Moe Lane's Blog, page 806
November 27, 2020
Tweet of the Day, NOOOOOOO NOT JEANS GUY! edition.
RIP JEANS GUY: The now infamous "Jeans Guy" blooper in Chapter 12 of #TheMandalorian has been digitally removed.
Christmas Shopping? Try FROZEN DREAMS and/or ANAGNORISIS!
FROZEN DREAMS is my first fantasy novel (post apocalyptic high urban fantasy pulp detective, because I WILL NOT BE CONSTRAINED), and ANAGNORISIS is my four story horror illustrated chapbook. Perfect for holiday purchases! Buy ten of each, and give them all to your loved ones!
And more books coming!
November 26, 2020
Day 26, TINSEL RAIN NaNoWriMo: 53511/60000.
Got more work done than I expected. Which is nice. Dinner went well, too.
Patreon!“So this is the famous Tom Vargas,” Howie Rowan said as the party hubbubbed around us. In contrast with everybody else, his formal wear looked Badlands-derived: polished boots, black denim pants and jacket, cotton shirt, and a black Stetson. Oh, and a bolo tie. He was tall and slim enough to pull the thing off,too. “So pleased you could join us.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “I even brought my nose along. No thanks to that jackass you sent to collect it. How are his ribs, anyway?”
“Wouldn’t know, tell truthful,” Rowan replied. He shrugged. “He ain’t with my outfit no more.”
“He have time to pass on my message?”
“And what message would that be, Mr. Vargas?”
“That the rules are different, here.”
That got a laugh. An actual, genuine laugh. “No, they’re not. They’re the same rules as everywhere else. You can do whatever you can get away with, and when you’re on top? You can get away with a lot. I just didn’t figure you’d be too hard to just squash. My sincere apologies for the insult.”
“Well, that’s refreshing,” I said as I pulled out a cigarette. “Unless you mind?” A lot of foreigners still got this taboo about tobacco. I don’t know why: the stuff’s been safe for centuries.
“Feel free,” Rowan said. “Do I look like a Mormon?”
I looked him up and down. “Not particularly.” I didn’t offer him a smoke, but unfortunately he probably knew enough about Shamuses by now to realize me not offering him one wasn’t an insult.
“As God is my witness…
“…I thought turkeys could fly.”
Happy Thanksgiving!
Gonna be running around all day: cooking, Zoom calls, kid’s birthday party… it’s a thing. I hope everybody has a great day today!
November 25, 2020
PIES!
Or a pie. Pumpkin, and I have no idea how it came out. I got the recipe off of a can, because we’re doing Thanksgiving dinner on our own for maybe the first time since my youngest son was born and that means we have to make everything ourselves.
So… pies! (My wife made an apple upside down thing and we’re keen to see how that’ll go, too.)
Zombie Mink outbreak in Denmark.
Ah, 2020. It is truly not the worst year in human history – somewhere between 1936-1949 AD would be my guess – but it is definitely one of the strangest. The writer of this piece was being just a little too arch here:
Mink infected with a mutated strain of COVID-19 in Denmark appear to be rising from the dead, igniting a national frenzy and calls from local officials to cremate mink carcasses.
While the sight itself is certainly terrifying for the residents of West Jutland, a region of the country grappling with confirmed COVID-19 cases connected to mink, there is likely a scientific explanation for the zombie-like reemergence from their graves.
Yes, of course there was; the bodies weren’t buried deep enough and internal gasses pushed them to the surface. They came up with ‘six feet under’ for a reason, folks. Sheesh.
Day 25, TINSEL RAIN NaNoWriMo: 51377/60000.
Filling in holes! So many, many holes.
Patreon!Beyond the door, things were… much the same. Graciella had just enough time to roll her eyes before we went through the next one, which opened to a spiral staircase going down. It also had a couple of guards, neither of whom were trying to hide it. Sam saw Graciella look at them, and shrugged. “Better safe,” he said, and nothing more.
“…than sorry, right?” Graciella after a moment.
Big Eye Sam raised an eyebrow. “Is that how the saying goes? I’ve never felt the need to read beyond the first two words.”
We reached the bottom, and yet another door. Sam made a show of unlocking it. “I hope this will be a bit more impressive, Miss Graciella,” he said as he opened the door with a flourish.
From her sudden intake of breath, it seemed like it was. Fair’s fair: the Adventurer’s Guild has a nice little setup going on underground. I was impressed the first time I saw it.
It’s not quite its own town, down here. There aren’t enough bars, for one thing. But the landing we were on overlooked a bustling little operation, a story or two down on the ground. Lots of buildings, lots of pallets, a couple of cranes to move things around: there was even a miniature railroad, going off in a tunnel. I knew that it led up to a secret cove down the coast where the Guild shipped things it didn’t want anybody else to see, but I didn’t mention that to Graciella. It wasn’t any of her business and I wasn’t sure Sam knew that I knew.
