In places where this changes, I will say so. To my fellow leftists, I have nothing derogatory to say. We know who we are. We stand for human rights, equity, kindness, compassion, and understanding. We do not stand for bigotry or tyranny in any form. We do not stand for Alabaster Christ and His Oppression. We do NOT stand for “White Is Right”. We do not sit still for round ups. We do not ban or burn books, even the ones we hate. We here on the left do not feel like we are the Great Grand Arbiters of what The Next Person Does. When I claim the left, this is the left I’m talking about. I’m not talking about the idiots who want to do crazy chaotic shit just because it’s crazy and chaotic. I am not a “spread anything that shits on America, even if it’s a lie” leftist. Yes, they’re out there. I view those
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What's Royal About A Junkie?

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Cover Design by Kasey Hill Nothing. But he thinks there is. At least for a while.  When you're high on meth and heroin and whatever else while you're out there, and the only rules are: 1. Defend yourself. 2. Stay on your hustle. 3. Show respect to the block. You feel like royalty. Never mind if/that you're having a schizophrenic break, that bullshit doesn't matter. What matters is you know everyone else lives a life where they have to do what they're told while you, royal addict, flit about as a bohemian with no one who can't kick your ass or throw you in jail able to tell you diddly squat. The world is your playground. You can go wherever you want, and do whatever you please.  Of course that's total bullshit. What good is total freedom when you have fuck all to do with it or show for it? You have to make your own stuff to do all the time, and when the steel fish aren't biting and your pockets are empty, there's a lot of just staring and shaking (amo
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Symptom of the Universe: Holy Fuck Does it Rock

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And I'm only partially through with it. Halfway, I believe. It came to pass that I signed an agreement with Godless, so all effort is going toward final edits, formats, and cover creation for my first full-length novel. A beast at over 166,000 words, it's taking everything out of me. Except for one thing, and that's my love of the book I'm taking the time to write about now. This anthology from Dark Moon Rising Publications and editor J.C. Macek is a masterpiece of, like Nature Triumphs, dark speculative horror fiction. Hybridized. Pulpy. Surreal. Gritty. Many of the  stories are positively trippy. David Tamarin and his Wizard doing the reverse of what the song says a Wizard ought to do. Mawr Gorshin and his beautifully nonbinary rendition of a romantic Lucifer. Don Webb brings Ozzy himself to a parallel dimension where everything is more fucked up than the old singer's past dope trips. From Rhys Hughes, a tennis pro whose wife becomes the net a la Super Blockout be
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On Nature Triumphs: A Charity Anthology of Dark Speculative Literature

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Nature Triumphs: A Charity Anthology of Dark Speculative literature had a very rocky birth. Most of you know why. But luckily, the brave tenacity of our publisher coupled with the courage of the editors involved made sure this wonderful book saw the light. And I couldn’t be happier with it. A mixture of short fiction and poetry grace these pages. The stories in there will surprise you. Hallucinogenic frog soup. Night of the Living Dead Deer. Trees fed up with human catharsis and taking matters into their own branches. Weed that smokes you. A yard whose practical joke against its owner drives him to madness. A vengeful beekeeper and his buzzing warriors. An elite group of military “Reapers” work to rid the world of infected zombies in what becomes nothing short of a Heinlein-esque gorefest. And then there is my tale, “A New Mom for the Bee Boy” in which an exploited orphan with an affinity for bees becomes the downfall of a powerful family of Satanic hedonists. These and more gems awai
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Trump, Harris, and Entropic Design

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I'm looking through this blog. There's triple digit reads on many things, but the plants have only 3. REALLY? What's the matter? Y'ALL DON'T LIKE PLANTS? AREN'T THEY FUCKIN PRETTY? Okay, now that we've laughed together, let's get serious. I see Harris diss memes, I see Trump diss memes, I see some people doing both and I get it. I do. I'm a very, very understanding bastard. I will not lose love for anyone who disses Harris. I'm not sure of her myself. She's a DA, and I'm a Felon. However, though a Felon, Trump is the kind of Felon we real Felons punk out in the pod if you feel me. If he went to jail, his only hope would be to join the Aryan Nation. They'd have him. The Bloods would fucking eat him guaranteed. He's Hitler on Valium with a group of Nazis Who Hate Brown People Instead behind him. Still I can't, knowing what I know, just say "Yes, Harris will save the world. I do not know that. There every chance she'll g
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A Letter to MAGA and Other Haters of the Woke

First--I'm a felon and can't vote (that we are close to having a felon president notwithstanding), but if I could, I'd vote Harris. You got-damn right I would. Even though she's said and done things I don't like, I would. Why? She's not Trump, and this is the way the game is played. Unless 200 million of us all band together, this is the way the game will CONTINUE to be played. Is that going to happen? HA! NO. So. Yes, I'd vote Harris. Wanna throw over it, MAGA? You chant "Fight!" And the rage kicks in... I've done my best to be nice in this. I've watched people who've never made a fist in their life cry for Mad Max shit to happen. That's so fucking annoying. I've done my best to keep quiet. I'm fuckin' done being quiet. (Some clarity before we begin: When I say "forever" I mean as far as the USA is concerned. Continuing on.) The "woke" people have been repressed and persecuted FOR THE FUCK EVER. Do
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Plants

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  But why? It helps me live to help something else live. Plants in the yard, see, are totally fucking helpless. They’re just like domesticated animals in certain respects. You probably think your dog or cat is feral, I promise it isn’t. I’ll tell you how I know. Because I’ve seen hawks and owls snatch unwary animals and take them up into the sky. Often these are mice from my own backyard. My pets have been fine. There are others in Fernley and Fallon who aren’t so lucky. Hawks and owls do NOT fuck around. At all. They will pluck your pet from the yard. Domesticated animals don’t have that sixth sense their feral cousins have, so they won’t feel the hawk’s approach and thus fuck off. They’ll stand there being cute until they become lunch.             Plants, where the climate is concerned, are the same. In our case, climate is the hawk. Here in Northern Nevada, there are trees and creosote plants, purple sages, occasional cacti, and of course the ubiquitous jack pines that thrive wil
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