S.L. Schmitz's Blog, page 6

Upset about the Chicago Teacher Strike? Than this will really make you mad

 I am very proud of the Chicago Public School Teachers, and their recent strike. They were fighting for fair working conditions, fair evaluations, and the ability to question the restructuring and/or closing of “failing” schools.

Some of you may or may not already know this about me, but I am a teacher.

A public school Special Education Teacher who also happens to be National Board Certified, to be specific.

Teachers are not very popular these days in the media or in politics. Apparently, everything that is wrong with the United States of America is the fault of the public school system.

So let me share this with you – because of my special education degree, I have had the privilege of teaching in 5 different schools in 12 years, in 2 different counties.

I could tell you the stories about the five years I spent working with at-risk students from some of the worst housing projects in the city, and I could also tell you stories about my one year that I spent in a wealthy school where every classroom had state-of-the-art technology and each student had their own laptop. I will never forget the homeless student who slept in class because he had to stay awake every night to protect his mother and their belongings in the shelter, nor will I forget the rural high school kids who drove their farm tractors to school. This year, as part of my staff development, all of the teachers in my school had to watch a video about street gangs – but after the video was over, our principal turned to us and quietly said that the most dangerous gang we needed to keep an eye out for in our part of the county is the Ku Klux Klan. She wasn’t kidding.

I live in a right-to-work state. Do you know what that means? Technically, it means that unions are illegal and that all public employees (firemen, policemen, teachers, etc) do not have collective bargaining power or unified organization. What we have are human resources departments and due process. By the way, in the 2012 election for governor of my state, one of the leading candidates has announced that as part of his education reform package he will eliminate teacher due process rights, eliminate tenure, and initiate pay-for-performance. In other words, he is giving the green light for a teacher to get fired at any time, with no ability to question the proceedings, and tying high stake testing scores to teacher pay. What a guy.

I read this today from blogger Brandi Martin, and found it poignant and relevant. If you were already upset over the Chicago Teacher Strike, than here is another reason to be mad at those horrible teachers daring to stand up for their rights:

http://luminouspage.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-ruined-everything-why-it-was-more.html?m=1

 

Friday, September 21, 2012

I Ruined Everything (& Why It Was More Work Than You Thought)… by Brandi Martin

Dear twitter users boiling with anger about forced subsidization of unionized teachers:

I’ve taught art for seventeen years. I’ve complained about certain things at work, but I’ve never regretted my profession. We all knew what we were signing up for when we chose our jobs; I knew I wouldn’t get rich, but I knew I’d have summers off, and a steady paycheck. So did you, actually. The summer thing is an antiquated agrarian anachronism, (read, not new), so please don’t act outraged at this fresh new insult. If you became a banker or waitress or IT guy or whatever job you have that doesn’t seem to mind your constant vigilance of pro-union tweets, you knew it had two weeks’ vacation a year. You knew the salary, and the risks of advancement. When i started teaching in 1993 my contract said $20,000. I thought that sounded AMAZING. I thought a bulldozer with a haystack of twenty thousand dollar bills was going to pull up and dump them all over me. When i started getting paid I had to take a weekend job at Carmen’s Pizza taking phone orders for delivery so I could pay my bills. But I had no complaint.

To earn this $20k I taught art on a cart to 850 kids at 3 different schools every week. Almost every kid was on free lunch. My budget was $1.50 per child per year. This is *actually* possible. My classes applauded when I entered the room every single time! I took up Spanish lessons again at my own expense, so that I could say “Quieres papel amarillo, o azul? Doblalo, y desdoblalo. Ok, cortalo. Bueno!” So that the new kid off the boat (so to speak) wasn’t terrified that he or she had to talk to the gringa teacher. We made puppets, paper mache, tissue snowflakes, and lots of chalk and tempera paintings. I loved going to work every day. I loved festooning each little school with the happy art. I enjoyed telling wide-eyed kids I actually lived in the dark, mouse-poopy art closet down the hall. I worked in the lowest paying district in a 300 mile radius, but I didn’t care. I felt needed, and I knew I was making some little soul’s morning, every time I went to work.

I feel less and less that way when I read angry tweets and newspaper comments about my profession. Maybe I shouldn’t read what angry tax paying trolls write and say on the internet, but I’m so appalled I keep checking to see if it’s still there. I’m told I’m ungrateful. I read that I am greedy, or a tool of greedy union bosses. I am a selfish “son of a bitch,” one guy informed me, when I was trying to explain the details and the facts of current legislation. I read that everyone’s life is going down the toilet, because I am breaking their backs. I have ruined everything. Everything is ruined.

Please know it did not feel like ruining everything. It felt like sitting in a tiny plastic chair at a tiny table, cajoling an autistic preschooler into brushing watercolor across a white wax face i had pre drawn, then watching him laugh at the big reveal. It felt like receiving a drawing as a gift from a talented little boy who drew like an adult, but suffered crippling arthritis in his hands and for whom i had arranged free classes at SAIC. It felt like crossing a name off a roster because she and her grandmother had been raped and killed in their house near the school. It felt like a million little notes shoved into my hands and pockets from eager little people who only came up to my waist. It felt like tamales from mothers who could not speak much English but beamed widely as they handed the foil package over.

Now at the high school level it feels like alarmed inquiries following my every absence, it feels like a crowd around my desk, like emails during the evenings and weekends. It feels like a 6’2 kid standing up from his computer animation to announce loudly “I AM AN ARTIST.” It feels like kids who come back during their lunches and study halls, spending half the day in my room, and sometimes come to school only for my class: this according to parents. It feels like emails and letters, even years later, saying I was the best teacher they ever had. It feels like all my letters of recommendation, begging for college admission or a scholarship for another fine young person. It feels like trust, or just relief that I listen.

So guess what? I am rich, you miserable, bitter harpies. But you have it all wrong. Just because your job sucks and you can’t wait to get out of there every day doesn’t mean that’s how I feel making my living. It’s a shame, but it’s a world of your own making. If you loved your job, I doubt you’d be investing this kind of time degrading mine. In contrast, I enjoy the luxurious power of changing kids’ minds about school *every day*, even on eight-year-old computers that run on my sheer will alone.

So do it. Reduce my pension. Make me poor, since I don’t qualify for Social Security. Make my medicine unaffordable. Make my raise contingent upon proof that my art lessons somehow improved state math scores. Continue firing at my feet to see how long you can make me dance. It still won’t change the fact that life did not work out as you planned, and you’re now a bitter little turd. AND I will STILL… love my job, because I am rocking this for all the right reasons. After you take every tool and incentive and support away from me, and millions like me, you won’t suddenly have anything great that you don’t already have. And then you will be terribly disappointed to find out that this isn’t a scam after all. Whether decorated or destroyed, inside every school we run on something you can’t legislate, isolate, measure or destroy. Much to your inarticulate all-caps despair.

It’s love, dumbass. If you’d bother to volunteer at the little school down the street you could have a sample. I won’t even tell the kids what you wrote about their teacher.

–Brandi Martin

http://luminouspage.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-ruined-everything-why-it-was-more.html?m=1

 

Filed under: About Me Tagged: Chicago Teacher Strike, CTU, due process, high stakes testing, pay for performance, public school system, special education, strike, teacher, unions

Toby Bennett: Musings from a cigar smoking dyslexic horror writer

I am very pleased to introduce Toby Bennett to guest post on my blog today. Welcome, Toby!

Toby Bennett was born in 1976 in Cape Town, South Africa. He holds a degree in philosophy from the University of Cape Town. Like many writers he has had a varied career that has included graphic and web design, database administration and technical writing. His true passion lies in creative writing and to date he has written six novels and a fair-sized collection of short stories. Find him on Amazon or visit: www.thedragontower.co.za for more info.

Want more information on Toby’s books? Check out the list here!

Toby Bennett is one of the novelists featured in Bloody Parchment: Hidden Things, Lost Things, and other stories

It’s all very well guest blogging but when the initial glow wears off you realise that you’re actually going to need something worthwhile to talk about. So here I stand before the metaphorical microphone, “Tap, tap is this thing on? Am I glad to see you ladies and gentlemen, I’ve only typed fifty five words and boy are my arms tired!” Drum roll please.

So I thought I might say something about writing. I am a writer after all, or at least that’s what I answer (rather than feckless lay about) when people ask me what I do. I’ve sold a few books, not bad for someone that people thought might never learn to read or write. Yup, with any luck the spell checker is hiding the fact that I’m terribly dyslexic, or whatever they are calling it these days, (yes, I still use the term dyslexic, I spent long enough learning how to spell dyslexic without them re-naming the syndrome, sadists! What’s next —  a hurdle race for the blind?). I’ve always wanted to write, I’m not sure if part of me knew that I could do it despite everything, or that I wanted to do it so much because some people thought I couldn’t, all I know is that these days I have to write. I’m pretty laid back by nature but there is something prickly in my soul that prods me with lit cigars until I sit down and write something (“Oh for a muse of fire…” sounds nice till the abuse sets in). My cigar-happy passenger’s promptings have meant that I have six titles on Amazon and another two in editing, and somehow it still doesn’t seem like enough.

I write fantasy and horror with varying degrees of success. I recently had over seven thousand people download my book “Heavens Gate”. Yes it has vampires in it but the story is actually about the man eating them. I’m hoping that so many downloads means I’ve done something right. we’ll see since I’m about to embark on the inevitable sequel “Heaven’s Guardians”. It’s really great to be able to have a platform like the kindle to let you get your work into other people’s hands. I can’t say enough about how this kind of opportunity has changed things for writers. It’s also interesting to note how the goal posts shift as one starts to be read more. When no one had read my work I used to say “If I can connect just one other person with my work then I will consider my efforts worthwhile”. Three days at the top of the free SF lists on Amazon gave me a very different perspective. I’ve had a brief taste of a wider audience and I sometimes find myself obsessively checking my Amazon sales figures. It’s then that I have to keep reminding myself to stay Zen and remember why I write.

As far as I am concerned, an author’s priorities should run as follows: Above all write what you want to write. Write to please yourself because if it is not something you have some joy and passion in the reader will pick that up and why should both of you be miserable? Your second consideration should be the reader, they have to take the trip you have prepared so next to your own happiness their enjoyment is the most important. You can’t please everyone but if you can put some of that joy or excitement you felt while creating the book in for them you should do alright. The absolute last consideration should be whether people will pay for it… that doesn’t go for you readers; don’t take your authors for granted. if you want them to be able to work you need to pay them… But writers you should know the deal, if you need to pay them… But writers you should know the deal, if you wanted to make money you might have had a better bet signing up for NASA training! Every year a million more novels hit the slush pile and only thousands of those will ever be seen by the public. Once again we have to thank Amazon and their Kindle for giving writers a better shot at reaching a wider audience. I started out to say something about writing but the more I thought about it I found I also wanted to say something about us as readers. What I want to say boils down to this:

“We should always be demanding more, both from ourselves and our authors.”

I’m a firm believer in reading whatever flicks your switches and I hate literary snobs who tell you what a good book is. That’s something that should be very much in the eye of the beholder. But we have to be on guard against the modern tendency to take our entertainment for granted. We live in a world of sound bites and instant truths. Modern literary wisdom holds that there’s no one out there who can digest a sentence of more than twenty words and more and more there seems to be no willingness to take risks or try something different.

I wouldn’t presume to tell you what you should read but I do believe that writers should at least be trying to create something new rather than just replicating things that have been popular in the past. It is individual readers and their personal tastes who provide the impetus for new idea’s and different types of story. Consider the difference between off the rack clothing and a designer suit. A book produced to a commercial formula will satisfy the greatest number of readers, but perhaps there is something to be said for that cult classic that reaches only a small audience. In the past commercial concerns often meant that simple ideas won out over the more exotic and complex concepts. The great news is that isn’t true anymore, writers can take a chance and you can get hold of their work because of sites like Smashwords and Amazon. I’m not saying every literary experiment will work, but there has never been a time when authors could have a more intimate relationship with their readers. It’s a great time to be alive and it’s a time filled with opportunities for readers if they are ready to take a chance and try new things.

So what should people be reading? Well, who am I to tell you?

Read outside your comfort zone. Look for less mainstream works that you might avoid if you had to pay the full price of a hard copy edition, and if you find a treasure for goodness sake don’t keep it to yourself. Get on review sites like Goodreads or post a review on Amazon and help others find something worthwhile. From personal experience I can tell you it makes an author’s day when someone actually gives feedback on their work, which if you enjoyed the book, seems like a fair trade.

Well, those are a few of my thoughts and the end of my guest blog, phew! It probably goes without saying that the opinions expressed here are very general and are meant as food for thought. It all boils down to this: you should demand more of your writers, go to places that scare you and make sure that you support the Authors you feel have delivered.

All the best and happy reading.

Toby Bennett

Filed under: About Me Tagged: authors, Bloody Parchments, Nerine Dorman, South African Horror Fest, Toby Bennett

The Goblins will get you if you don’t watch out

Just a little something to keep in the spirit of the coming holidays…. I belong to the Horror Writers Association, and am proud to display their banner on my blog.

Filed under: About Me Tagged: Horror Writers Association, HWA

She Mostly Cries At Night…Mostly

I am very pleased to introduce author Lee Mather on my blog today. I have never met Lee personally, but had the pleasure of being introduced to him by Nerine Dorman, the editor of the Bloody Parchment: Hidden Things, Lost Things and other stories anthology.

Bloody Parchment is the literary component to the annual SOUTH AFRICAN HORRORFEST.  Visit the links http://horrorfest.info and http://www.shadowrealminc.com/ for more information and news on their 2012 call for submissions.

“Fading Light” featuring Lee’s story, “Wrath”, will be available in September 2012 by Angelic Knight Press.

“First Kiss, Last Breath” will be available in October 2012 by Lyrical Press.

Lots of good thoughts here – visit his website at http://www.leemather.org.uk/ to get to know him better!

 

She Mostly Cries At Night…Mostly

GUEST POST BY: LEE MATHER

Youth is wasted on the young, is the saying.

I start to write this blog and I’ve been interrupted twice already. Firstly, I’ve rocked my ten week old daughter back to sleep, and secondly, I’ve answered a telephone call from my mother. These days, my time, it seems, is at a premium.

This is coupled with the fact that I’m pretty tired. My daughter is sleeping more, but not sleeping through. The tiredness feels ingrained in me at the moment.

I’ve wondered, recently, why I left it so late, well into my late twenties, before I tried to write and sell my stories. The younger me never had the same challenges around time. I had the opportunity and the energy to do whatever I wanted back then.

I read from an early age. I remember getting hooked on the adventure books of Willard Price and a whole host of Enid Blyton stories. I wanted to unravel a mystery in the jungle or to be the sixth member of the Famous Five, and I remember staring out of my bedroom window, watching the Manchester rain, and seeing myself in some far flung place, unravelling some far fetched mystery.

Writing came a little later, in my teens. I was reading Tolkien and Terry Brooks by then, Stephen King and James Herbert. I think adolescence was the perfect age to discover Fantasy and Horror. In growing up, I began to realise that maybe life wasn’t so easy. Maybe this is why darker stories resonated with me, because of how they worked in tandem with my own anxieties.

We got to write stories at school, in English lessons. I remember writing an alternate ending to “Lord Of The Flies” and a hybrid of fantasy and horror, “Blue Fire”, about New York cops that came across a magic stone from another dimension. I remember these stories being awesome, but I think time has helped this memory.

It started then, the notion that I could write someday for a living. People did it. Why not me?

I took English Literature at college as an A Level. Business Studies was a subject that came easily so I studied this too. And then I began to chase my dreams.  Well, not quite.

Around this age I discovered I could get served alcohol in pubs. The world changed. If I wasn’t chasing down pints I was chasing after girls – unsuccessfully most of the time, I might add, which is surprising as I had all the wit and charm of a normal seventeen year old boy.

Back then, none of my friends read that much, unless the reading material belonged to a syllabus. Reading and writing became an occasional discussion over a beer.

“I’d like to write a book one day. I think I could.”

The dream of becoming a writer became less important to me as the subsequent years flew by. I aced Business Studies and I chose a degree in it. I was a fully pledged member of the real world. I would need a job some day, some marketable skills, so English got shelved. I thrived at university, but not academically.

I would write a book some day. But not any day soon. Maybe when I was older.

I graduated, got a job, met a girl. I rented my own place, had money in my pocket. Life was pretty good.

This carried on well into my twenties. I wasn’t challenging myself, but I was happy to let things drift on by. Life had a dream-like quality.

Then my dad got cancer.

It would be okay, I told myself. He was my dad. Bad things didn’t really happen to my family.

When he died, at forty five, one of the things that resulted during and after a long period of grieving was that I started to look at myself. One thing was certain, forty five was no age to die.

I could keep coasting, but if I did would I have regrets? I had a few skills up my sleeve but had I ever put them to real use?

Suddenly, growing up was hard once again.

And then it happened. I found my focus. I didn’t want to coast anymore. I wanted to challenge myself and I began to think more and more of the younger me and the notion of writing a book. In the most traumatic period of my life I had learned that fate had its own plans. It would certainly not wait for me.

So I wrote. And it was not good.

So I wrote some more and it was better. So I submitted it. And it got rejected.

So I learned more about writing.

I wrote shorter stories and enhanced my writing technique.  I improved. “The Green Man” was published in December 2010. I became aware that there were thousands of writers out there, most capable, most with something to offer. If my voice was to be heard then I’d have to work harder than the next person, do everything I could to make myself better. I’m still trying.

Feedback for “The Green Man” was super, more positive than I could have expected. But I’d set myself higher standards. I had no other work to offer that I was happy with. This meant I had to go back to the drawing board and write some more.

I got married one year later. My daughter was born a year after that. Life, as ever, was moving fast.

And that brings us up to date.

My time is more precious than ever. My life is full of challenges. But I love it.

So, do I think youth is wasted on the young? Not at all. The younger me was a dreamer, and that’s how this all started. But back then I didn’t have much in my locker, certainly not enough to write with any credibility.

Life experience has helped me find a voice. In my thirties, I know more about pain and joy than I ever did in my early twenties. Growing up has also helped me find the focus to lock myself away and actually write.

And the writing itself? I’m progressing. I have three stories featuring in anthologies this year and one standalone novella. I’ve also gained entry into The Horror Writer’s Association.

“Fans of Stephen King are going to love this,” says author Karina Fabian of my forthcoming novella, “First Kiss, Last Breath”.

This made me smile. It reminded me of the teenager watching the rain from his bedroom window, a crumpled copy of “IT” on his bedside table.

———————————————–

Find out more about Lee and his writing at www.leemather.org.uk

Or follow Lee on Twitter

“Bloody Parchment“, featuring Lee’s story, “Masks”, is available now from Amazon.

“Fading Light“, featuring Lee’s story, “Wrath”, is available from September 1st from Angelic Knight Press.

“First Kiss, Last Breath” is available from October 8th from Lyrical Press.

Filed under: About Me Tagged: Angelic Knight Press, Bloody Parchments, horror, Lee Mather, Lyrical Press, Nerine Dorman, SA Horrorfest, South Africa

Second Edition this n’ that n’ brick n’ brack

It’s here, and it’s gorgeous.

Dark Continents Publishing has released Let It Bleed in a second edition format, available in both e-book and softcover format.

Please take a moment and take a chance on my controversial little novel – it is dark, engaging, full of big words and big ideas.  Dark Continents has had Let It Bleed on the KDP Select program for the first three months of its life, but as of September 2012 it will be transitioning over to other purchasing sites such as Barnes and Noble.

Want to know how to help a struggling author (like myself) get their novel into local bookstores? Don’t use Amazon. Go to your nearest independent book publisher and do a special order request that they order Let It Bleed for you. Either use the title, my name, or the ISBN #978-0983160304

Alternatively, if you want to really step up and help make a difference, go to the Amazon site and leave a review of Let It Bleed. If you’ve never left a review before, don’t be intimidated — it is really easy. Just use your regular login information, and then go to the book page on Amazon and do the following three things:

1) “LIKE” at the top of the page

2) Scroll down towards the bottom of the page and check that you are in agreement with the “tags”. If you can think of a great tag that is not currently represented, please feel free to add.

3) In the center of the page, there is the ability to “write a review”. There appears to be no maximum to the number of words one can utilize to either like or not like a novel (OH! But I hope you like mine!), but the minimum number of words is 25. Even saying a quick “this was my favorite part” is helpful and greatly appreciated.

Every single author I know would love this treatment, not just me.

Get out there – shop and comment. Especially if you’ve been the recipient of a free copy. Do the author a favor and pay it forward!

Filed under: Blog Tagged: Amazon, book review, Dark Continents, horror, Let It Bleed, Rolling Stones, SL Schmitz

Horror undead and well … even in South Africa

I am very please to have Nerine Dorman guest blog today. In case you haven’t guessed from the title of this post, Nerine heralds from Cape Town, South Africa. I met her approximately 18 months ago when I stumbled onto her  This is my world blog , and we bonded over all things dark and mysterious. Check out her novel Inkarna, the novella Blood and Fire that is co-written with the equally talented Carrie Clevenger, and Bloody Parchment: Hidden Things, Lost Things, and Other Stories.

Horror undead and well … even in South Africa

By Nerine Dorman

 

There’s nothing like a good thrill to remind you that you’re still alive, and horror is undead and well all over the world; even in South Africa.

 

Bloody Parchment came about two years ago in answer of a need for a dedicated dark fantasy/horror event in South Africa, but with a global reach, and grew as a supplement to the annual South African HorrorFest. While folks elsewhere might be spoilt for choice with a range of events and conventions, we here in South Africa really hadn’t had much happening until then.

 

Bloody Parchment can be divided into two parts, the actual event, which has, for the past two years taken place at the Book Lounge in the week leading up to Halloween, at the start of the SA HorrorFest, and a short story competition/anthology. This year we were proud to announce that eKhaya, the digital imprint of Random House Struik came on board to release the second anthology under the guidance of Louis Greenberg.

 

But more on this year’s short story competition and anthology. People often ask me whether the competition is open to non-South Africans and I’m happy to say yes. It doesn’t matter if you live in Timbuktu or the outer reaches of Mongolia. If you’ve got a knack for the written word, and access to an internet connection, you can enter. And the deadline for submissions is easy to remember: October 31. I thought the date was apt. [smiles]

 

This year’s title story, Hidden Things, Lost Things, was written by Brett R Bruton, who delivers a very creepy, surreal dip into an oozing Lovecraftian horror, but there’s a little something for everyone, from some of the fresh, upcoming talent in contemporary dark fantasy/horror fiction. The anthology offers quite a bit of variety, and I thoroughly enjoyed putting it together.

 

What am I looking for in this year’s competition? Definitely more of the same: quality, literary dark fantasy/horror gems that will stain my thoughts (yes, I’m looking at you, Brett, Toby and Benjamin, you dear little darklings). While I don’t mind seeing vampires and werewolves, I really do hope writers will do something a little different with these tropes. I am not looking for Twilight fanfiction with the serial numbers filed off.

 

So, how does the competition work? After I read the slush pile (yes, pity my poor eyeballs) I make a selection of stories that a) well written and b) actually *tell* a story. The more unsettling and strange, the better. And if you can manage the outright frightening, hellyeah!

 

I do not want to see rambling conspiracy theories, mindless torture porn or moralistic parables. Neither must the manuscript look like it was dashed off on a smartphone on a whim (if you use ampersands instead of the humble “and”, I will cry. You don’t want to make me cry. Or bash my head against my desk.). Believe you me, I’ve been reading slush long enough to have seen the aforementioned again, and again, and again. Ditto for derivative works based on the latest horror film. (And there’s a reason why I hate Saw and The Hostel with a burning passion. Just. Don’t. Go. There.) Random acts of mutilation do not equal horror. If the finger or eye violence actually adds meaning to strong narrative, that’s another matter entirely. But there *must* be a plot.

 

Once I’ve separated the “Dear nine hells no” from the “Mmm, yeah, this might work” and found a few I think are “Oh my Dog this is HOT”, I mail the stories to my panel of judges, who are all industry professionals (authors and editors). They are the ones who rate the stories, and after that, it’s simply a case of tallying up the numbers and announcing the winner and finalists, who will be included in the following year’s anthology.

 

This is a lot of work, but it’s also a lot of fun, which is why I’m all gung ho for this year’s competition, and the first promising entries are already lurking in my inbox. Authors who make the final cut also get detailed edits, as part of why I started this competition was to help develop promising new voices.

 

So, if you reckon you’ve got what it takes, go take a look at our submission guidelines, and better yet, perhaps purchase and take a look at this year’s anthology, then allow your imagination to go wild.

 

Purchase Bloody Parchment on Amazon here 

For more information about The Bloody Parchment, visit the blog here 

Visit South African HorrorFest website here

Queries: nerinedorman@gmail.com

Filed under: About Me Tagged: anthology, Blood and Fire, Bloody Parchments, call for submissions, Carrie Clevenger, Dark Continents, horror, Inkarna, Nerine Dorman, SA Horror Fest, South African Horror Fest, undead

Free Puppies (OK – I’m just trying to get your attention. There are no free puppies.) Free kittens….

This post is reproduced in its entirety, as in I copied and pasted the whole thing off of John Hartness’ website.  Feel free to do the same thing.

The Oatmeal is a satiric cartoon site run by Matthew Inman. About a year ago, he noticed that his content was being uploaded without attribution to a site called “The FunnyJunk.” The FunnyJunk is a site that contains user generated content. This means that account holders post things that they like from all over the internet. Maybe a pre-Pinterest sort of site. The Oatmeal writes to the FunnyJunk requesting that the information be removed.

FunnyJunk took down the comics but proceeded to create a mirror image of The Oatmeal’s website. The Oatmeal responded by asking his readers what to do.

The FunnyJunk responded with a call to action to its own users asking them to inundate The Oatmeal’s inbox and facebook page. The FJ’s users responded in droves using their arsenal of retorts such as gay slurs and incoherently misspelled sentences to insult The Oatmeal and his biological predecessors for having the gall to procreate and, I guess, learn how to spell and draw.

According to Ars Technica, after the furor died down, the FJ admin acted somewhat responsibly, possibly realizing that its site could be in jeopardy due to all the copyrighted material illegally reposted there.

When the flame war finally died down, the FunnyJunk admin issued an unsigned note saying, “We’ve been trying for the longest time to prevent users from posting copyrighted content” and “I’m having all content, comics, comments, etc. with the names of your comics in them deleted/banned by tonight… The site barely affords to stay alive as it is and has enough problems.”

The Oatmeal v. FunnyJunk could have died there in November of 2011, only to be a footnote in internet flamewar history. But no.

The FunnyJunk for some reason came into contact with Charles Carreon, Esq., an attorney who came into national prominence during the sex.com domain name lawsuit. Carreon penned a letter on behalf of FJ, threatening The Oatmeal with a lawsuit for the post where The Oatmeal points out that the FJ has copied his website. Carreon, on behalf of FJ, wants the post to be taken down and $20,000 in damages.

The Oatmeal gets a lawyer and responds back with well worded, backed by research, rebuttal. The Oatmeal also goes on to decide to raise money off this ridiculous situation because so many of his readers want to help but the money isn’t going to Inman, instead he raised money for charity. Initially, he only thought to raise $20,000 for charity but the donations came in thick and fast and in the end, Inman raises over $200,000 which is donated to The American Cancer Society and the National Wildlife Federation.

The Oatmeal v. FunnyJunk could have died there on June 12, 2012, only to be a footnote in internet flamewar history and with its own Wikipedia entry. But no.

The situation gains the attention of the mainstream media and Carreon begins to make personal threats. He expresses wonderment and dismay at the internet’s reaction (he calls it bullying) toward his legal demands of Inman and The Oatmeal. He suggests that there might be other legal problems for the Oatmeal such as the fundraiser being violative of IndieGoGo’s term of service.

The internet continues to make fun of FJ and Carreon. Other attorneys make public statements about Carreon’s actions which include statements like “Holy fucking shitballs inside a burning biplane careening toward the Statue of Liberty, Captain! I hope that the reporter merely got the story wrong, because if not, that’s more fucked up than a rhino raping a chinchilla while dressed up in unicorns’ undergarments. ”

The Oatmeal v. FunnyJunk could have died there later on June 12, 2012, only to be a footnote in internet flamewar history, with its own Wikipedia entry, and a few mainstream media mentions. But no.

Charles Carreon’s pride has been wounded. In his delusionary state, he must see that the only way out is to double down on the Jack and the Six (i.e., worse blackjack hand in the deck). He takes the situation to DefCon 5. Last night, Popehat was alerted by another legal watcher that Charles Carreon has filed a lawsuit against The Oatmeal, IndieGoGo, American Cancer Society, and National Wildlife Federation.

He transcended typical internet infamy when he filed a federal lawsuit last Friday in the United Sates District Court for the Northern District of California in Oakland. He belonged to the ages the moment he filed that lawsuit not only against Matthew Inman, proprietor of The Oatmeal, but also against IndieGoGo Inc., the company that hosted Inman’s ridiculously effective fundraiser for the National Wildlife Federation and the American Cancer Society.

But that level of censorious litigiousness was not enough for Charles Carreon. He sought something more. And so, on that same Friday, Charles Carreon also sued the National Wildlife Federation and the American Cancer Society, the beneficiaries of Matthew Inman’s fundraiser.

Popehat is a site run by a bunch of lawyers and they are offering Inman pro bono legal work and they are asking the internet the following:

1. Kevin and I have offered pro bono help, and will be recruiting other First Amendment lawyers to offer pro bono help. It’s not just Mr. Inman who needs help. IndieGoGo does to. So do the charities. No doubt the charities already have excellent lawyers, but money that they spend fighting Carreon (whatever the causes of action he brought) is money that they don’t have to fight cancer and help wildlife. That’s an infuriating, evil turn of events.

2. You could still donate through the IndieGoGo program The Oatmeal set up. Or you could donate directly to the American Cancer Society or the National Wildlife Federation. I like animals, and I loved my mother who died at 55 of cancer, but I have no qualms whatsoever about encouraging people to donate to those causes as part of a gesture of defiance and contempt against Charles Carreon and the petulant, amoral, censorious douchebaggery he represents.

3. Spread the word. Tell this story on blogs, forums, and social media. Encourage people to donate as part of a gesture of defiance of Charles Carreon and entitled butthurt censors everywhere. Help the Streisand Effect work.

4. Do not, under any circumstances, direct abusive emails or calls or other communications to Mr. Carreon. That helps him and hurts the good guys. I don’t take his claims of victimhood at face value — not in the least — but such conduct is wrong, and empowers censors.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part IV from Popehat.

Feel free to copy this entire post and repost it (even without attribution) anywhere you can.

Filed under: About Me Tagged: American Cancer Society, attorney, Cancer, Charles Carreon, FunnyJunk, IndieGoGo, lawsuit, Matthew Inman, Popehat, The Oatmeal, Wikipedia, World Wildlife Foundation

Sweatin’ to the Oldies

I saw recent pictures of myself, and have decided that I am too heavy right now.

I’m not overly concerned about my weight. I go up and down the scale pretty regularly, and just happen to be on the heavy-side right now. I tend to refer to these periods of weight gain as my body’s need to feel more substantial – a need to be a larger presence in the world when my spirit is feeling small. I eat too many candy bars and donuts because I am always craving sugar, and end up not fitting into my jeans.

But, like all phases, my desire to lose weight eventually kicks in and I make efforts to lose the belly fat. Plus, I have a wedding to attend at the end of July – a gathering of Aunts, Uncles, and over 30 cousins whom I have not seen in over 5 years. I would like to look halfway decent when I go to this family reunion, and losing 15 pounds would be a good start.

I will be making smoothies, going for walks, and probably trying out this Advocare cleanse stuff that I’ve had in the back of my pantry for a long time. I have good recipes for cinnamon apple water and lemon cucumber water, and I have a lot of free time right now to focus on this.

I would post a photo of how I look ‘now’ – but I don’t want to. I wish I could find my DVD of Richard Simmons’ Sweatin to the Oldies, but I think it got thrown away at least three moves ago. Think I’ll go on Ebay and see if I can find one for sale.

Drinking a blueberry strawberry smoothie right now. I think I’ll add a touch of honey next time. Things are looking up.

Filed under: About Me Tagged: family reunion, Richard Simmons, smoothies, Sweatin to the Oldies, weight loss

Summer time

With my son, known around here as the Big Bopper, at Camp Grandma for the next few weeks, I am blissfully able to write all day, every day.

I have 5 different short stories and novellas all in various stages of completion. Two of them require a LOT of research, and I spend hours trying to unravel big scientific words about the International Space Station and golems (not in the same context, mind you).

My husband is not a teacher, and therefore does not have eight weeks off like I do. In between resentful snarky remarks involving housework and meal preparation (or lack thereof) he just kinda lets me do my own thing. His requests tend to revolve around asking me not to start cocktail hour until after 4:00pm and following up to make sure I paid the mortgage on time.

So my days are pretty quiet. Wake up whenever, drink coffee, sit on sofa and write. Eat food (today I had a bowl of vegetable soup and some marshmallows) and drink lots of white wine. Go to bed really late, usually after reading a book or watching a bad horror movie on cable. Repeat every day, as needed.

My goal is to finish all of these works in progress by the end of summer, as well as put a business plan in place for the new publishing adventure, Andromeda Eve.

Did I mention I have been transferred to a new middle school in the fall? It’s a good thing. Life as a Special Education teacher is always a study in patience and flexibility – and that’s just with my coworkers, not the kids. I will give public education another few years to get its act together before I throw up my hands and roll my eyes at the self-induced chaos and find something new to do with myself.

I’m going to try to be more faithful to this blog, as well. I’m not promising great words of wisdom, or advice on becoming a best-selling author, or any crap like that. There are lots of people out there already doing that, and doing it much better then I could ever muster.

So I’ll chat about little things that came up this year, like Savannah, GA and paranormal activities, and entities called “hags”, and movies and books and people I meet and things I think about.  And you, dear reader, are encouraged to comment and share and interact however you see fit.

Sound fair? Good. Comment below, and win a free goldfish.

 

 

Filed under: About Me Tagged: golems, hags, International Space Station Savannah, paranormal activities, summer

Circles of Life

This weekend my six-year old son John watched the movie E.T. for the very first time. At one of the most poignant moments of the movie (yes – there is more than one) when Elliot and E.T. separate from one another mentally and physically and then E.T. dies on the operating table, my son looked at me with tears running down his face and whispered “Is he really dead?”  

And when E.T.’s heart glowed red just as Elliot almost finished closing the dry ice casket, my child sat up straight and wiped the tears away gratefully. “He’s not dead!” John said with relief. “I knew it!”

As a mom, I sat there watching John’s reaction to the movie and felt such a powerful connection to him while we shared this story.  Say whatever you want about Spielberg as a person – as a film director, he is flawless. Every scene of E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial  is a masterpiece of photography and images, with characters that are so well developed and likeable that the viewer can’t help but become emotionally involved in the little alien’s journey to get back home.

I loved being there while John watched it for the first time. Later, he asked me if we could watch some more E.T. movies, and became perplexed when I explained that there was only one. To a child raised on movies that always have part 2’s and part 3’s, this was beyond his comprehension. “But why, Mommy? Why is there only one?”

“They told the whole story in just one movie, that’s why. There isn’t any more story to tell. You have to use your imagination to figure out what happened after E.T. went home.” I replied. This made him thoughtful, as if he were learning a new concept about life.

Even after we finished watching it, John wanted to talk about what happened. I was impressed when my son – the child who can barely remember more than 4 lines of a song at any one time – was able to correct me when I added too many words to the good-bye scene between E.T. and Elliot. Here I was, thinking that I needed to interpret the ending for him by saying, “And then E.T. told Elliot to come with me…”

“That’s not how it goes!” John got to his feet and proceeded to re-enact the scene perfectly, adding voice inflection and using his hands the same way the characters did as they faced one another and said so much with so little. “Come……. Stay….”

I am reminded of a story my mother likes to tell about the time she took me to see Walt Disney’s original Bambi in the movie theatre. According to her, I was five years old and sensitive. At the point in the movie when Bambi’s mother dies, I was reduced to big crocodile tears.  “Why do they have to make movies so sad for little kids?” I had asked, barely able to get the words out between sobs. I know that my mom regards this as a special moment just by the way she talks about the memory. It was a real mother/daughter moment.

Flash forward 35 years(ish) and I am experiencing déjà vu with my own child. Just the two of us, snuggled on the couch watching one of my favorite movies of all time and enjoying the experience.

Blissful.

Someday, when he is older, we will analyze the Peter Pan theme that flows throughout the film, as well as discuss the subliminal statement about adults vs. children that Spielberg was making by keeping almost every adult face covered until the moment E.T. dies. We will compare the original movie vs. the updated one with the guns Photoshopped into walkie-talkies, and dream about what might have happened if Elliot had gotten into the spaceship…

But for now, we’ll just watch the movie over and over like 6 year olds love to do, and be grateful for the experience. Maybe someday John will have his own son or daughter, and he will watch a favorite movie with them and they will cry at the emotional part. He will remember our time together, and then maybe he’ll also remember the story from Grandma, and one of the many circles of life will be complete.

 

 

Filed under: About Me Tagged: Bambi, E.T., E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial, extra-terrestrial, movie theater, Steven Spielberg, Walt Disney