Ian McClellan's Blog
October 13, 2016
The Voting Dead
The 2016 American presidential election is only a couple of months away. I wish it were tomorrow, because it has been covered to death here in the U.S. and I’m not sure how much more I can take. Even though the major news networks have dissected the race from a seemingly infinite number of different angles, none of them have come close to touching upon the burning question on most people’s minds. Since they are once again being lax in their journalistic duties, I have decided to do the necessary research and determine who would win the 2016 election if it were held in the universe of The Walking Dead. Here’s how the voting would go:
Rick: Challenge this man’s authority, and you’ll probably be pushing up daisies by the end of the episode. While that signature Clinton move has a vote for Hillary written all over it, Rick’s isolationist tendencies and mutual love of extreme vetting will have him pulling the lever for The Donald.
Rick’s vote: Trump
Negan: The leader of The Saviors likes getting stuff, but hates working for it. He was solidly “feeling the Bern” but with Sanders out of the race, he’ll have to choose another candidate. Negan isn’t enough of a flakey hippie to vote for Jill Stein like so many former Sanders supporters. He’d likely opt for the remaining candidate with the biggest propensity toward violence and most vulgar vocabulary.
Negan’s vote: Trump
Glenn: Glenn is a doer. He wants to get things done without a bunch of government regulation and bureaucracy. Being the son of immigrants and someone who doesn’t care for violence, he wouldn’t be able to vote for Trump. This leaves him with only one clear choice.
Glenn’s vote: Gary Johnson
Morgan: In a democracy, even someone who isn’t smart enough to open an unlocked door gets a vote. Morgan was tinfoil hat insane for a while there. Back then, he would have been getting his news from InfoWars and voting for Trump. Now, he believes that all life is precious and does tai chi. That sounds like a Green Party voter to me.
Morgan’s vote: Jill Stein
Carol: If Carol tells you she’s feeling the burn, it’s safe to say it’s because she just blew something up or lit someone with the sniffles on fire and not because she’s a Senator Sanders supporter. This alpha female doesn’t want to see the glass ceiling simply shattered, she wants the whole building knocked down with a wrecking ball. She’s with her.
Carol’s vote: Clinton
Dwight: Dwight is going to pull whatever lever Negan tells him to pull, or get a hot iron to the right side of his face, too.
Dwight’s vote: Trump
Daryl: No one tells Daryl what to do. He doesn’t like big government trying to take away his crossbow, force him to wear sleeves, or make him take a shower. This moonshine drinking biker is clearly a Libertarian voter.
Daryl’s vote: Gary Johnson
Michonne: One of the more complex characters on the show, Michonne is also the most conflicted about for whom she should cast her vote. While she likes the idea of a woman president, she also tends to hold a grudge and remembers Clinton’s “super-predator” comment from back in the day. Despite the dreadlocks, Michonne doesn’t smoke nearly enough pot to vote Stein. She won’t go the David Clark/Uncle Ruckus route and support Trump. As a workout freak, she feels good about casting her vote for the only candidate to climb all seven of the seven summits and compete in the Ironman World Championship, but as an art lover, worries about funding for the NEA being decimated under a Libertarian presidency. With Johnson out as well, Michonne decides on a protest vote.
Michonne’s vote: Write-in, Vermin Supreme
Sasha: Increasingly cynical and isolated, Sasha finds herself agreeing with the angry rhetoric of the Republican nominee more often than not. The NRA endorsement solidifies the choice for this gun lover.
Sasha’s vote: Trump
Maggie: As an expectant mother, Maggie is a single issue voter. She wants to keep her healthcare so she can be sure the delivery and postnatal care are covered. With a lot of talk from Trump and Johnson about repealing the Affordable Care Act, she decides on the candidate who wants to keep the law.
Maggie’s vote: Clinton
Abraham: An ex military man, Abraham goes with the majority of his brothers and sisters in combat.
Abraham’s vote: Gary Johnson
Rosita: Still bitter over her recent breakup with Abraham, Rosita sticks with her fellow scorned woman.
Rosita’s vote: Clinton
Eugene: Being a man of science, Eugene openly rejects most of the republican platform and will not even consider voting for Trump. He also laughs off the notion of supporting anti-vaxxer Jill Stein. He likes Gary Johnson, but can’t resist all of the big government research money that another democratic administration is sure to bring.
Eugene’s vote: Clinton
This race is too close to call! Clinton and Trump are at a dead heat, with Johnson a very close third. Oops, it appears that all of the votes have not yet been tallied. Turns out Lori, Shane, Andrea, Tyreese, Beth, The Governor, Phillip, Bob, Hershel, Merle, and T-Dog have all voted democrat. Clinton wins in a landslide!
Rick: Challenge this man’s authority, and you’ll probably be pushing up daisies by the end of the episode. While that signature Clinton move has a vote for Hillary written all over it, Rick’s isolationist tendencies and mutual love of extreme vetting will have him pulling the lever for The Donald.
Rick’s vote: Trump
Negan: The leader of The Saviors likes getting stuff, but hates working for it. He was solidly “feeling the Bern” but with Sanders out of the race, he’ll have to choose another candidate. Negan isn’t enough of a flakey hippie to vote for Jill Stein like so many former Sanders supporters. He’d likely opt for the remaining candidate with the biggest propensity toward violence and most vulgar vocabulary.
Negan’s vote: Trump
Glenn: Glenn is a doer. He wants to get things done without a bunch of government regulation and bureaucracy. Being the son of immigrants and someone who doesn’t care for violence, he wouldn’t be able to vote for Trump. This leaves him with only one clear choice.
Glenn’s vote: Gary Johnson
Morgan: In a democracy, even someone who isn’t smart enough to open an unlocked door gets a vote. Morgan was tinfoil hat insane for a while there. Back then, he would have been getting his news from InfoWars and voting for Trump. Now, he believes that all life is precious and does tai chi. That sounds like a Green Party voter to me.
Morgan’s vote: Jill Stein
Carol: If Carol tells you she’s feeling the burn, it’s safe to say it’s because she just blew something up or lit someone with the sniffles on fire and not because she’s a Senator Sanders supporter. This alpha female doesn’t want to see the glass ceiling simply shattered, she wants the whole building knocked down with a wrecking ball. She’s with her.
Carol’s vote: Clinton
Dwight: Dwight is going to pull whatever lever Negan tells him to pull, or get a hot iron to the right side of his face, too.
Dwight’s vote: Trump
Daryl: No one tells Daryl what to do. He doesn’t like big government trying to take away his crossbow, force him to wear sleeves, or make him take a shower. This moonshine drinking biker is clearly a Libertarian voter.
Daryl’s vote: Gary Johnson
Michonne: One of the more complex characters on the show, Michonne is also the most conflicted about for whom she should cast her vote. While she likes the idea of a woman president, she also tends to hold a grudge and remembers Clinton’s “super-predator” comment from back in the day. Despite the dreadlocks, Michonne doesn’t smoke nearly enough pot to vote Stein. She won’t go the David Clark/Uncle Ruckus route and support Trump. As a workout freak, she feels good about casting her vote for the only candidate to climb all seven of the seven summits and compete in the Ironman World Championship, but as an art lover, worries about funding for the NEA being decimated under a Libertarian presidency. With Johnson out as well, Michonne decides on a protest vote.
Michonne’s vote: Write-in, Vermin Supreme
Sasha: Increasingly cynical and isolated, Sasha finds herself agreeing with the angry rhetoric of the Republican nominee more often than not. The NRA endorsement solidifies the choice for this gun lover.
Sasha’s vote: Trump
Maggie: As an expectant mother, Maggie is a single issue voter. She wants to keep her healthcare so she can be sure the delivery and postnatal care are covered. With a lot of talk from Trump and Johnson about repealing the Affordable Care Act, she decides on the candidate who wants to keep the law.
Maggie’s vote: Clinton
Abraham: An ex military man, Abraham goes with the majority of his brothers and sisters in combat.
Abraham’s vote: Gary Johnson
Rosita: Still bitter over her recent breakup with Abraham, Rosita sticks with her fellow scorned woman.
Rosita’s vote: Clinton
Eugene: Being a man of science, Eugene openly rejects most of the republican platform and will not even consider voting for Trump. He also laughs off the notion of supporting anti-vaxxer Jill Stein. He likes Gary Johnson, but can’t resist all of the big government research money that another democratic administration is sure to bring.
Eugene’s vote: Clinton
This race is too close to call! Clinton and Trump are at a dead heat, with Johnson a very close third. Oops, it appears that all of the votes have not yet been tallied. Turns out Lori, Shane, Andrea, Tyreese, Beth, The Governor, Phillip, Bob, Hershel, Merle, and T-Dog have all voted democrat. Clinton wins in a landslide!
July 16, 2016
Going to Circle K for a B-52 Bomber
I was watching Meet the Press the other day when they went to a commercial break. Normally, I won’t watch any commercials, but my yellow lab mix, Homer, had jumped up on the couch to be next to me and his old ass fell asleep on the remote. I’m glad he did, because I got to see the greatest commercial ever! There were fireworks and fighter jets in this ad, as well as some American flags and talk of innovation, prosperity, and protecting the good old US of A from its enemies. Immediately, I wanted to support the company that had produced this ad. Since I needed smokes and beer, anyway, I thought I’d buy some of their stuff at the Circle K down the street while purchasing the products that would surely lead to my premature demise.
“Ian! What’s my favorite piece of eye candy doing here on his day off?” The store manager asked. “Is that girlfriend of yours out of town?” Despite the fact that I’ve previously explained to her that I don’t have any interest in sleeping with a married woman, she constantly makes sexually suggestive comments to me. It was fun for a minute, but got old quickly. I’m not a piece of meat, ladies!
“She’s at home waiting for me,” I replied, ignoring her salacious stare. I then explained the commercial on Meet the Press and told her I was curious if there were any of the company’s products for sale in the store.
“Maybe. What’s the name of the company?”
“Boeing,” I replied.
“Boeing? Like, the airplane company? This is a convenience store. You can’t buy an airplane here.”
“Obviously, but they must make other stuff. Why else would they run television ads?”
“True. Why don’t we find out what they sell. Then I could tell you if we have any of their stuff.”
That sounded like the right approach. I took out my phone and blushed, a little embarrassed that I hadn’t thought to investigate their product line before leaving the house. My old, slow phone was taking too long to pull up the Boeing web page, so the store manager took out her own phone, which had come out the previous day. Like a lot of po’ white trash, she always has the newest phone. She also lives in a dilapidated shit-hole, but drives a truck that’s worth about as much as my house.
She scrolled down their web page, looking up occasionally to ogle me and lick her lips. “Airplanes, fighter jets, attack helicopters, outer space stuff,” she muttered as she scrolled down the page. “Ian, we don’t have any of this stuff. None of this would even fit through our front door. You could try Walmart, but I’m pretty sure you won’t find any of this there, either. I think I’d remember seeing a fighter jet at Walmart, although I don’t go into the sporting goods section that much.”
I furrowed my brow, confused. “Why would they run commercials on television if they don’t have anything to sell to the general public? That makes zero sense.” Then, something occurred to me. It was a scary thought, but it was the only reasonable conclusion I could draw. “You know, when I watch the news, they’re always talking about our involvement in world affairs like it’s an absolute given. Sometimes, there’s some debate about the degree to which we should be involved, but never about whether we should or shouldn’t be. I hear the phrase ‘American interests in the region’ thrown around a lot, but no one ever asks exactly what those interests are. Defense contractors like Boeing make a ton of taxpayer dough off of our never-ending world policing. I wonder if they run the commercials as a sort of payola to help shape the narrative when these things are discussed. It would be a bad look if they just handed over a bunch of money, but no one would question ad revenue. Do you think that’s what it is? Are they buying a say in how these things are presented?”
She looked at me like she’d just smelled something rancid. “Who cares? Let’s go in the back room and you can take me to Pound Town.”
“Uh, I gotta go.” As I walked out the door, it occurred to me that I had forgotten my beer and smokes. Not wanting to go back inside, I went down the street to 7-11. While waiting on line, I gave a cursory glance around the store. They didn’t have any B-52 bombers, either.
“Ian! What’s my favorite piece of eye candy doing here on his day off?” The store manager asked. “Is that girlfriend of yours out of town?” Despite the fact that I’ve previously explained to her that I don’t have any interest in sleeping with a married woman, she constantly makes sexually suggestive comments to me. It was fun for a minute, but got old quickly. I’m not a piece of meat, ladies!
“She’s at home waiting for me,” I replied, ignoring her salacious stare. I then explained the commercial on Meet the Press and told her I was curious if there were any of the company’s products for sale in the store.
“Maybe. What’s the name of the company?”
“Boeing,” I replied.
“Boeing? Like, the airplane company? This is a convenience store. You can’t buy an airplane here.”
“Obviously, but they must make other stuff. Why else would they run television ads?”
“True. Why don’t we find out what they sell. Then I could tell you if we have any of their stuff.”
That sounded like the right approach. I took out my phone and blushed, a little embarrassed that I hadn’t thought to investigate their product line before leaving the house. My old, slow phone was taking too long to pull up the Boeing web page, so the store manager took out her own phone, which had come out the previous day. Like a lot of po’ white trash, she always has the newest phone. She also lives in a dilapidated shit-hole, but drives a truck that’s worth about as much as my house.
She scrolled down their web page, looking up occasionally to ogle me and lick her lips. “Airplanes, fighter jets, attack helicopters, outer space stuff,” she muttered as she scrolled down the page. “Ian, we don’t have any of this stuff. None of this would even fit through our front door. You could try Walmart, but I’m pretty sure you won’t find any of this there, either. I think I’d remember seeing a fighter jet at Walmart, although I don’t go into the sporting goods section that much.”
I furrowed my brow, confused. “Why would they run commercials on television if they don’t have anything to sell to the general public? That makes zero sense.” Then, something occurred to me. It was a scary thought, but it was the only reasonable conclusion I could draw. “You know, when I watch the news, they’re always talking about our involvement in world affairs like it’s an absolute given. Sometimes, there’s some debate about the degree to which we should be involved, but never about whether we should or shouldn’t be. I hear the phrase ‘American interests in the region’ thrown around a lot, but no one ever asks exactly what those interests are. Defense contractors like Boeing make a ton of taxpayer dough off of our never-ending world policing. I wonder if they run the commercials as a sort of payola to help shape the narrative when these things are discussed. It would be a bad look if they just handed over a bunch of money, but no one would question ad revenue. Do you think that’s what it is? Are they buying a say in how these things are presented?”
She looked at me like she’d just smelled something rancid. “Who cares? Let’s go in the back room and you can take me to Pound Town.”
“Uh, I gotta go.” As I walked out the door, it occurred to me that I had forgotten my beer and smokes. Not wanting to go back inside, I went down the street to 7-11. While waiting on line, I gave a cursory glance around the store. They didn’t have any B-52 bombers, either.
February 4, 2015
At Least You’re Not In Florida
Recently, much of The United States has been bombarded by one severe winter storm after the other. As conditions worsen, many people in the northernmost states have considered visiting or moving to a warmer climate. Obviously, the state of Florida is one possible destination for those seeking refuge from the brutal conditions they’ve been living under. Now, it’s not that we don’t want you here, and I like driving 32 in a 45 as much as the next guy, but let me tell you why that is a horrible idea.
Realtors and travel agents won’t tell you this, but Florida is a literal death trap! Millions of people visit the state every year. Only a small percentage of them make it out alive. Those of us who have lived here for many years have had to adapt to the ever worsening doomscape that we call home. What makes Florida such a terrible destination? There is a plethora of answers to that question. I could write an entire book on the subject. In the interest of public safety, I will only list some of the most horrific perils people face here everyday so that I may get this message out in a timely manner.
1. Alligators. It’s hard to believe that only a few years ago, the alligator was an endangered species in the state of Florida. The state went to great lengths to protect the animal, and their overzealous efforts proved to be disastrous. It’s become nearly impossible to go anywhere without encountering them. The short walk to my mailbox now resembles this scene in the James Bond film, Live and Let Die. Recently, my neighbor was leaving for work in the morning. When he started his car, an eight-footer jumped out from the back seat. He was lucky to survive the attack, but lost his right arm at the elbow and most of his head. Sadly, these sorts of attacks are become evermore commonplace.
2. Hurricanes. Yes, I know you only hear about a few hurricanes a year hitting the state of Florida, but that’s because they have become such a common occurrence that the media only reports on the most serious of them. During hurricane season, they are an almost daily occurrence. Even during the off season, we’re usually good for about one a week. Don’t believe me? Then why do you think I’m paying thousands of dollars every year for homeowners’ insurance? If the area that I live in was only hit by a major hurricane in, say 2004 and 1960, wouldn’t that be price gouging? Certainly, the state would step in and protect its citizens.
The hurricanes themselves are quite frightening, but what is even more horrific is that they often spawn tornadoes that pick up our ubiquitous alligator hoards and fling them into recently de-roofed homes. One moment, you’re trying to console your loved ones by telling them that things can be replaced and you’re all lucky to be alive. The next, a gatornado is hurling tons and tons of reptilian killing machine into your home to eat you and your family.
3. Gay Marriage. Yep, it’s legal here. You know what that means; your normal marriage is now null and void and you HAVE to marry someone of the same gender.
4. Cubans. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against Cuban folks. I love those pork and pickle sandwiches they make, the name of which escapes me. I don’t even have a problem with the law that gives them citizenship the second they step on U.S. soil, although I’m not sure why that’s a law for them and no one else. What I have a problem with is the Florida law that states that once they get into your house, you have to let them live there. I’m all for helping my fellow man, but I don’t want a bunch of strangers from a foreign country living in my home. This law has been particularly taxing on our elderly residents, who like bland food, dinner at 4:30. and bed at 7:15. Once the Cubans are in your home, it’s nothing but spicy food and all night salsa dancing. Do you like football and N.C.I.S.? Well, forget that. The only thing you’ll be watching from now on is soccer and Sabado Gigante.
5. Constant Harassment of the Elderly by Law Enforcement. Someone in Tallahassee got the idea in their head that octogenarians, nonagenarians, and centaurians shouldn’t be driving. Everywhere you go, police are pulling over older people and setting up traffic stops to make sure elderly drivers aren’t completely unaware of the reality that is going on all around them. Sure, many of them take copious amounts of prescription drugs, have severely delayed reaction times, and almost seem to actually be afraid to drive, but I still find this to be blatant and disgusting ageism. Law enforcement should put the same effort and resources into combating the real menace to our roadways; someone who just drank two beers.
Are you considering a trip or move to the sunshine state? I hope this post makes you seriously reconsider. If someone you care about is thinking along those same lines, please show this to them. You may very well save their life.
Realtors and travel agents won’t tell you this, but Florida is a literal death trap! Millions of people visit the state every year. Only a small percentage of them make it out alive. Those of us who have lived here for many years have had to adapt to the ever worsening doomscape that we call home. What makes Florida such a terrible destination? There is a plethora of answers to that question. I could write an entire book on the subject. In the interest of public safety, I will only list some of the most horrific perils people face here everyday so that I may get this message out in a timely manner.
1. Alligators. It’s hard to believe that only a few years ago, the alligator was an endangered species in the state of Florida. The state went to great lengths to protect the animal, and their overzealous efforts proved to be disastrous. It’s become nearly impossible to go anywhere without encountering them. The short walk to my mailbox now resembles this scene in the James Bond film, Live and Let Die. Recently, my neighbor was leaving for work in the morning. When he started his car, an eight-footer jumped out from the back seat. He was lucky to survive the attack, but lost his right arm at the elbow and most of his head. Sadly, these sorts of attacks are become evermore commonplace.
2. Hurricanes. Yes, I know you only hear about a few hurricanes a year hitting the state of Florida, but that’s because they have become such a common occurrence that the media only reports on the most serious of them. During hurricane season, they are an almost daily occurrence. Even during the off season, we’re usually good for about one a week. Don’t believe me? Then why do you think I’m paying thousands of dollars every year for homeowners’ insurance? If the area that I live in was only hit by a major hurricane in, say 2004 and 1960, wouldn’t that be price gouging? Certainly, the state would step in and protect its citizens.
The hurricanes themselves are quite frightening, but what is even more horrific is that they often spawn tornadoes that pick up our ubiquitous alligator hoards and fling them into recently de-roofed homes. One moment, you’re trying to console your loved ones by telling them that things can be replaced and you’re all lucky to be alive. The next, a gatornado is hurling tons and tons of reptilian killing machine into your home to eat you and your family.
3. Gay Marriage. Yep, it’s legal here. You know what that means; your normal marriage is now null and void and you HAVE to marry someone of the same gender.
4. Cubans. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against Cuban folks. I love those pork and pickle sandwiches they make, the name of which escapes me. I don’t even have a problem with the law that gives them citizenship the second they step on U.S. soil, although I’m not sure why that’s a law for them and no one else. What I have a problem with is the Florida law that states that once they get into your house, you have to let them live there. I’m all for helping my fellow man, but I don’t want a bunch of strangers from a foreign country living in my home. This law has been particularly taxing on our elderly residents, who like bland food, dinner at 4:30. and bed at 7:15. Once the Cubans are in your home, it’s nothing but spicy food and all night salsa dancing. Do you like football and N.C.I.S.? Well, forget that. The only thing you’ll be watching from now on is soccer and Sabado Gigante.
5. Constant Harassment of the Elderly by Law Enforcement. Someone in Tallahassee got the idea in their head that octogenarians, nonagenarians, and centaurians shouldn’t be driving. Everywhere you go, police are pulling over older people and setting up traffic stops to make sure elderly drivers aren’t completely unaware of the reality that is going on all around them. Sure, many of them take copious amounts of prescription drugs, have severely delayed reaction times, and almost seem to actually be afraid to drive, but I still find this to be blatant and disgusting ageism. Law enforcement should put the same effort and resources into combating the real menace to our roadways; someone who just drank two beers.
Are you considering a trip or move to the sunshine state? I hope this post makes you seriously reconsider. If someone you care about is thinking along those same lines, please show this to them. You may very well save their life.
November 16, 2014
An Unattractive Person Attempted To Do Something Beautiful, What Happened Next Will Shock You If You're A Vapid Douche
Have you seen these articles with the vague headlines out there in social media land? You know the ones, “This Guy Went to the Store for Beer, What Happened Next Will Break Your Heart” or “A Woman Went Into a Public Toilet, You’ll be Shocked by What Happened Next.” I stopped reading them, because I was rarely shocked or heartbroken by their content. Besides being misleading, I noticed that a few of them were really offensive. They’d show a picture of someone who was a little (or maybe a lot) on the homely side (or maybe overweight, or disabled, or some combination of those things) about to do perform some act that has nothing to do with their appearance, or girth, or disability. “This Woman Wanted to Sing In Front of a Crowd, You’ll be Amazed By What Happened.” There’s a video to go along. The woman walks up to the microphone and clears her throat. People look on skeptically, knowing that some horrible sound will escape her once she opens her mouth. Instead, the woman starts to sing, and it is wonderful. How can that be? How can someone who isn’t thin and attractive sing so beautifully? Some folks might find this hard to believe, but it’s because one has nothing to do with the other. The headline might as well read, “A Deaf Dude Tried to Cook Macaroni and Cheese, You’ll be Blown Away by What Happened.” If the end result is that he is able to make the macaroni and cheese, I won’t be blown away. His disability doesn’t have the slightest effect on his culinary skills, just like being a little fat or ugly doesn’t mean someone can’t sing a song, dance, play an instrument, or paint a picture really well.
How did we get to the point of putting so much value on a person’s appearance. Sure, sex sells, and it always did. We’ve always been kind of hung up on looks, but not so much that we viewed unattractiveness as a sort of physical handicap that leaves someone incapable of talent. I think it started back in the 80’s when video allegedly killed the radio star (no formal charges were ever filed). Suddenly, it wasn’t enough to be talented. You also had to be photogenic. Through the years, more and more of the focus went to style over substance. Eventually, the music industry became more about looks than musical talent.
It isn’t just the music industry, either. Attractive people with the same skill sets are more likely to land a job than their less appealing looking counterparts. Being a great actor doesn’t get you any acting gigs, and being a talented athlete might get you a contract with a professional sport franchise, but it won’t get you any endorsements, which is where the real money is. This not only happens on a pro level with adults, but it also happens at the lowest levels of competition, with children being subjected to this beauty bias. Recently, my fiancé went to a friend’s home to help her daughter do her hair and makeup for a gymnastic competition.
“Why?” I asked her.
“Her mom isn’t great with that stuff,” she told me.
“No. You misunderstood the question. I meant, why does a nine year old need to have her hair and makeup done for an athletic competition? Is it Toddlers and Tiaras with a balance beam?”
“She’s eleven, and I don’t know why. I guess they get judged on that stuff. You know, that doesn’t really seem right when you put it like that.”
Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe it seems wrong when you stop and think about it, but it happens so early and so often that most of us never do. We’re used to it. It’s accepted. Are little girls at gymnastic competitions being judged more on their looks than whether they can stick a landing or not? Technically, I doubt it. Realistically, maybe subconsciously, I’m sure of it. This is where it starts, and this is where it can, hopefully, end. Let’s stop turning everything into a beauty pageant, especially when it involves children. Maybe they’ll grow up to be the ones that reverse this awful trend, and put art back in the hands of the most capable artists, instead of the most attractive ones.
How did we get to the point of putting so much value on a person’s appearance. Sure, sex sells, and it always did. We’ve always been kind of hung up on looks, but not so much that we viewed unattractiveness as a sort of physical handicap that leaves someone incapable of talent. I think it started back in the 80’s when video allegedly killed the radio star (no formal charges were ever filed). Suddenly, it wasn’t enough to be talented. You also had to be photogenic. Through the years, more and more of the focus went to style over substance. Eventually, the music industry became more about looks than musical talent.
It isn’t just the music industry, either. Attractive people with the same skill sets are more likely to land a job than their less appealing looking counterparts. Being a great actor doesn’t get you any acting gigs, and being a talented athlete might get you a contract with a professional sport franchise, but it won’t get you any endorsements, which is where the real money is. This not only happens on a pro level with adults, but it also happens at the lowest levels of competition, with children being subjected to this beauty bias. Recently, my fiancé went to a friend’s home to help her daughter do her hair and makeup for a gymnastic competition.
“Why?” I asked her.
“Her mom isn’t great with that stuff,” she told me.
“No. You misunderstood the question. I meant, why does a nine year old need to have her hair and makeup done for an athletic competition? Is it Toddlers and Tiaras with a balance beam?”
“She’s eleven, and I don’t know why. I guess they get judged on that stuff. You know, that doesn’t really seem right when you put it like that.”
Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe it seems wrong when you stop and think about it, but it happens so early and so often that most of us never do. We’re used to it. It’s accepted. Are little girls at gymnastic competitions being judged more on their looks than whether they can stick a landing or not? Technically, I doubt it. Realistically, maybe subconsciously, I’m sure of it. This is where it starts, and this is where it can, hopefully, end. Let’s stop turning everything into a beauty pageant, especially when it involves children. Maybe they’ll grow up to be the ones that reverse this awful trend, and put art back in the hands of the most capable artists, instead of the most attractive ones.
July 8, 2014
Catching the Hypothetical Killer in a Murder that Might Have Maybe Happened
This past holiday weekend, I was driving home from a barbeque/amateur pyrotechnics show when I was stopped at a police roadblock. Having nothing to hide, I rolled down my window and asked the closest officer what was going on. He didn’t answer my question, but asked one of his own.
“Do you have any dead bodies in your vehicle, sir?”
I chuckled, assuming the bizarre question to be some sort of morbid cop-humor.
“You find something funny about murder investigations?”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. I wasn’t trying to make light of the situation, I just didn’t realize what the situation was. If they were investigating a murder, then why were they bothering me? Was I a suspect? Did the cop even know who I was?
“Sorry, officer. I uh…” Confused, I hesitated a little and searched for the right thing to say. The officer I was speaking to mistook this for some sort of confession of guilt.
“You sure there aren’t any bodies in your vehicle? Maybe you should pop the trunk.”
“What? This is a pickup truck. It doesn’t have a trunk.” I was telling the truth. My Dodge Dakota came with a lot of options. A trunk wasn’t one of them, though.
The cop leered at me as his hand caressed the butt of his pistol. “I see. Don’t want to cooperate? Well, I guess we’ll have to get the dogs over here.”
I started to get very irate. “Dogs? Hold on a God damn minute, now! Am I being detained? Am I under arrest or something?”
“Oh, you must be a lawyer. You sure don’t look like a lawyer,” he said with obvious disgust.
“I’m not an attorney. I’m a truck driver.” I left the fact that I’m also an author out of the conversation. For some reason, I don’t think he would have asked for my autograph. “Look, why don’t you just tell me what happened? Am I a suspect in something? Was someone murdered?”
“Why don’t you tell me, Mr. Truck Driver? Who’d you kill? Why’d you do it?”
I opened my mouth and shook my head. I was beyond flabbergasted. I’m not a detective, but I do know that every second is crucial in the beginning of a murder investigation. The more time goes by, the less likely it is that a killer will be brought to justice.
“I don’t understand. If someone has been killed, why are you guys wasting time like this?”
“Well, we don’t know that someone has been killed. We’re fairly certain that someone is going to kill somebody tonight, though. We don’t have any evidence to back that up, or any leads, or even the faintest idea of who will be killed or who will kill them. We’re just pulling people over and interrogating them.”
I was shocked. This sounded more like something that was done in China or Saudi Arabia or the most evil of all evil countries, Cuba. Well, I’m guessing Cuba to be the most evil of all evil countries. I’m just going off of our trade policies.
“That sounds like a complete and utter violation of everyone’s rights. What about probable cause? What about the fourth amendment?” I asked incredulously.
The cop’s hand hovered between his stun gun and can of mace as if he couldn’t decide which would be the right one to use. “You’re sure you ain’t a lawyer? You kind of sound like a lawyer, even if you don’t look like one.”
I sighed and shook my head. “No, I am not an attorney. I have one, though, and I think I’ll be calling him Monday morning.”
The conversation went on pointlessly for a few more minutes before I was “allowed” to leave. It really made me think, though. Is this what our country has become? Can we really just be pulled over en masse because someone, somewhere might be committing a crime? Doesn’t an American have the right to just drive down the road without being harassed by police who are too lazy to do actual police work? Sure, crimes are being committed. I’m not the one committing them, though, so why am I being bothered. Get out on the street and look for clues. Don’t detain innocent people who are just going about their business. That’s what they do in Cuba. I think.
“Do you have any dead bodies in your vehicle, sir?”
I chuckled, assuming the bizarre question to be some sort of morbid cop-humor.
“You find something funny about murder investigations?”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. I wasn’t trying to make light of the situation, I just didn’t realize what the situation was. If they were investigating a murder, then why were they bothering me? Was I a suspect? Did the cop even know who I was?
“Sorry, officer. I uh…” Confused, I hesitated a little and searched for the right thing to say. The officer I was speaking to mistook this for some sort of confession of guilt.
“You sure there aren’t any bodies in your vehicle? Maybe you should pop the trunk.”
“What? This is a pickup truck. It doesn’t have a trunk.” I was telling the truth. My Dodge Dakota came with a lot of options. A trunk wasn’t one of them, though.
The cop leered at me as his hand caressed the butt of his pistol. “I see. Don’t want to cooperate? Well, I guess we’ll have to get the dogs over here.”
I started to get very irate. “Dogs? Hold on a God damn minute, now! Am I being detained? Am I under arrest or something?”
“Oh, you must be a lawyer. You sure don’t look like a lawyer,” he said with obvious disgust.
“I’m not an attorney. I’m a truck driver.” I left the fact that I’m also an author out of the conversation. For some reason, I don’t think he would have asked for my autograph. “Look, why don’t you just tell me what happened? Am I a suspect in something? Was someone murdered?”
“Why don’t you tell me, Mr. Truck Driver? Who’d you kill? Why’d you do it?”
I opened my mouth and shook my head. I was beyond flabbergasted. I’m not a detective, but I do know that every second is crucial in the beginning of a murder investigation. The more time goes by, the less likely it is that a killer will be brought to justice.
“I don’t understand. If someone has been killed, why are you guys wasting time like this?”
“Well, we don’t know that someone has been killed. We’re fairly certain that someone is going to kill somebody tonight, though. We don’t have any evidence to back that up, or any leads, or even the faintest idea of who will be killed or who will kill them. We’re just pulling people over and interrogating them.”
I was shocked. This sounded more like something that was done in China or Saudi Arabia or the most evil of all evil countries, Cuba. Well, I’m guessing Cuba to be the most evil of all evil countries. I’m just going off of our trade policies.
“That sounds like a complete and utter violation of everyone’s rights. What about probable cause? What about the fourth amendment?” I asked incredulously.
The cop’s hand hovered between his stun gun and can of mace as if he couldn’t decide which would be the right one to use. “You’re sure you ain’t a lawyer? You kind of sound like a lawyer, even if you don’t look like one.”
I sighed and shook my head. “No, I am not an attorney. I have one, though, and I think I’ll be calling him Monday morning.”
The conversation went on pointlessly for a few more minutes before I was “allowed” to leave. It really made me think, though. Is this what our country has become? Can we really just be pulled over en masse because someone, somewhere might be committing a crime? Doesn’t an American have the right to just drive down the road without being harassed by police who are too lazy to do actual police work? Sure, crimes are being committed. I’m not the one committing them, though, so why am I being bothered. Get out on the street and look for clues. Don’t detain innocent people who are just going about their business. That’s what they do in Cuba. I think.
July 1, 2014
Whatever Happened to Pride?
There’s been a lot of turnover where I work in the last year or so. For some reason, most of our new hires have been guys in their early or mid twenties. It’s a very physically demanding job, and that seems to be a big problem for a lot of these dudes. I just turned thirty-seven, which isn’t really old, but I definitely feel a big difference between what I was able to do at that age and what I’m able to do now. Oddly enough, though, most of these younger guys that I’ve had the opportunity to work with aren’t able to do what I do now, much less what I did then. When I was in my early twenties, I would have taken it to heart if some guy who was pushing forty was working circles around me. I might not have been able to catch up, but I damn sure would have tried. Maybe it’s because I never got a participation trophy for anything when I was a kid.
I don’t think a little pride is such a bad thing. I know it’s one of the seven deadly sins, but I think we could use some more of it in America. Not only are a lot of folks lacking it, but we seem to idolize and reward people who clearly don’t have any idea what pride even is. Television has become a cesspool overflowing with people who care little about how much they degrade themselves as human beings as long as they get to say they are on TV. They wear their ignorance and lack of self-respect like they are medals of honor, and the American public puts them on pedestals.
Of course, there’s a connection to writing in all of this. I haven’t been in the writing business for all that long, but I’m starting to see more of a lack of pride in my fellow authors when it comes to marketing their books. I understand that we are all always looking for more exposure, but it’s not always appropriate to expose yourself. I’ve seen authors whip their work out in places that, clearly, were not appropriate places to self-promote.
“This picture of your son’s wedding really reminds me of the wedding scene in my book…”
“Good luck with the operation. If you need something to pass the time during your hospital stay, here’s my Amazon link…”
“I’m so sorry about that death in your family. The happy ending in my latest…”
You get the idea. Maybe you will sell a couple of books that way, but you’re selling your pride along with them. We’ve all seen it, and most of us have cringed. You shouldn’t jump on other people’s moments to promote yourself, even when it’s another author. Recently, I was on a blog tour for authors who had written zombie books. It was a lot of fun and a great experience. When the tour was over, one of the authors put together a list on Goodreads that was for books that the thirty-two authors on the tour had written. Inside of a couple of hours, several other authors had thrown their own work onto the list. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I saw a few of them on different social media venues campaigning for people to vote for their books so that they would have better placement on the list. Really, folks? You know, we all have our own promotional things going on all the time. Most of us wind up working with each other at some point or another. Hell, most of us are actually just pretty cool and like to help and promote each other when we can. So, why jump on someone else’s shit when it’s clearly just not the right time to expose yourself? Do a couple of extra book sales really mean that much to you? Try to have a little pride.
I don’t think a little pride is such a bad thing. I know it’s one of the seven deadly sins, but I think we could use some more of it in America. Not only are a lot of folks lacking it, but we seem to idolize and reward people who clearly don’t have any idea what pride even is. Television has become a cesspool overflowing with people who care little about how much they degrade themselves as human beings as long as they get to say they are on TV. They wear their ignorance and lack of self-respect like they are medals of honor, and the American public puts them on pedestals.
Of course, there’s a connection to writing in all of this. I haven’t been in the writing business for all that long, but I’m starting to see more of a lack of pride in my fellow authors when it comes to marketing their books. I understand that we are all always looking for more exposure, but it’s not always appropriate to expose yourself. I’ve seen authors whip their work out in places that, clearly, were not appropriate places to self-promote.
“This picture of your son’s wedding really reminds me of the wedding scene in my book…”
“Good luck with the operation. If you need something to pass the time during your hospital stay, here’s my Amazon link…”
“I’m so sorry about that death in your family. The happy ending in my latest…”
You get the idea. Maybe you will sell a couple of books that way, but you’re selling your pride along with them. We’ve all seen it, and most of us have cringed. You shouldn’t jump on other people’s moments to promote yourself, even when it’s another author. Recently, I was on a blog tour for authors who had written zombie books. It was a lot of fun and a great experience. When the tour was over, one of the authors put together a list on Goodreads that was for books that the thirty-two authors on the tour had written. Inside of a couple of hours, several other authors had thrown their own work onto the list. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I saw a few of them on different social media venues campaigning for people to vote for their books so that they would have better placement on the list. Really, folks? You know, we all have our own promotional things going on all the time. Most of us wind up working with each other at some point or another. Hell, most of us are actually just pretty cool and like to help and promote each other when we can. So, why jump on someone else’s shit when it’s clearly just not the right time to expose yourself? Do a couple of extra book sales really mean that much to you? Try to have a little pride.
June 8, 2014
Moms' Reviews and Sudoku Puzzles
I don’t have a great relationship with my family. After many years of doing everything I could for them and getting nothing in return, except shit on, I decided to stop helping. We still talked, but I started getting a lot less calls from them when they realized I wasn’t bailing them out (literally or figuratively) anymore. This went on for a while, until a few years ago, when I went through a horrible personal tragedy. I spent a few months drinking as much as I could and thinking about killing myself every second that I was awake. A few of the people in clan McClellan did the bare minimum to be supportive of me during that dark time in my life. Most did less.
I’ve heard a lot of people speak negatively about book reviews from friends and family. I don’t really see the problem. Did you write a book? Did your mother leave you a review on Amazon? Good for you! I don’t have any reviews from my mother. When I told her that I had self-published a book about zombies, she acted like I had told her I made an amateur pornographic movie. When I told her my second zombie novel was going to be published by Severed Press, she acted like I had told her I’d just made a professional pornographic movie. She hasn’t read either of my books. No one in my family has. None of them have given me any reviews, either. Of course, if I ever make any real money as a writer, it will be because of their tireless efforts to support me and their constant encouragement and hey, where’s my cut? I do have a couple of friends’ reviews on my first book, but nothing from my family.
There’s a lot of talk about negative reviews and bullying and that sort of thing these days. People are pretty passionate about the subject. There are a lot of folks who go to great lengths to defend the rights of reviewers to leave negative reviews, whether the reviewer finished the book, or even read the first page. I’ve noticed, though, that a lot of those same people are the ones who will trash your reviews from friends and family. Personally, I’m a big fan of freedom of speech. Everyone should be allowed to give their opinion, no matter how well or ill informed they are on the subject. Saying that someone has to read an entire book from start to finish in order to be able to give their opinion is like saying that someone needs to be completely knowledgeable of every issue before they are allowed to vote. Ideally, yes, that would be how it would work, but that’s not the way it is in a free society. If you disagree, let me ask you this: Are you a conservative? Do you have an opinion on a book that you haven’t read? Maybe one by Michael Moore or Noam Chomsky? How about the liberals reading this? Same question, but say the book is by Ted Nugent or Bill O’Reilly. I’ll bet there’s a book out there that you haven’t read but you have an opinion on. That’s okay, though, because you’re entitled to your opinion. Conversely, just as someone who didn’t finish a book is entitled to their opinion on it, so is the author’s mother, or sister, or BFF, or anyone else that the author knows.
I don’t have a great support system like a lot of authors getting started do. I barely have ties with my family, and only have enough real friends in the non-virtual world to count on one hand and have fingers left over. I do have some friends on Facebook and Goodreads, but having internet friends is kind of a new concept to me. If you have a really supportive bunch of family and friends that want to read your book and leave their honest opinion of it on a website, there’s nothing wrong with that. Is their opinion somewhat skewed because they know you? Of course it is! That’s okay, though. It’s still their opinion and they are still entitled to it. News networks are allowed to give their skewed opinions, why can’t an author’s mom?
Let me tell you about a little obsession of mine. I love to do puzzles. All kinds of puzzles, but Sudoku puzzles in particular. If I start one, I HAVE to finish it, or something really bad will happen. I don’t know what this horrible occurrence will be, or why I think it will take place, I just know that if someone calls when I’m in the middle of one, I have to call them back later. Even the hardest Sudoku puzzles have a few gimmes. You don’t have to take them, but solving the puzzle without them is going to be exponentially harder than it should be. Life is hard enough already. Take the gimmes. Selling books is hard. There’s nothing wrong with taking a few gimme reviews, as long as they’re honest reviews. If your mom isn’t ashamed of what you do, and wants to leave a review for your book, she absolutely should, and you shouldn’t feel the least bit embarrassed about it. While she’s at it, maybe you could get her to review One Undead Step , too!
I’ve heard a lot of people speak negatively about book reviews from friends and family. I don’t really see the problem. Did you write a book? Did your mother leave you a review on Amazon? Good for you! I don’t have any reviews from my mother. When I told her that I had self-published a book about zombies, she acted like I had told her I made an amateur pornographic movie. When I told her my second zombie novel was going to be published by Severed Press, she acted like I had told her I’d just made a professional pornographic movie. She hasn’t read either of my books. No one in my family has. None of them have given me any reviews, either. Of course, if I ever make any real money as a writer, it will be because of their tireless efforts to support me and their constant encouragement and hey, where’s my cut? I do have a couple of friends’ reviews on my first book, but nothing from my family.
There’s a lot of talk about negative reviews and bullying and that sort of thing these days. People are pretty passionate about the subject. There are a lot of folks who go to great lengths to defend the rights of reviewers to leave negative reviews, whether the reviewer finished the book, or even read the first page. I’ve noticed, though, that a lot of those same people are the ones who will trash your reviews from friends and family. Personally, I’m a big fan of freedom of speech. Everyone should be allowed to give their opinion, no matter how well or ill informed they are on the subject. Saying that someone has to read an entire book from start to finish in order to be able to give their opinion is like saying that someone needs to be completely knowledgeable of every issue before they are allowed to vote. Ideally, yes, that would be how it would work, but that’s not the way it is in a free society. If you disagree, let me ask you this: Are you a conservative? Do you have an opinion on a book that you haven’t read? Maybe one by Michael Moore or Noam Chomsky? How about the liberals reading this? Same question, but say the book is by Ted Nugent or Bill O’Reilly. I’ll bet there’s a book out there that you haven’t read but you have an opinion on. That’s okay, though, because you’re entitled to your opinion. Conversely, just as someone who didn’t finish a book is entitled to their opinion on it, so is the author’s mother, or sister, or BFF, or anyone else that the author knows.
I don’t have a great support system like a lot of authors getting started do. I barely have ties with my family, and only have enough real friends in the non-virtual world to count on one hand and have fingers left over. I do have some friends on Facebook and Goodreads, but having internet friends is kind of a new concept to me. If you have a really supportive bunch of family and friends that want to read your book and leave their honest opinion of it on a website, there’s nothing wrong with that. Is their opinion somewhat skewed because they know you? Of course it is! That’s okay, though. It’s still their opinion and they are still entitled to it. News networks are allowed to give their skewed opinions, why can’t an author’s mom?
Let me tell you about a little obsession of mine. I love to do puzzles. All kinds of puzzles, but Sudoku puzzles in particular. If I start one, I HAVE to finish it, or something really bad will happen. I don’t know what this horrible occurrence will be, or why I think it will take place, I just know that if someone calls when I’m in the middle of one, I have to call them back later. Even the hardest Sudoku puzzles have a few gimmes. You don’t have to take them, but solving the puzzle without them is going to be exponentially harder than it should be. Life is hard enough already. Take the gimmes. Selling books is hard. There’s nothing wrong with taking a few gimme reviews, as long as they’re honest reviews. If your mom isn’t ashamed of what you do, and wants to leave a review for your book, she absolutely should, and you shouldn’t feel the least bit embarrassed about it. While she’s at it, maybe you could get her to review One Undead Step , too!
May 15, 2014
Rocky Horror Walker Show
I decided to rewrite The Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack and make it about The Walking Dead. This is part one.
http://www.zombie-guide.com/rocky-horror-walker-show-part-1-2-maybe-3/
http://www.zombie-guide.com/rocky-horror-walker-show-part-1-2-maybe-3/
April 22, 2014
Best Week Ever!
The last week or so has been really epic for me. To a well-established author, the cumulative events of my week might amount to one so-so day, but to someone of little consequence, like myself, they added up to the best week ever!
I had a couple of glowing reviews for One Undead Step come in on Amazon and Goodreads. If the reviewers were just your everyday, average readers, that would have been fantastic. I always appreciate when people take the time to read and review my work, whether the reviews glow or not. What made these particular reviews so great, however, was the fact that they were both from authors who I respect and admire greatly. Within about a day of each other, both Chris Philbrook and Michael W. Garza had left five-star reviews for my second novel. Many thanks to both of you! Not for liking the book, although I’m very glad you did, but for picking it up in the first place.
The day after the second review came out, one of the writers from Possessions: A Collection of Short Stories About the Abject Horror of Ordinary Objects, which is an anthology from Burnt Offerings Books that I was lucky enough to be a part of, told me that one of his Instagram followers was impressed that he was in a book with me. I asked him if maybe he’d mistaken me for Ian McKellen, because I get that a lot. Surprisingly, the answer was no. Sure enough, the person was talking about yours truly. How cool is that?
But wait, there’s more! I also got a Twitter follow from a huge author who writes in my genre. Then, one more five-star review on Amazon from Jeff Clare. Jeff isn’t an author, but he is a great guy who is very active and well-known in the zombie community. To top it all off, someone nominated One Undead Step for the May book of the month read in the Zombies group on Goodreads. It’s a large and active group, and it is very cool to be nominated even if the early polls only have me at one vote out of twenty-four (thank you nice lady with the basset hound profile picture!) In the lead- Chris Philbrook’s Dark Recollections.
Of course, there is a downside to all of this awesomeness. After Jeff’s review posted, I went into my living room and grabbed my favorite hat. Putting it on, I realized that it no longer fit. My head had gotten too big. It’s okay, though. I’m pretty sure the folks at Swank Magazine will send me another hat when I renew my subscription.
I had a couple of glowing reviews for One Undead Step come in on Amazon and Goodreads. If the reviewers were just your everyday, average readers, that would have been fantastic. I always appreciate when people take the time to read and review my work, whether the reviews glow or not. What made these particular reviews so great, however, was the fact that they were both from authors who I respect and admire greatly. Within about a day of each other, both Chris Philbrook and Michael W. Garza had left five-star reviews for my second novel. Many thanks to both of you! Not for liking the book, although I’m very glad you did, but for picking it up in the first place.
The day after the second review came out, one of the writers from Possessions: A Collection of Short Stories About the Abject Horror of Ordinary Objects, which is an anthology from Burnt Offerings Books that I was lucky enough to be a part of, told me that one of his Instagram followers was impressed that he was in a book with me. I asked him if maybe he’d mistaken me for Ian McKellen, because I get that a lot. Surprisingly, the answer was no. Sure enough, the person was talking about yours truly. How cool is that?
But wait, there’s more! I also got a Twitter follow from a huge author who writes in my genre. Then, one more five-star review on Amazon from Jeff Clare. Jeff isn’t an author, but he is a great guy who is very active and well-known in the zombie community. To top it all off, someone nominated One Undead Step for the May book of the month read in the Zombies group on Goodreads. It’s a large and active group, and it is very cool to be nominated even if the early polls only have me at one vote out of twenty-four (thank you nice lady with the basset hound profile picture!) In the lead- Chris Philbrook’s Dark Recollections.
Of course, there is a downside to all of this awesomeness. After Jeff’s review posted, I went into my living room and grabbed my favorite hat. Putting it on, I realized that it no longer fit. My head had gotten too big. It’s okay, though. I’m pretty sure the folks at Swank Magazine will send me another hat when I renew my subscription.
March 10, 2014
Mirror: A Terrifying Tale of Terror by Ian McClellan
Strange things had been happening since the day Janice and Bill moved into their new house. They were little things. Nothing was grand-scale, mind-blowing, bleeding walls and talking televisions stuff, but it was unnerving all the same. Electronic devices turned off and on at all hours of the night, knickknacks were rearranged, plates and glasses mysteriously fell off tables and counters- all unsettling and inconvenient occurrences, but not horrifying. Making matters worse for Janice was the fact that Bill had started following her around with “that damn video recorder” during every waking moment. “What are you hoping to accomplish?” she’d asked him on the second day. “Do you know how many thousands upon thousands of people have spent years trying to get video proof of ghosts and have come up with nothing? If they wanted to be on camera, someone would have gotten footage already.”
Unfortunately, Bill failed to see the logic and continued his documentarian delusion. Fortunately, he left for work over an hour before Janice. She enjoyed her “off-air” time immensely and usually spent that hour with a good zombie book. One Thursday morning she was enjoying it a little too much and realized that she should have left the house fifteen minutes earlier. She rushed around cursing while she put on shoes and grabbed her keys and purse. Her hand was on the doorknob when it occurred too her that she hadn’t brushed her teeth.
“What’s another two minutes,” she told herself as she turned around and headed for the bathroom. She’d always been big on the two minute rule.
As she brushed her teeth she looked herself over in the mirror. She could still pass for a woman in her late twenties, despite being in her mid thirties. She and Bill, with his chiseled jaw and six-pack abs, would have very attractive children someday, she hoped. First, they needed to do something about the weird stuff that was going on in the house.
Why do these things only seem to happen to attractive people, she wondered to herself. Why don’t ghosts ever haunt fat, ugly people? Is that a kind of discrimination? Should someone start a class-action lawsuit?
She rinsed and turned to leave. As she did, a hellish, demon-looking thingy appeared in the mirror behind her in a sudden manner that would have really scared the bejesus out of Janice if she’d been looking. It had the features of a woman, but was all gnarly and busted looking, kind of like Linda Blair toward the end of Poltergeist or Michele Bachmann without her make-up team. It glared hatefully at Janice, who realized that she hadn’t put the cap back on the toothpaste and turned around suddenly. She didn’t like it when things were out of place and order, which was why she really hated when her knickknacks got rearranged.
The hellish, demon-looking thingy jumped a little at this unexpected turn of events. “Shit,” it cried out in its hellish, demon-sounding voice and began to fade away.
“Whoa. Whoa,” Janice cried out as she stepped toward the mirror.
It reappeared. “What? I have things to do.”
“You have things to do? Wait- we’ll get back to that. Why are you in my mirror?”
“I like to hide in here. I jump out whenever you turn around. It’s really scary.”
Janice pondered this for a second. A perplexed look came across her face. “Really scary to who? If I don’t see you do it, who are you scaring?”
“The movie-going audience,” the hellish demon-looking thingy told her as if it were talking to a complete idiot. “Duh!”
“You realize that makes no sense? None whatsoever.”
“Have you read this script? Nothing makes sense,” it replied.
“Hey,” Janice shot back indignantly. “My cousin wrote this script.”
“Well, okay, that makes sense,” the hellish demon-looking thingy said with a big, demony smile.
Janice felt like she’d been slapped. A look of shock and pain came across her face. “Wow. That was really mean.”
“Helooooo,” it said as it pointed to itself. “Demon. Demons are pretty mean.”
“Fine. So you’ve hurt my feelings and broken a bunch of dishes. Would you mind leaving now, or do I have to go hire a demonologist?”
“Noooooooo,” it howled. “Not a demonologist. Please, anything but that.” The demon started laughing and doubled over, disappearing from Janice’s view. She grabbed the sink and stood up on her toes in an effort to see it. It popped back up, laughing and wiping tears from its eyes. Janice jumped back and it laughed harder. “Demonologist. Man, that always gets me. Where do you get a doctorate in demonology? Go out and hire a unicorn farrier while you’re at it. What a schmuck.”
“I could go get a priest, but we’re not very religious. Bill and I talked about that option.”
“Not very religious? You’re talking to a demon. Doesn’t that make you want to find religion? Doesn’t being in the presence of proof of an afterlife make you an instant convert? How thick are you?”
“Okay. I’m late for work and this conversation is pointless. I have to go. I’ll assume you’ll still be here when I get back, but could you at least not mess with my stuff. I work very hard to keep this place straight.”
“For starters- I can’t promise that. I’m a demon and it’s my job to screw with you. More importantly…” the demon smiled, exposing rows of really scary looking, razor-sharp teeth. “…what makes you think that I’ll just let you leave?”
Janice took a step backward, but the door slammed shut behind her. “Please,” was all she managed to say as the demon crawled out from inside the mirror. Still smiling, it raised its hands. As they made contact with Janice, they began to disappear inside her body. When the demon was in up to its elbows, Janice began to scream.
“Oh God, this is so painful. Get out of me,” Janice begged.
The demon laughed. “Never heard you say that to Bill. You mostly look bored when you’re being entered.”
“Man, you are such a cunt. Are all demons like this?”
“Well, I am good at what I do,” the demon replied, beaming. “I take pride in my work.”
Once the demon was fully absorbed into her, Janice could hear its thoughts. They were muffled, though. There was an excruciating pain in her soul that drowned out all other sensation.
This is going to be a little uncomfortable at first, but don’t worry, it gets much worse, the demon thought-said to her. Now, let’s go wait for Bill to get home.
Unfortunately, Bill failed to see the logic and continued his documentarian delusion. Fortunately, he left for work over an hour before Janice. She enjoyed her “off-air” time immensely and usually spent that hour with a good zombie book. One Thursday morning she was enjoying it a little too much and realized that she should have left the house fifteen minutes earlier. She rushed around cursing while she put on shoes and grabbed her keys and purse. Her hand was on the doorknob when it occurred too her that she hadn’t brushed her teeth.
“What’s another two minutes,” she told herself as she turned around and headed for the bathroom. She’d always been big on the two minute rule.
As she brushed her teeth she looked herself over in the mirror. She could still pass for a woman in her late twenties, despite being in her mid thirties. She and Bill, with his chiseled jaw and six-pack abs, would have very attractive children someday, she hoped. First, they needed to do something about the weird stuff that was going on in the house.
Why do these things only seem to happen to attractive people, she wondered to herself. Why don’t ghosts ever haunt fat, ugly people? Is that a kind of discrimination? Should someone start a class-action lawsuit?
She rinsed and turned to leave. As she did, a hellish, demon-looking thingy appeared in the mirror behind her in a sudden manner that would have really scared the bejesus out of Janice if she’d been looking. It had the features of a woman, but was all gnarly and busted looking, kind of like Linda Blair toward the end of Poltergeist or Michele Bachmann without her make-up team. It glared hatefully at Janice, who realized that she hadn’t put the cap back on the toothpaste and turned around suddenly. She didn’t like it when things were out of place and order, which was why she really hated when her knickknacks got rearranged.
The hellish, demon-looking thingy jumped a little at this unexpected turn of events. “Shit,” it cried out in its hellish, demon-sounding voice and began to fade away.
“Whoa. Whoa,” Janice cried out as she stepped toward the mirror.
It reappeared. “What? I have things to do.”
“You have things to do? Wait- we’ll get back to that. Why are you in my mirror?”
“I like to hide in here. I jump out whenever you turn around. It’s really scary.”
Janice pondered this for a second. A perplexed look came across her face. “Really scary to who? If I don’t see you do it, who are you scaring?”
“The movie-going audience,” the hellish demon-looking thingy told her as if it were talking to a complete idiot. “Duh!”
“You realize that makes no sense? None whatsoever.”
“Have you read this script? Nothing makes sense,” it replied.
“Hey,” Janice shot back indignantly. “My cousin wrote this script.”
“Well, okay, that makes sense,” the hellish demon-looking thingy said with a big, demony smile.
Janice felt like she’d been slapped. A look of shock and pain came across her face. “Wow. That was really mean.”
“Helooooo,” it said as it pointed to itself. “Demon. Demons are pretty mean.”
“Fine. So you’ve hurt my feelings and broken a bunch of dishes. Would you mind leaving now, or do I have to go hire a demonologist?”
“Noooooooo,” it howled. “Not a demonologist. Please, anything but that.” The demon started laughing and doubled over, disappearing from Janice’s view. She grabbed the sink and stood up on her toes in an effort to see it. It popped back up, laughing and wiping tears from its eyes. Janice jumped back and it laughed harder. “Demonologist. Man, that always gets me. Where do you get a doctorate in demonology? Go out and hire a unicorn farrier while you’re at it. What a schmuck.”
“I could go get a priest, but we’re not very religious. Bill and I talked about that option.”
“Not very religious? You’re talking to a demon. Doesn’t that make you want to find religion? Doesn’t being in the presence of proof of an afterlife make you an instant convert? How thick are you?”
“Okay. I’m late for work and this conversation is pointless. I have to go. I’ll assume you’ll still be here when I get back, but could you at least not mess with my stuff. I work very hard to keep this place straight.”
“For starters- I can’t promise that. I’m a demon and it’s my job to screw with you. More importantly…” the demon smiled, exposing rows of really scary looking, razor-sharp teeth. “…what makes you think that I’ll just let you leave?”
Janice took a step backward, but the door slammed shut behind her. “Please,” was all she managed to say as the demon crawled out from inside the mirror. Still smiling, it raised its hands. As they made contact with Janice, they began to disappear inside her body. When the demon was in up to its elbows, Janice began to scream.
“Oh God, this is so painful. Get out of me,” Janice begged.
The demon laughed. “Never heard you say that to Bill. You mostly look bored when you’re being entered.”
“Man, you are such a cunt. Are all demons like this?”
“Well, I am good at what I do,” the demon replied, beaming. “I take pride in my work.”
Once the demon was fully absorbed into her, Janice could hear its thoughts. They were muffled, though. There was an excruciating pain in her soul that drowned out all other sensation.
This is going to be a little uncomfortable at first, but don’t worry, it gets much worse, the demon thought-said to her. Now, let’s go wait for Bill to get home.
