Jordan L. Hawk's Blog, page 30

Weekly WTF?

Just to prove that horrible and bizarre gift giving isn’t a modern tradition, I bring to you the bizarre armor of Henry VIII (yes, that Henry VIII). When he was still young and strapping, the Emperor Maximilian decided to give him a suit of armor which included this helmet:

Is it wearing glasses? Why does a helmet need glasses?!

Which…okay, if I saw that coming at me on the battlefield, I’d run screaming in the opposite direction, too. But this armor was purely ceremonial, so the only people Henry was horrifying were courtiers and future wives.

Even creepier than from the front.

If I were Henry, my first thought would’ve been “is this supposed to look like me?” followed by “that’s it, I’m invading Europe.”

In all seriousness, given the technology of the time this is an amazing example of the armorer’s art. Except instead of being majestic and inspiring, it looks like someone’s skeevy uncle with horns glued to his head. Perhaps fortunately, the rest of the armor was lost to time, and only the helmet remains. You can find out more about it .

What to Get the Person Who Has Everything (Except Sense)

As some of you may be aware, last October I had the pleasure of attending GayRom Lit in Albuquerque, NM. I chose to fly out, and you lovers of airline travel know what that means!

Sky Mall Catalog.

Repository of the useful, ridiculous, and bizarre, the Sky Mall catalog has long fascinated me. Who actually buys these things?! (Answer: enough people they can afford to stick a catalog in every seat on every flight.) And since the major gift-giving holidays are coming up, I thought I’d bring you a selection of the “best” Sky Mall products.

Life-Sized “Bigfoot Garden Yeti” Statue

Just look at the expression of joy on her face! No wait, that’s horror and shame.

For a mere $2,250.00, you can have a “life-sized” statue of something that, from the description, is both a bigfoot and a yeti! That’s two monsters for the price of one! Think of how happy your home-owners association will be when you stick this baby in your front yard. Unless you live in Alaska, Hawaii, or Puerto Rico, because it doesn’t ship to your location. I know you’re just writhing in envy, aren’t you?

Skyrest Travel Pillow

Doesn’t he look comfy? Or at least like he’s faking it?

According to the ad copy, “This person is able to sleep comfortably in any Seat!” Ignoring the random capitalization, I’m pretty sure this guy is not comfortable, at least in any human understanding of the word. Actually, since it’s inflatable, I think it’s more likely he just passed out from the exertion of blowing it up.

Eve Decanter

Sexy.

I was disappointed to see that the online copy is far tamer than the ad in the physical catalog. The writer for the print version gets rather carried away, describing this wine decanter as “sensuous,” “serpentine,” “seductive,” and “curvaceous” at various times. I was starting to wonder if I was reading  a piece of erotic flash fiction. He also assures us that the sound of the wine pouring mimics the “gurgle of the King Cobra.” Because cobras gurgle, I guess?

Link-o-Geek

I’ve mentioned my love of Edward Gorey before on the blog. Via io9 comes a list of Game of Thrones deaths done in the style of Gorey’s Gashlycrumb Tinies by artist Curtana.

Click here to view the whole thing, and beware there are spoilers if you haven’t seen the show or read the books yet.

Black Friday Blog Hop

I have a confession to make. I have never, not once in my life, gone to a store on Black Friday.

I remember the year my boss went to visit his wife’s family for Thanksgiving, and they all went to the Mall of America on Black Friday. My apologies to those of you who would love to do this, but to me this would be the lowest circle in Hell. You know, the one underneath Satan.

Being packed into an enclosed space with hordes of frantic shoppers, pushing and shoving to get to the best deals, is sort of what I envision the zombie apocalypse will be like. Except these zombies trample you to death for a DVD instead of eating your brains. Frankly, I don’t think that’s much of an improvement.

Bargaaaiiiins…

So today I’m staying in, eating leftover pie, and reading a good book. Nice, quiet, and stress-free. What plans do you have? Did you brave the crowds, or are you hiding from the rest of humanity? Let me know in the comments, and be entered to win a random drawing for a $5 Amazon Gift Certificate! Please note: you must include an email address so I’ll have some way to contact you.

Be sure to visit the other blogs participating in the hop! But that’s not all….

We have THREE grand prizes. You as a reader can go to EACH blog and comment with your email address and be entered to win. Yep, you can enter over 200 times!

Now what are those prizes?



1st Grand Prize: A Kindle Fire or Nook Tablet
2nd Grand Prize: A $75 Amazon or B&N Gift Card
3rd Grand Prize: A Swag Pack that contains paperbacks, ebooks, 50+ bookmarks, cover flats, magnets, pens, coffee cozies, and more!



 Click here for a list of the other participating blogs!

 

5 Thanksgiving Traditions for Which I’m Thankful

…or the “Obligatory Thanksgiving Blog Post.”

My mom never made us eat cranberry sauce from a can. That stuff is an abomination against all that is right and good in the world.

Satan’s handiwork.

No one in my family ever got shot on Thanksgiving. Seriously, think about it: half the family goes out hunting all morning while the rest stay in and cook, then everyone spends all afternoon drinking beer and watching football. Guns + booze + opposing teams + deeply buried family tensions = recipe for violent death. I’m frankly amazed Thanksgiving isn’t the biggest homicide day of the year.
My day job let me skip years of awkward meals with my in-laws because I worked Thursdays. By the time I quit, they’d given up on big family get-togethers, so it all worked out in the end.
The nut roast recipe I found online 15 years ago and have made every year since. Seriously this thing is SOOOO delicious, I started getting excited about making it back in October.
Going to see all the wonderful decorations the town and mall put up for the holidays! Oh, wait, they’ve been up since October. Never mind.

Got any Thanksgiving traditions you’d like to share?

Psst: Come back on Friday for the Black Friday Blog Hop! It’s a ONE DAY hop where we’re giving away prizes, talking about books we love, and most likely  eating left over turkey nut roast. And while we do that, we are EACH doing a giveaway. Yep. There will be over 200 giveaways on each blog hosted by that Author or Blogger.

But that’s not all….

We have THREE grand prizes. You as a reader can go to EACH blog and comment with your email address and be entered to win. Yep, you can enter over 200 times!

Now what are those prizes?

1st Grand Prize: A Kindle Fire or Nook Tablet

2nd Grand Prize: A $75 Amazon or B&N Gift Card

3rd Grand Prize: A Swag Pack that contains paperbacks, ebooks, 50+ bookmarks, cover flats, magnets, pens, coffee cozies, and more!

Link-o-Geek

This week we have a sometimes-funny, sometimes-moving series of YouTube Videos: Ask Lovecraft, in which “Lovecraft” answers questions received by viewers. This one addresses the question: how to entertain orphans:

Widdershins Excerpt

Is everyone ready for the holiday season to begin? I’m not, especially since the beta’s birthday is this week, too. Anyway, I thought I’d kick off the week with an excerpt from my upcoming release, Widdershins. Enjoy!

***

The walk back through the police station was a blur. As soon as my shoes hit the slushy sidewalk outside, I quickened my pace. Cold air stung my face, but failed to soothe the heat burning there.

“Dr. Whyborne! Wait!”

I could run, but would just end up slipping on a bit of ice and sprawling at Flaherty’s feet. “I do not appreciate being used, sir,” I snapped, aiming the words back over my shoulder.

I slowed to cross a street, and he used the opportunity to catch up to me. “Dr. Whyborne—”

“You’ll have your blasted translation,” I said firmly, not looking at him as I strode across to the other corner. Despite his shorter legs, he managed to keep up with me. “I’ll finish it as soon as humanly possible, at which point, I trust, you will never again darken my doorstep.”

His hand landed on my shoulder once again. The warmth and weight of it sent a little shock through me. I shrugged it off.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Please, slow up.”

“You knew, didn’t you?” I asked. Bitterness rose like stinging bile in my throat, and for once I didn’t bother to disguise it. Of course he didn’t want my company at the station because he valued my opinion; he wanted it because he hoped my father’s name would intimidate Tilton into telling the truth.

I was a fool. An utter, thoroughgoing fool.

“Of course I know who your father is,” he said, not bothering to deny it. “And, yes, I will admit, I’d hoped your name would hold sway with Tilton.”

“If you had warned me—”

“Would you have gone?”

“You’ll never know now, will you?”

He let out a sigh. “No. Forgive me, if you can. It’s just…you are as much a cipher to me as that book.”

His words surprised me into glancing at him. His gaze was focused straight ahead, the rusty brown strands in his irises darkening the green now, his mouth pursed in a frown.

“I hardly see how I could be a cipher to anyone,” I said stiffly. “After all, you clearly have the facts at your disposal.”

“Percival Endicott Whyborne, youngest child of railroad tycoon Niles Whyborne. You neither attended your father’s alma mater nor went into the family business, a situation which might be explained by the fact your older brother did both. Except your father has never donated to the museum where you are employed, and you live in a modest apartment, apparently on nothing more than the salary the museum pays you.”

“As I said.”

“Not at all. I know the what but not the why.”

Even worse. “I am but another mystery to you. A challenge, as you said earlier.” A specimen, to be viewed and dissected.

His hand curled around my elbow, slowing me as we turned onto Old Mill Street. “I wish you would give me the opportunity to explain.”

“I see no need for—”

Flaherty suddenly yanked me into a fetid alleyway. Before I could think to protest, he grabbed both my arms and shoved me backward, into a sort of alcove formed by the chimneys of adjoining buildings. Rough brick scraped my back, and my shoes sank into something best not examined too closely.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I gasped. “I do not appreciate—”

He laid a finger over my lips, and the sheer audacity of the gesture silenced me. His skin was chilled against my mouth; in his haste, he hadn’t put his gloves back on. Even though our only contact was through his finger, warmth flooded my entire body.

“Shh,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over my cheek. “We’re being followed.”

“F-followed?” I whispered, acutely aware of the movement of my lips against his finger.

“Followed.” His scent enveloped me: warm skin, damp wool, and sandalwood. “Hold still—I wish to see who has such an interest in our doings.”

I nodded dumbly, my thoughts ricocheting inside my skull. Satisfied, he dropped his hand and turned his back to me, peering out in the direction of the street. The curve of one buttock pressed lightly against my thigh, palpable even through the cloth of our trousers.

My heart sped, and blood surged downward, stiffening my member. I shut my eyes and ground my fingertips against the rough brick wall behind me, frantic for distraction. Dear heavens, what was wrong with me? I should not—I could not—react like this, not to anyone, and certainly not to a man who made his living prying into the secrets of others.

His posture shifted into a ready stance, and I opened my eyes. Even though Flaherty’s overlong hair was nearly in my face, I was quite a bit taller, and could see past him to the entrance of the alley.

A figure had paused there, although whether man or woman, it was impossible to tell. A black cloak enveloped its stooped frame, and a long scarf and wide-brimmed hat concealed its features. Its head lifted slightly, and I had the horrible impression it was sniffing for us, like some sort of enormous bloodhound. The same repulsive scent I’d noticed outside my window last night teased my senses.

Flaherty froze, without even the slight stirring of breath to give us away. I did my best to mimic him, even though it seemed my heart was about to smash through my ribs. An instinctive fear and revulsion for the mysterious figure gripped me, something born from the primitive recesses of my brain, which yet remembered the terror of prey for its predator.

Widdershins will be released December 4!

Weekly WTF?

Advertising has always carried with it a special air of insanity. It’s as if copy writers have never met an actual human being, and try to imagine our concerns based solely on the product they’ve been hired to push. These vintage cigarette ads via Retronaut are all bizarre and puzzling, but my favorite is this one from 1938:

Because who cares if your baby gets phosphorus poisoning–if you smoke Virginia Slims, you’ll be such a slave to nicotine your only concern will be how you’re going to get your next fix! Skip the Marlboros; they don’t come near the level of heroin-like addiction.

Office Supplies Will Save Me

Like a lot of people who are self-employed and work from home, I struggle with time management. If I ran my own, say, comic book store that would be less of a problem: I’d have set hours I had to be there, with time for the commute, certain days new stock came in, etc. I’d also go out of business in two months, because I’d only stock indie comics no one ever heard of and wonder aloud why my customers didn’t just buy straight from the creators on the internet. So it’s just as well I don’t own a comic shop.

When one is a self-employed creative, however, there’s very little in the way of outside structure. I set my own deadlines, and if I decide to spend all day knitting blankets out of cat hair, or eating pie, or sleeping on the couch, no one is here to tell me otherwise. Which is why I have put my faith in office supplies as the key to my success.

Binder clips, you are my only hope!

I am deeply convinced that if I can only find the right combination of office supplies, I will suddenly turn into Super Author, writing 10,000 words a day seven days a week, sailing smoothly along with no sign of burn out in sight because it isn’t on the schedule. That desk calendar didn’t do it, but this one might! Maybe I just need an entire rainbow of post-it notes! A wall calendar to map out my entire year ahead of time! A white board to list deadlines! Folders to put project notes in!

So far, none of them have yet turned me into a super-productive author who also has a spotless house, well-behaved cats, and cooks every meal from scratch. But never fear: I’m going to an office supply place this afternoon to pick out a new desk calendar.

This is the one that will do it. I just know it.

Link-o-Geek

If acclaimed artist of the weird Edward Gorey had illustrated the works of HP Lovecraft, he might have come up with something like this:

Do you think it wants to be friends?

The above is created by artist John Kenn Mortensen, who has perfectly captured Gorey’s gift of odd and unsettling illustrations. You can see more of his Lovecraftian illustrations at Lovecraft eZine, or on his website.